A CHRISTMAS I NEVER FORGOT

When I was in the fourth grade at Ammon Elementary, we would draw names in our classes and exchange presents the day school let out for the Christmas holidays. I can’t remember there being a monetary limit on what we were to spend, but I’m sure there was.

            In our class was  a boy whose family struggled financially. This boy was shunned by most of the class members including me. He wore bibbed overalls that were always baggy, probably hand-me-downs from an older brother, but was always clean and patched. His shirts were often patched and too big for him also. When the boys played marbles at recess time and he would be kneeling down with his marbles, we could see his socks poking through the holes in the soles of his shoes. As winter came we noticed the holes would be covered with cardboard put inside of the shoes. Most of us experienced that cardboard in the shoe experience back then, but we still would make fun of this boy. Especially when we could see his socks. And often there were holes in his socks too.

When it came time to draw names, no one wanted this boy to draw our name as we knew he couldn’t afford to buy anything. The big items those years were the Lifesaver books and Blue Waltz perfume. Any girl would be excited to get either one of those items. 

            As we would draw the name, our teacher would write down our name plus the name we drew. She kept a secret as to the names drawn, and told us to do the same. That was hard and of course in our little groups at recess we often shared the name we had drawn and the worry that he would draw our name.

            We were told not to bring the gifts to school until the day before we would open them, but as usual many brought their gifts early. Mom took my siblings and me to town, usually to Kress’s to shop for our school gift. We were encouraged to use our own money if we had any. No one had allowances back then, but Dad would sometimes pay us a little when we helped around the farm.

            Each day before the Christmas vacation, everyone came with their gift. We were not supposed to look at the wrapped gifts under the tree, but whenever the teacher was out of the room there would be a group going through the presents trying to find out who had their name. So two days before Christmas vacation, there, under the tree, was a box wrapped neatly with my name on it on the “To” category and our shunned boy’s name under the “From” category.

            Everyone was so relieved to finally find that gift, everyone but me that is. I tried not to show my disappointment because I loved receiving gifts like everyone else, but I knew this was not the year I’d receive Lifesavers or perfume.

            The time came for us to open our gifts. We didn’t get to do that until after our lunch. Then our teacher had the nerve to have us sing a few songs and she read a Christmas story before the gift giving began. Those activities seemed to take forever. Finally she had us go one person at a time, row by row. The first person in the row would get the gift he/she was giving and take it to the person to whom it was for. Then he/she unwrapped the gift and everyone could see what it was. The teacher made sure the recipient thanked the giver. Next person in the row did the same until everyone had received and opened a gift.

            My present was handed to me about half way through the gift-giving period. The shunned boy didn’t take his eyes off the floor as he gave me the gift but every eye in the room was on me as I opened it. Inside the box was a pen and a hand embroidered handkerchief.

            I knew better than to express disappointment, and I sensed the shunned boy expected me to laugh. My mother’s words just the night before as I expressed concern about the gift – “Always be a gracious receiver,” rang loud in my head. I looked at the boy and softly said, “Thank you. The handkerchief is beautiful and I can always use a pen.”

            He actually looked up at me and smiled, then walked back to his desk looking forward and not at the floor.

That is the only gift I remember receiving in my eight years in elementary school, but I have remembered the circumstances surrounding this experience every year at Christmas time. That day long ago I learned how important it was to accept and be appreciative of even the smallest of gifts. His smile taught me that!

NON-TRADITIONAL GIFTS FOR FARMERS AND RANCHERS

Sunset at the valley farm.

Now that Thanksgiving is over with and I’m still feeling stuffed and full, I am going to make my Christmas list. Farmers and ranchers are not the easiest people to shop for. Coveralls, boots, and gloves are not especially exciting gifts to give or receive. So I think I’ll look for some unusual and non-traditional type of things to give my men.

·                    How about a hat with a wide brim, one that will keep his face from being sunburned but won’t keep the sunshine out of his life. It should give him protection from the storms of life as they come, but, again as with the sunshine, not take those storms away as they are the rungs on the ladder to success.

