Memorial Day 2012

And once again I say hello to you all. This is another scheduled post, as I’m not sure how busy I shall be during this period as I get settled in after our family finishes moving. So once again I leave you with something to read.

Often when I write, I write about something fictional. I write about a character based off of myself, somewhere else. I write about other people in places I’ve imagined. I write and am transported to another place, another time, another reality. But sometimes, I decide to write something that’s real. Not contemporary fiction, but something that really happened. It’s not often, but I do it. Earlier on I posted a short section from my memoir. The following selection is also from my memoir, and takes place on Memorial Day 2012. It’s fairly abrupt, but basically a brief snippet of a part of my day. As always, enjoy.

The mayor’s talking by the time I find somewhere good to stand, and then there’s a 21-gun salute. After that, there’s a prayer, a short speech by Barry, and a flower procession of sorts done by some little girls. Phillip plays “Amazing Grace” on the saxophone. Before I know it, the program is done, and there’s coffee and donuts for everyone, courtesy of a local bakery, I’m told.
There are Boston maple donuts, red, white, and blue donuts, jelly filled donuts, sugar donuts, and so many more I’m not sure which one to have. Decisions, decisions.
“You should really have one of those maple donuts,” a middle-aged lady says to me as she takes one. “They’re so—mm, mmm—delicious and sticky that they’re—oh, this is so good—a must have.” The woman winks and finishes the donut. I grin and try one. Hmm. It’s a little too sweet, but I finish it, then have some coffee to wash it all down. I only have it after I’ve poured in half a carton of half-and-half and several packets of sugar.
At exactly 8:30, everyone starts pulling out to go to the nearby village of Broadalbin for the parade. Pastor Mark puts all of the coffee and donuts in his car, and some of the church people help him. The Sunday school teacher for the teens offers to take me to Broadalbin and bring me back when it’s over. She introduces me to her husband and granddaughter, Laura, who I’ve already met earlier on.
It only takes about five minutes for us to get to Broadalbin. It’s a really small place, with practically everything on a couple of streets. We park in the small parking lot, then wait to cross the street. There are police cars, float trucks, vans, and all kinds of vehicles getting ready for the parade. I see a Freemason building. Interesting.
Once all of the church folks have set up their folding chairs and spray themselves with sunscreen and insect repellent, Pastor Mark says we can pass out the remaining donuts to everyone. I help myself to one more, then grab a box and walk to the back streets, where all the people are getting ready. I see the Perth Academy float truck.
Most of my donuts are gone in the first five or so minutes. I see a lady and her husband sitting in a car, and I go over and ask, “Would you like some donuts, ma’am?”
“No thanks, sweetie, I’m good,” she replies.
“Oh, get one for me then, Nancy,” her husband says. She glares at him.
I realize that she thinks she has to pay for them, and I roll my eyes. “They’re free, you know.”
“Oh, really?” She raises an eyebrow. “Then I’ll have one for each of us!” I grab a napkin and give her two, and she bites into hers, laughing a little. “Oh, this is so good. Thanks, dear.”
“Uh, you’re welcome,” I say and walk off.
“Isn’t he the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?” I hear her say before she’s out of my hearing range. I fume.
Soon, the parade starts, and I find a good area to watch. There are police cars and fire trucks, marching bands and float trucks, and plenty of candy. It’s a glorious time, and when it’s done, everyone claps.

Once again, I thank you for taking the time to read through this post. Have a wonderful day, good people!

“Embrace complicatedness.” —IrishLioness

2 thoughts on “Memorial Day 2012

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