Thirtieth Day Parade

Thirtieth Day Parade. That's what I knew Memorial Day as when I was a kid. There was a time when Memorial Day was always held on May 30th. It wasn't rearranged in the calendar just so we could have a three day weekend. At home it is still called the Thirtieth Day Parade.
For several weeks before Memorial Day, we practiced marching at school. Yes, it was a public school not a military school. Every classroom would line up by grade. Kindergarteners in the front, then first grade, second, all the way up to the big sixth graders. In straight lines five wide, we practiced marching on the playground. After a few days of that we moved our march to the road in front of the school. We learned that the kids on the outside of a curve had to walk faster than the kids on the inside of the curve. We practiced cradling a flag in our left arm and flowers in our right. This was important, patriotic, and respectful.
The morning of the Thirtieth Day Parade white and pink peonies and purple irises would be cut from the yard and placed in a wet paper towel then wrapped in aluminum foil. Dressed in all white, girls in dresses and sunbonnets boys in slacks and dress shoes, school children from all over the county would meet in town clutching variations of freshly picked flowers and small American flags.
Bands and floats would lead the way through the streets of Grafton. Everyone and their mother was lined up on the sidewalks to watch. Then came the school children. We were told not to look at anyone, but keep our eyes straight ahead. This was important, solemn, reverent.
We were marching to the National Cemetery in the middle of town. Here lay the first casualty of the Civil War. Here gathered the Veterans of WW1 and WW2. Walled in by ancient, thick stones, the bright white headstones lined perfectly with each other no matter which way you looked. And it was here that hundreds of school children would quietly end their march, gingerly walk through the rows of graves, and silently select a headstone to adorn with flowers and flag. This was important, dutiful, appreciative.
Leaving the cemetery, we would be ushered a couple of blocks over to the local Garden Fresh grocery store. The owner would reward us with a treat, some years frozen fudge bars and other years Nutty Buddies. Once or twice we even had ice cream cups with little wooden "spoons". Then parents would gather their youngsters up and try to see the end of the parade, more bands, floats, even clowns and Shriners in crazy, little toy cars. This was important, rewarding, valuable.
The lesson learned by this yearly community tradition was that life is serious business and deserves serious respect, but doing your duty also brings privileges and rewards. Memorial Day was not a day off of school, time for a picnic, sales at the stores, although it was all of those, too. Memorial Day was important, consecrated, and valuable.