·                 Maybe a suit of armor should go with the wide brimmed hat, so the entire body receives protection. Of course that would be dangerous when they are out irrigating or if an angry cow decides to chase them, so I guess I’ll cross that one off my list.

·                        A pair of rose-colored glasses with a special prescription for better foresight and an option to disregard hindsight. These glasses could be treated with a temperance coating that makes it possible to see the good in all people.

·                   A hearing aid specifically geared to enable him to hear good comments about agriculture and appreciation from the people who eat the food we produce. These could also have a special attachment that recognizes the different drum-beats individuals march to. Another good addition to these hearing aids would be a special setting to be able to hear his wife when she’s talking to him.

·                    How about a watch that will add or subtract an hour, depending on the need: add an hour when there just isn’t time to do everything; subtract an hour or speed up the mechanism on the watch when time is going too slow. But it does need to correlate with the watch that his wife has or there could be trouble with this gift!

·                      Specially treated gloves that convert sweat, grease, manure, and dirt into moisturizing cream, thus softening the hands as a reminder to treat those he meets with softness, gentleness, and kindness. These gloves need to be warm in the winter but have a cooling affect during the summer.

·                         Pants and coveralls with built-in knee pads that automatically kneel down at least once a day so the wearer can give thanks for the opportunity to work the land and with his animals. These knee pads will also help when he is kneeling by a sick cow or calf.

·                      A pair of boots with an occasional pebble or nail inside of them, so the owner will remember that not everyone goes the same speed as he does. Also, the boots need a good sole and heel to make firm footprints and an accurate path for those who will follow him.

·                   Perhaps a flashlight with a special heater to keep the hands warm in the cold of winter. The beam of this light would be formulated to give guidance on the darkest nights and in the darkest moments of the owner’s life. And it might even be able to guide and help those close to the owner using the light.

·                  Rainbows. He needs these periodically, not for the pot of gold at the end of it but for the moisture in front thus making it possible for him to create his own pot of gold. A rainbow also adds beauty to his life. And it usually means there has been some needed moisture to help in his life.

·                  A song in his heart so when things look bleak and gloomy, he has a reserve to draw on.

·              Beautiful sunrises to give him a positive start to the day and help him accomplish what needs to be done.

·                   Beautiful sunsets to encourage him to welcome in the night and help him to rest, free from worry.

I          I realize the last few are things that can’t be purchased. They are things that are free for all of us to enjoy. Now, if I could just find a place to buy some of the other items I’d have my Christmas shopping done. 

PREPARING THE RANCH FOR WINTER

Winter scene at our valley home

            This year we’ve had rain storms at unusual times, causing concerns about whether we would have enough feed for the cattle to see them through the winter. So in late September and early October my men were at the ranch cutting grass for hay and getting it baled. I can’t remember a time when we were cutting, raking, baling and hauling hay this late in the season. But this enabled us to have more feed for the cows, and that’s what we needed. Boyd always likes to have extra in case we have a heavy snow fall during the winter or early spring and are unable to get the cows to summer pasture as soon as we like to.

            The calves have been moved down from the ranch and weaned and the cows will be brought down between Thanksgiving and Christmas, depending on the weather. The sheds here in the valley have been scraped clean and lime spread on them, preparing for calving that starts mid-December at our place. New canvas has been put up and when it gets closer to the time we use them, straw will be spread out in the sheds.

Preparing and storing feed and getting sheds ready for winter use for the animals is not the only chores we need to do to get the ranch ready for winter. There is equipment to winterize and put up. The combine with its header is already in the shed at the ranch. After we are through cutting wheat, Doug, our oldest son, often leaves a list in the combine of things that need to be fixed the next spring. However, Doug had already left for Antarctica to work by the time we cut the wheat this year, so I don’t know if anyone else recorded things to do. That always helps come summer when no one can remember what needs to be done to get the combine running good.

We had the swather and baler in the shed at the ranch also, but the guys brought them back to the valley so we could get another cutting of hay off one of our fields. Boyd said we may store them down here this year instead of moving them back up – guess it will depend on when we are through with them and the condition of the roads. Bad roads are hard on equipment as we move it from the ranch to the valley farm and then back.

