Over the Memorial Day holiday weekend, I flew home to see my parents.  They live in a very small, rural Midwestern town where the pace of life (at least compared to my own) is much slower.  I always joke around that the clock stopped somewhere around the mid 1960’s. 

    Needless to say, there isn’t much to do – no fancy restaurants, no high priced boutiques, no shopping centers (just a sprawling Wal-Mart) , no multi-plex theaters and not really any state-of-the-art anything.

   But my parents do have a tradition, that I treasure.   They go and decorate the graves of family members.   Some of the cemeteries are out of the way, down country roads or tucked away where time has taken its toll on gravestones and markers.   

     My parents will tend the area around the gravesites and set out fresh flowers.   My mother makes sure American flags are posted on the tombstones of relatives who served our country.    It’s a tradition that has meaning and reverence for long departed loved ones.  

    My mother’s great grandfather served in the Union Army, part of the Iowa regiment.   Her father (my grandfather) served in Korea.   My grandfather on my dad’s side was a veteran.   My family never forgets.   In this weekend’s travels to these gravesites, I learn a little more about my family history.  I thank my parents for this tradition and admire them for it.