Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock.
Memorial Day is just about my favorite holiday. It brings back so many memories of different times in my life that made it such a great occasion. Not to mention it comes at the end of May AFTER school is out and summer is officially--or unofficially--ready to begin.
As a little girl it was the opportunity to be with my dad when he went down to the florist to pick up the fresh flowers he had ordered to decorate my brother Harold's grave. It was always an early prospect with a definite chill in the air when we started out. After all this was Wyoming in May. Then it was home to arrange the flowers in the huge crocks which were stored for just this ritual every year. All was ready before breakfast so we could get out to the Rawlins cemetery as early as possible.
Marcia and I liked to visit the graves which had the most interesting headstones. My favorite was George Eliopoulos, the local Greek boy who had been appointed a commission at West Point. He was killed when another cadet accidentally stabbed him with his bayonet during a marching drill. His marker was tall with a picture of him in his white dress uniform. The metal frame was oval and had a cover which could be moved back to reveal the photograph. He was a handsome young man.
By the time Marce and I got back to Harold's grave, all the flowers had been arranged, and we would go home to prepare the rest of our picnic lunch, which we usually had in the back yard. The mountains were still too snowy to go there. It was always fun, nevertheless.
As I got older, the family still went to the cemetery to put flowers on Harold's grave but I would also sometimes spend time with my friends. No stores were open, so no shopping and mega sales like nowadays. But we had a good time getting together for board games or an impromptu mini picnic at one or another's homes.
Memorial Day was still observed on May 30th in 1968 when I graduated from BYU. I went home for a quick trip after finals to zip down to Denver to find a job and a place to live (neither materialized) but I had a good time with my friend who drove and showed me around Denver. When we got back to Rawlins, I then celebrated with my family. Graduation day was May 31st, the day after Memorial Day, so I must have traveled on that day to get to Provo in time for my convocation.
It wasn't until 1971 that Memorial Day holiday has been officially observed on the last Monday in May. During the next few years after I got married, Ross and I would go back to Rawlins for Memorial Day to celebrate with the Huggins family. Then we began staying at home, probably when Ross was going to college, and celebrated by ourselves.
As the years rolled by Memorial Day became a day to clean the garage, sometimes wash the windows inside and out, and then celebrate our hard work and our clean house by having a picnic in our clean and cooler-than-the-house garage followed by games in our own backyard. I remember those holidays with great fondness.
Three times we STILL celebrated Memorial Day even though we were in Virginia, Sweden, and West Berlin. Those were family affairs for sure!
Then Jeremy died and we began making our own trek to a cemetery to put flowers on his grave--this time in Golden.
Next came the Bolder Boulder era, starting first with myself running the 10K race with Mel Casper and then in the years to follow with the kids. At first Harold and Brice were on their missions. When they came home they ran, too. Harold finished that first time in about 40 minutes, if I remember correctly. Brice was always out to have a good time and usually stopped for donuts along the way as he ran. Burgandy would run in her hiking boots! And her feet were in sad shape when we finished. We nearly had to carry her to the car when the race was over.
I am a walker, but on that one day of the year for the Bolder Boulder 10K race, I jogged. Even though there is a wave for walkers, I just couldn't walk like some wimp. I HATE running, though, so I wasn't very good at it. My finish time was always around an hour-twenty. One year I decided I would "train" so I could break an hour. That was my personal goal. To get in shape for the last month before the race, I would walk my 3.5 miles every morning, but run from Quaker Street home. Then I would jump on my bike and ride the exact same route.
When race day came, I reminded the family--actually Britty, because everyone else was faster than I was--that I wasn't going to go slow just to be with her. I told her that I would stick with her for the first mile, then I would go on ahead.
Now as I look back, I can't believe I did that. I ran with her for the first mile like I said, then forged on ahead calling over my shoulder, "Bye, Britty. See you at the finish line!" There were thousands of people in the race and thousands more watching. It wasn't until later when I DID cross the finish line that I began to regret that I had left her behind. My mind began imagining all kinds of scenarios. But, she stuck with it and crossed the finish line sometime later. I was a wreck until I saw her trudging along all by herself.
And MY finish time that year? Just OVER one hour because I had such a stitch in my side from jogging that I decided to walk from mile five to mile six then run the last stretch into the stadium ( you don't want to be the one walking into the stadium). All that effort and I still didn't break an hour! If I had just started to run about 500 feet earlier, I would have clocked 59 minutes instead of one hour and two or three minutes. Oh, well. But I wasn't interested in beating my own record anymore (too much work). However, Britty got better and better every year. (Now look at her....she runs marathons!)
I have had to fly most of the Memorial Day holidays in the 17 years since I began with United. And I have never run the Bolder Boulder since 2000. But the few years I have had it off, the Colorado Nichols would get together for a picnic and sometimes be joined by the Utah Nichols. I really enjoyed those years feasting, funning, and being with family. We even had one of Momma G's summer super-fests during a Memorial Day holiday weekend. That year it was "The Grands Go Hawaiian".
So, today I reminisced. I would have liked to go back in a time machine to one of those earlier years and feel that same exhilaration about Memorial Day that I used to....because today was an absolute NOTHING....didn't even take flowers to Jeremy's grave. The day was lackluster and non-descript.
Yes, sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock. But just maybe...next year's Memorial Day will be another memory-making event. Hope so!
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