The fields have been disked and ready to work for spring planting. The plow shears have been painted black to keep them from rusting through the winter.

The waterers are checked for any problems even though it seems that cold weather always brings problems with the waterers whether they are checked or not. The panels have been put into the empty canals to keep the cows from going into the neighbors fields via of the empty water ways. The fences and gates have been checked and fixed if they need it. It won’t matter to some of the cows if the fences are tight and seem to be secure. But for the majority of our bovine friends, the fences are fixed to hold them in.

We’ve moved the camp trailer down, parked it by the garden for the winter. All of the water has been drained out of it and it has been winterized.

There are also things around the house and yard that needs pre-winter care. The garden plot has been cleared, sprayed, and tilled ready for spring. The tillers and lawn mower have been stored in the bully barn and the snow blower has been moved out into the garage. The flower beds have been weeded, spring bulbs planted, and roses covered. The dogs dug down in a spot where my washing machine drains, and so that hole was filled to prevent the drain from freezing. I’ve got all of the hoses hanging up behind the bully barn, except those needed to fill one of the water troughs that isn’t automatic.  The heater has been moved to the porch ready to turn on as the nights get colder. That keeps boots and coveralls warm as the guys spend so much time out in the cold during the winter.

There's much to be done in preparation for Mother Nature's most challenging season, but we're pretty well ready to face it and deal with whatever she throws at us. Now maybe we can all relax and enjoy the long nights and short days.

           

             

TRICK OR TREAT

TRICK-OR-TREAT

Grandson, Chance Ellis, ready to go trick or treating

            “Trick or treat” is a familiar chant we hear on Halloween. Children in many countries do this as they travel from house to house asking for treats. The “trick” is usually an idle threat to perform mischief on the homeowners or their property if no treat is given them.

            According to the internet, almost all pre-1940 uses of the term “trick or treat” are from the western United States and Canada. Trick-or-treating spread from the western United States eastward and this has been a Halloween tradition since then, and maybe even earlier.

            When I was young we lived in Ammon, which was a small community at that time, and we knew nearly everyone who lived there. I don’t remember my parents voicing concern about us going out after dark on Halloween to trick-or-treat. I do remember the time a friend and I were going door to door and some teenage boys in a car stopped and scared us by pretending they were going to kidnap us. We screamed loud and ran hard as we heard them laughing at their joke. That didn’t stop us from our canvassing the neighborhood for candy.

            Also when Boyd and I were young, there was vandalism associated with trick-or-treating. One of the favorite was tipping over outhouses or moving them off the hole to another area. Most homes had an outhouse even if they had modern indoor plumbing. The “tricks” were innocent and didn’t harm anyone, just inconvenienced them. Often the guilty parties were apprehended and had to restore the outhouses to their original spot.

            Things have changed a lot from the time we were young. Back then any kind of candy or homemade sweet was accepted as the “treat.” But when my children were young, someone put razors in some Halloween treats, and the public became more concerned about the safety of what was being handed out. We used to nibble all evening as we were going door to door. Now, the children take their treats home and their parents check them, many times discarding homemade cookies and candy, and keeping only the wrapped candy purchased at a store. Even those purchased treats are checked to make sure the wrappings haven’t been tampered with.

            Halloween was a fun time then and still can be now. We worked hard to make our own costumes when I was young. Rarely did we buy a costume for our kids and I don’t think costumes were available to purchase during my childhood. With our children, as soon as they came home from school on Halloween, I tried to have their evening meal ready. I would fix an easy one, usually hot dogs with the trimmings, as they would be excited and I wanted to have supper dishes finished before our doorbell started to ring. But that goal was never accomplished. Invariably, small groups of ghosts and goblins would start ringing the bell at 4 in the afternoon. At that early time it would usually be smaller children with a mom or older sibling standing in the background, helping get them from door to door. Back then, trick-or-treating was limited to neighbors and we knew all of the spooks coming to our door. The idea of putting the kids in the car and going into an unknown housing area never crossed our minds. Years later people started driving their children into areas farther away from their homes, including nursing homes and even malls.

