The Ming Report

DECORATION DAY

May 26, 2003 - It is almost Memorial Day. For some of us old fogies that occasion doesn't come until May 30th. This Monday we celebrate one of the modern days off that substitute for what we used to celebrate on holidays that had been set aside for a purpose. Now we have three-day weekends sprinkled about the calendar to serve the need of the retail trade and travel industry to encourage unrestrained spending lest the balloon deflate.

On May 29th in the evening we would get ready for Decoration Day, which was what we called it then. General John Logan, the first National Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, conceived of the idea of setting aside a spring day to decorate the graves of the men who had fallen in the War of the Rebellion. He promulgated General Order 11, calling on the GAR to bring flowers to the National Cemeteries on May 30th, 1868. By the turn of the century most of the Northern States had made Decoration Day an official holiday to be observed on May 30th.

The evening before, just as the sun was going down, we would descend on the garden to cut the armloads of peonies and iris that would be carried in the procession of family cars headed to the family plots. We cut them in the evening, wrapped the stems in newspaper and wetted them down so that they would be fresh the following morning. Piled on the front porch they awaited loading into the car trunk as dawn broke. There were no plastic flowers then.

We would rendezvous at my grandparents' home in White Heath. Grandmother would have breakfast waiting and when Great-grandfather arrived in his Ford Coupe we were all assembled. He would lead the procession and always insisted that his first great-grandchild would ride with him. Bill and Annamary would ride with Granddad and Grandmother. Bill loved that because he would get to ride on the shelf above the seat of Payne's old 38 Chevy two-seater while his sister was wedged between her grandparents. The tin cans, saved for weeks to serve as vases filled his trunk along with the picnic basket. The younger kids, Jane and Catherine, then a baby, were all that were left to ride in Dad's big Lincoln.

First stop was Camp Creek, on the hill above the farm. Great-grandfather would supervise while his son dug neat round holes to fit the coffee cans. Mother and Grandmother would arrange the bouquets and it was my job to fetch the water from the nearest stream or, when we got to town, from the cemetery spigot.

The last stop was always Great-grandfather McCain's spot in the Soldier's Circle at Monticello. He had served with the 3rd Missouri Cavalry (US) because the local regiment, the 107th Illinois, was infantry and he and his brothers did not want to walk. Adam fell at Little Rock and Charles died of a fever. George came home a broken man addicted to drink still the GAR Star flew a National Flag and we decorated his grave with flowers.

We never stopped at Uncle John E. Andrew's plot. In 1939 he had been elected National Commander of the GAR. Six weeks later he was dead. My Great-grandfather hated him even though he was his favorite sister's husband. He had, you see, committed the one sin that J.F. could not forgive. He was a Republican!

We would finish in time for the memorial service at the city park and then back to the farm. There were no Memorial Day Sales, no trips away from home. It was a family day. It was day to remember and to celebrate remembrance.