Peony Memories

Memorial Day was not yet a Monday holiday when I was in grade school so it was observed on May 30th. Accordingly, the last day of school was always the last weekday before May 30th. It was always a half-day and ended with a brown bag picnic lunch in a nearby city park.

I remember this vividly because the first day we could sleep in because school was over, was ALWAYS ruined when Dad woke us up to get ready to head to the cemetery to decorate graves. Since peonies were plentiful in our backyard garden, they were always the flower of choice for gravesite decorations. Accordingly, Dad got us kids up early. My brother and I helped him scoop sand into the coffee cans Mom had been saving. As each can was filled, my younger brother would take the cans to Mom, who would wrap them in aluminum foil to make them into pretty containers. Meanwhile, my sisters were responsible for cutting fully bloomed peonies and making sure they shook all the ants out of their cuttings before they were placed in the car. 

Once these tasks were completed, Dad had the unenviable task of herding us kids into the car to make the trek to the cemetery. Just like herding cats, this was not an easy task and always seemed to take longer than anyone expected. After getting to the cemetery, my sisters would help Mom arrange the cut peonies in the cans of sand which my younger brother was helping Dad unload from the car, while I grabbed the watering can and located the nearest water spigot to fetch water for the containers. We repeated this ritual until each of our relatives’ graves were adorned with flowers.

We’d then head back home, where we would be joined by out-of-town relatives after they completed their decorating rounds at the cemetery. Dad and the adult males would be outside getting the grill fired up in preparation for grilling large quantities of hamburgers and hot dogs. Mom and the adult women were inside preparing potato salad, baked beans, deviled eggs, and other side dishes, and all of us kids were running around in the yard playing various games and generally wreaking havoc. 

Each year, we enjoyed this sort of extended family camaraderie as our traditional kickoff to summer. While all of this routine may have seemed like a boring chore to a kid, with the passage of time and the wisdom that comes with age, these routines have now become some of my most treasured memories. And to ensure they would continue long into the future, years ago when I purchased my house, Mom and Dad dug up several peonies from their backyard and transplanted them to my new house. Now, every May, these memories come flooding back and remind me of Memorial Days long ago.