            Not everyone welcomes trick-or-treaters. When our children were young we were encouraged to turn on our porch lights if we accepted the costumed young ones at our door. Our children were taught not to approach a home with its lights out.  After we moved to our farm we had our grandchildren and a few neighborhood children come trick-or-treating, but not anymore. The neighbor children and the grandchildren have all grown up past that stage. Plus living out in the country with houses far apart really discourages trick-or-treaters, and especially their parents who have to drive them.

            Trick-or-treating has changed a lot and is not the safe, fun activity for children that it used to be. Thus the introduction of the “trunk-or-treat” by some churches and schools. With this, trick-or-treating is done with parked cars in a local parking lot, often at a school or church. The trunk of one’s car is opened, displaying candy, and sometimes games and decorations. The children then go from car to car with their bag to accumulate goodies. Parents see this as safer for their children and it is easier than walking the neighborhood with their kids. Some schools and churches are making this into more of a carnival type atmosphere by adding food, music and games, and even giving prizes for the car that is decorated the most like Halloween.

            Now Boyd and I go to the “trunk-or-treat” at the church parking lot, visit with other adults, admire the children’s costumes, and partake of hot cider and doughnuts.  That helps us feel the excitement of the season.

           

RAINY DAY VACATIONS

Uncle Lawrence Ricks, Dad (Derrald Ricks), Roger Ricks, Kay Gillespie, Wayne Ricks

When I was growing up we never took a vacation unless it was raining - there was always too much to do on the farm, and during the winter we were in school. But if it rained we all got excited. Dad would come in the house and tell Mom that he was going to butcher a couple of chickens and to get things ready to go. Mom would have one of us get a big gallon tin can half full of wheat. Then we would carefully pack eggs in the wheat. The wheat kept the eggs from bouncing around and breaking while we were traveling. Dad and the boys would kill the chickens and we would put wrap them in wax paper and then in a dishtowel with ice cubes around them. We would go out into the field and dig potatoes, then to the garden and pick any fresh vegetables that were ready to harvest. Mom would get everything packed up. We didn’t have coolers like today, just a tin box to put things in.

            We girls would grab our latest paper doll collections and pack that with our clothes. The boys would dig worms as they knew they would be going fishing with Dad. When we were all ready, we’d pile into the car and be off to Mack’s Inn in Island Park: Mom, Dad and six kids packed into the car. We didn’t have seat belts then so four of us piled into the back seat and the two youngest in the front with Mom and Dad

            Dad would try to get us a cabin on the North Fork of the Snake River at Mack’s Inn, if possible. We loved a cabin by the river because we could go out the front door of the cabin and right into the river to play, even if the water was cold. We weren’t always able to get a river-front cabin, but we could always get a cabin somewhere close. Then, while the men were assembling their fishing gear and preparing to get out fishing, the women and younger children would put the food away and get suitcases and sleeping bags arranged.

            Uncle Lawrence, Dad’s brother, and his family often went with us and would try to get a cabin next to ours. They only had one girl along with their four boys, so while the guys were fishing, my cousin, Beth, would join  my sisters and me as we would get out our paper dolls and start to play. Oh, did we ever come up with scenarios for our paper doll families! We could play for hours! When we got tired of the paper dolls, we would go for walks around the cabins and then spend some time in the big lodge that was there. We could usually get some change from our dad’s so we could buy ourselves ice cream or a candy bar at the lodge.

            We spent a lot of time walking around, visiting, playing in the water along the shore of the river, exploring the forest close by, and even going up where the riding horses were available to rent.

            The rain didn’t stop the guys from fishing, and they would bring in their catch for Mom and Aunt Zola to fix for any meal. If the fishing was good, we would have fish for breakfast, dinner, and supper. My brothers always said that the best time to fish was when it rained, but I wonder now if that was because it was the only time they fished when they were younger.

