Memorial Day 2009

Two things related to remembering.

Carl and I drove to Elyria this weekend to visit Mom and Mary. Arrived late afternoon on Friday and got up early Saturday morning to go to the West Side Market in Cleveland. What a place! So old world.

The main market building, with beautiful convex tiled ceilings, a minaret type post at one corner and crowds bustling about, is an adventure in crowds, sights and smells. Meat vendors sell sausage, pigs feet, apple cured bacon, seafood, pasties and sandwiches. Each shop inside is marked by a glazed terra cotta marker. G12, H6.

We all split up, C and I right off stopped for a brat with sauerkraut after strolling through the produce market. It was all too tempting. Bought too much and so overstuffed the car on the way home today. Berries, melon, pineapple, chiles rellenos, fried rice. Dangerous, dangerous! We also bought fixings for a delicious dinner last night. Fresh pasta, sauce and sausage. Edye came over and we had a lovely meal.

On the way out of the market, I noticed a small group of demonstrators, standing vigil against the wars -- if that's what you can call them -- in Iraq and Afghanistan. One was a Vietnam vet. I took some video but what I emailed from my cell phone  is about two seconds long. Basically, they are there every day, to remind people of the sacrifices and cost of our efforts in those places.

Second thing. Listening to the radio on the way home, in range of Pittsburgh's WDVE FM station, the DJ played a request for Richie Havens' "Handsome Johnny," anthem to young soldiers who go to fight old mens' wars. I had never heard it before.

A third thing. I remember my Dad and my brother, Chris. Dad was gone just before Memorial Day in 1995 and Chris not too long after in 2005.

 Your loss always makes me melancholy this time of year. We had a wonderful dinner out with Dad at Jim's before he died and a great Memorial Day party with Chris and Edye six weeks before Chris, too was gone. I miss both of you more than I can say.

And to all others: Thank you. And I wish you all were home and had never been away.