Little Memorials

On Monday (Memorial Day in the U.S.), I visited the rural cemetery where a number of my extended family members are buried, along with many people I knew while I was growing up. I cherish some of those childhood memories and since Monday, I've been remembering incidents from my acquaintance with them, little memorials in my own heart.

I remember the pink wintergreen candies my grandfather carried in his pocket to give to all the Sunday School children. Who cared back then that he had just shaken hands with thirty people and then dug around in his pocket to dole out the powdery (unwrapped) sweets? Perhaps we were all the hardier for having been exposed to so many germs!

I remember that the same grandpa lived just across the road from my childhood home and kept a pitcher of cold mint tea in the refrigerator. (A real refrigerator, as I recall, not an "icebox," which our family had.) The tea was brewed from peppermint growing beside the house—imagine having that on a sweltering day! (No air conditioning back then) If we weren't having mint tea, we might drink "Big Four," his name for cold cocoa--no one seems to know why.

I remember the home of the other grandparents who lived in a big two-story house. With the doors open downstairs and the hallway door also open, the big horned owl (stuffed, of course) that reigned over the stairway, moved his tufted "ears" in the breeze. I was petrified! On the other hand, Grandma made soft sugar cookies with black walnut icing—to die for!

I remember the aunt who came to the housewarming party that my dolls and I hosted in the orchard playhouse. She brought real refreshments and pretended with me that it was a high social occasion!

I remember the aunt who took me shopping in the city—for a winter coat, I think—and we ate lunch in the department store tea room. An honest-to-goodness tea room! I had a roast beef sandwich.

I remember the much-loved aunt and uncle who every summer invited this country kid to spend a week in the city with my cousin. We played in a yard full of blue morning glories, and rode the bus downtown—a brand-new experience for me. D.W., did we sleep in a tent sometimes?

I remember our friends who had a most intriguing kitchen. A lantern hung from a hook in the ceiling, and was pumped periodically to make the mantle glow. A pump handle, worked vigorously, brought water from the cistern to the kitchen sink. I thought this was really special.

I remember my parents' friends who came to our house sometimes after Sunday evening church service to have coffee and "dunk" doughnuts. We got to stay up late.

I remember the sad news that the baby boy of one of the church families had died during the night. It was puzzling to me that children could die.

Mama, Daddy, I'm grateful for the loving surroundings that nurtured me. These little memorials will outlast the flowers I saw in the cemetery.

MaryMartha