            As we got older we were able to rent some of the paddle boats and go out and play in the river on them. Dad and Uncle Lawrence purchased a big air-inflated boat that they would take up to Big Springs to put in the river. We would all get in it and then float on down to Mack’s. Sometimes the guys would put the anchor out, get out into the river with their big rubber waders, and fish. I remember the time a moose was out in the middle of the river and was watching us as we floated by. He seemed as curious about us as we were about him.

            Oh what fun we had! But the rain would quit and we needed to go home. Although we hated to leave, we knew we would come again. It made us all look forward to another rainy days! And rainy days are still special to me.

DIRT R0ADS AND MEMORIES

DIRT ROADS AND MEMORIES

A dirt road east of the ranch



  

            We went out to lunch with friends the other day and one of the women and I started to talk about when we were young. We were both raised in Ammon, which was considered the “sticks” back then. To our more sophisticated urban Idaho Falls friends, those of us living in Ammon were the “hicks from the sticks.”

            As we were reminiscing we got on the subject of the weekly trips to Idaho Falls to buy groceries. Those trips, in our family, were on Saturday afternoon with Mother. We lived on Sunnyside which was a two-lane dirt road. To get into Idaho Falls we would go over to 17^th street, which also was a two-lane dirt road with the pavement starting west of St. Clair.

            Dirt roads can prove challenging as we know because of driving them all summer to the ranch. If it rains and there isn’t much gravel on the roads, they become slick with the mud and puddles. During the hot dry summer days a dirt road gets really dusty except where a farmer has been irrigating and the water runs into the road.

            Back when I was young there were no sprinkler pipes for irrigation, just flooding the fields. There were barrow pits along the sides of the road where most of the irrigation run off would go, but sometimes those would fill and the road would get the extra.

            Well, back to our weekly shopping trip to Idaho Falls. We always shopped at Safeway’s, located just east of the railroad track and south of the then library, now museum. I remember thinking how big that grocery store was – but it was nothing compared to our Wal-Mart’s and Sam’s that we have today. I would help Mother by pushing the grocery cart for her. We didn’t get the fresh vegetables in the winter like we do now, and I remember always looking forward to having a green salad by Easter time.

 If we needed anything downtown – didn’t have malls back then – we would leave the car in the parking lot at Safeway’s,  walk across the railroad track and into downtown Idaho Falls. There were lots of stores in downtown then, and I loved to go wandering through Woolworths and Newberry’s. Penny’s and C.C. Andersons were also stores we frequented. Mother would stop and visit with friends she would see who were also doing their shopping.

            On our way home after our big shopping day, Mother would stop at Don Wilson Drug on Boulevard and we could each have a fountain drink. I always chose iron port and cherry. How I loved that drink and have never found anything that matches it since. I think it cost a nickel. Then we could buy a comic book if we had any of our own money. If I had been helping Dad in the field by weeding potatoes or beets during the week, I could usually come up with the nickel or dime it took to buy a comic book. If each of us kids purchased one, we would be able to share them and have some good reading during the next week.

            My friend told how they too would shop at Safeway’s and then would go downtown to pick up their grandmother. While downtown they would stop at Woolworths and have an apple dumpling. Woolworths had a lunch counter in the store, but I can’t remember ever eating anything there.

            After the Saturday shopping was done, back home we would go on the dirt roads. We had to be home to fix supper for Dad and my brothers as they would have been working in the fields or with the animals while we were gone.

Yes, living out in the “sticks” meant dirt roads back when I was a child. We rode our bikes on those dirt roads in the summer time. Dad pulled us on a sled behind the car on those snow-covered dirt roads in the winter time. We slipped and slid on those same roads during the spring when the snow melted and made lots of puddles and mud.

But dirt roads made some good memories. What fun it is to visit with friends and in doing so revisit memories of days gone by.

THE GAMBLERS

Hauling hay from the ranch.

     I married a gambler and have raised three others. they are addicted and so am I. Gambling gets in your blood and I'm sure that rehab nor counseling would be able to cure our family from this addiction. part of the problem is inherited maybe even genetic. My father and grandfathers were gamblers as were Boyd's father and grandfather.

