Today we celebrate Memorial Day.  The last Monday in May marks our taking time to remember those Americans killed in our nation's wars. As most national holidays it has morphed into its own unique weekend where we carry out many family and community traditions like watching the Indianapolis 500 (held on Memorial Day weekend for nearly 100 years now), getting out the family barbecue grill and relaxing for the long weekend away from work and school.  Many still attend the typically American parades featuring the usual mix of marching bands, Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops, Veterans' organizations, public officials, and of course veterans themselves marching in time's honor of their fallen comrades.

In this "Emptying Nest" in the Patchwork Nation here in Clermont, Florida I went down to the new pavilion at Waterfront Park on Lake Minneola where a couple hundred gathered to hear talks from retired military, The American Legion and VFW, the ladies from the DAR (Daughters of the Amercian Revolution), and the placing of a wreath by the mom of a young soldier killed recently in Iraq, memorializing the fallen just as it's supposed to be - classic Americana.

One thing I noticed was how many young kids there were in attendance.  Lake County has the oldest age demographic in the Central Florida region so it was nice to see them there and that they were respectful of the goings on around them. 

As we listened to the speakers I recalled how every Memorial Day up north in Western NY I would take my Aunt Pauline to the cemetery where we would place geraniums not only on family veterans' graves, but on all the family member markers and how she would talk about their lives, whether they died young or old, or decades ago or more recently.  It was now beyond a remembrance of soldiers past and in an odd way became an annual celebration of life for us.  My Aunt is one of just a few of my parents' generation still alive up there, at an amazing 104 years old.  It is good to know she still inhabits this world as I think of today's activities.  I look across the rows of chairs under the pavilion and see Joe Janusiak, a World War  II veteran I've come to know well, who fought in the Solomon Islands and at hell on earth places like Quadalcanal.  At 87 he's still pretty spry and of course still here.  He's lost in reverie as I watch him. 

The event ends with the Cub Scouts folding the colors and a raucous John Philip Sousa tune from the East Ridge Middle School Band and as I walk away I have the strange feeling of the dead being  among the living for a moment.  It's a nice fit as I look out over the waters of Lake Minneola at the kids swimming at Jaycee Beach, smell hamburgers cooking, and there is the sound in my ears of the song God Bless America, and it's right for the moment - no, perfect for the moment - so I ride home quietly reveling in it all....