     I'm not talking about going to Fort Hall or Jackpot or even Las Vegas gambling, but rather going out and working in the field all day from early spring to late fall. The gamble starts when the ground is ready to be broken up and prepared for the seed. Then the planting, the constant care of the plants as they grow: watering; fertilizing; spraying for weeds and insects; etc.

     Yes, there is money involved in this gamble, maybe more than what we would put on the tables in casinos. Time is also a big factor in this gamble also as we work, we watch, we pray, we hope, and we never give up hope. And, just like the card-playing gambling, we won't know if we win or lose until the game is over or in agriculture terminology - harvest time.

     This year the gable has been a bad one. We didn't get the winter snow we needed to give us the moisture necessary for our crops, especially at the ranch where we don't irrigate but are dependent upon ground moisture. In fact, we haven't received sufficient moisture the past few years.

     This spring the rains came, but the moisture was not enough. Then the hot weather that dries things out so fast and no more rain. August brought rains like we haven't seen in years for that month. These rains  can be lifesavers, but this year they brought tragedy to many farms up and down the Snake River farming areas: hay that had been cut lay in the fields getting wet and turning brown; barley and wheat, ready to harvest, began to sprout; late blight visited potato fields.

     Many farmers had contracted their hay to go to dairies. Dairies require high-quality hay to feed their cows. Hay that has been cut, rained on, raked, and maybe rained on again before being baled is not considered top quality. Therefore, the dairies have rejected a lot of the hay they had contracted for. Yes, this hay can still be used for beef cattle, but it still isn't top-grade and thus will have to be sold at a lower price.

     A lot of the barley grown in eastern Idaho is malt barley, contracted to Anheuser-Busch Company, and they require good quality barley. Barley that has sprouted as extensively as it has this year is not good quality. And I understand that as the barley kernel swells when it is sprouting, it loses nutrients. So there is a possibility this sprouted malt barley may not even make good feed barley.

     When we gamble in agriculture we realize there is always the possibility of losing. We always hope that if we lose, we won't lose everything. With many local farmers, that large of a loss may be the case this year. 

     When the farmers sell their crops, the money they get is not 100% profit. There are bills to pay: seed; chemicals; fuel; fertilizer; electricity;pipe movers and other laborers. Often a farmer takes out an operating loan from the bank to see him through the season, with the promise to pay it back after harvest. All of these bills have to be paid before any personal money can be claimed.

     Do you remember "The Gambler," the song that Kenny Rogers wrote and sang? I've taken that song and changed the words a bit to fit our agriculture gambling situation:

You have to know when to plant the seeds,

Know when to irrigate,

Know when to harvest,

And know when it's all too late.

One thing is important,

As you're working on the land,

And that is: don't count your money

Until the money's in your hand.

There's a secret to survivin'

This long-term farmin' game,

'Cause every crop's a winner and every crop's a loser,

So gamblin' is our occupation's name.

     Yes, farmers are big-tie gamblers and yes there will always be another year. But after a summer like this one, it might be hard to bounce back. For some of our local farmers the ball may have lost it's bounce. Most farmers and ranchers will do everything they can to reinflate their ball, get their feet back in the farming game, move on and face another gable next year. But there may be some that pull right out of the game. 

Winter Evening Reflections

One of the things I really appreciate about our winter months are the beautiful sunsets with the snow in the foreground. The pastel colors showing forth in the sky as the sun goes down really are soothing and eye catching.
     Winter evenings come early and the nights are long. But I have found real contentment in them this year. I've enjoyed ending my day early:  relaxing, sitting by Boyd, reading while he watches sports on TV. I've done some knitting in the evenings, some planning for the next day, and some time just sitting. And I feel that it has been good for me.
     During the spring, summer, and fall I rarely get the chance to just sit. I'm one that enjoys and needs  "alone" time, and that time doesn't come often when you live on a farm/ranch. Because Boyd can become so absorbed in the sports on TV, this time can almost be equal to "alone" time for me.
     It is comforting, though, to have him close! And our elderly dog, Spotty, is always on the back porch this time of the year unless she is following Boyd out through the cows. Spotty is getting quite  cross as she ages, a lot like me, but she still is a comfort to have around. and if anyone comes to the back door she certainly lets s and them know that she is there ready to protect the occupants of her home.
     Our cat, Smokey, decided to come in onto the back porch yesterday, and Spotty let him know that he was not a welcome visitor. Smokey is getting really big and he must be catching lots of mice and other small animals, as his coat is shiny. Of course he begs two or three times a day for the cat food that we give him.

     We received fresh snow yesterday which adds to the beauty of the time of year. Yes, it has been cold and is often miserable to go out in the cold to do chores and take care of the animals like Boyd and the guys have to do. I've tried to have lots of soups and stews ready for them to eat when they come into the house, and we always have hot chocolate available.
     A warm house sure makes us appreciative of what we have as compared to our ancestors. Yes, they had wood and coal burning stoves to keep their homes warm, but most of their homes were without insulation. In some of the old homestead homes at the ranch, we have found walls that have been lined with newspapers. I am sure that was to keep the cold winds from coming in through the cracks between the logs and boards of the outer walls of the house.
     And they usually didn't have a back porch or mud room, where the men could take off their boots and outer clothing before entering into the main part of the house. So mud and snow would be tracked through the house this time of the year. Makes me shiver just thinking of the cold they had to put up with, but inside and outside.

MEMORIAL DAY

            Memorial Day is a United States federal holiday observed annually on the last Monday of May. Formerly known as Decoration Day, it originated after the Civil War to commemorate the fallen Union soldiers of that war. By the 20^th century this holiday had been extended to honor all Americans who had died while serving in the United States Armed Forces.

More than one area claims the title of having the first Memorial Day celebration. According to my internet research, in 1865 a druggist in the village of Waterloo, New York by the name of Henry C. Welles, was at a social gathering and brought up the subject of decorating the graves of the dead of the Civil War. Welles again mentioned this in 1866 to General John B. Murray, Seneca County Clerk. General Murray liked this idea and formed a committee to plan a day to honoring the dead. On May 5, 1866, civic groups followed veterans marching to martial music as they visited three cemeteries in the area. Long services were held at each cemetery including speeches by General Murray and a local clergyman. This was repeated on the same date one year later. On May 5, 1868, the first official recognition of Decoration/Memorial Day was issued by General John A. Logan, who was the first commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Memorial Day is still commemorated each year in Waterloo with a parade, speeches, and solemn observances.

            Another claim to the first Memorial Day observance, held in Charleston, South Carolina, was on May 1, 1865.  During the Civil War, Union prisoners were held at the Charleston Race Course. At least 257 Union prisoners died there and were buried in unmarked graves.

            Freedmen (freed slaves) were aware of the Union dead and decided to honor them. Together with educators and missionaries, the blacks in Charleston organized a May Day ceremony, which many claim be called the “First Decoration Day.” In preparation for this day, the freedmen cleaned and landscaped the burial ground. Close to ten thousand people, mostly freedmen, gathered on May 1 to commemorate the dead.

            In 1915 Mona Michael, inspired by the poem “In Flanders Fields,” wrote the following poem:

We cherish too, the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led,

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

She then came up with the idea of wearing red poppies on Memorial Day in honor of those who died serving the nation in war. She was the first to wear one, and sold poppies to her friends and co-workers with the money going to benefit servicemen in need. This tradition is still active.       

In 1971, the National Holiday Act was passed and in most states Memorial Day is observed on the last Monday of May. In 2002, the Veterans of Foreign Wars stated that “changing the date merely to create three-day weekends has undermined the very meaning of the day. No doubt, this has contributed greatly to the general public’s nonchalant observance of Memorial Day.”

Traditional observance of Memorial Day has diminished over the years. Many Americans have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At some cemeteries the graves of the fallen are ignored and neglected. Some think the day is for honoring any and all dead, not just those fallen in service to our country.

            As we celebrate this holiday with our barbeques, picnics, family gatherings, I hope each of us will remember the men and women in the Armed Forces who have lost their lives. It would also be a good time to reflect on and be grateful for those serving in the United States Armed Forces today, representing all of us in their effort to help others become free.