/ex/amine/
writegirl2000@hotmail.com
Memorial Day 2003 found me sitting in my blue-and-white striped camp chair on the corner of Main and Louise in Tiny Town, WI. I was there to see a 14-year-old boy, my relative, play the drums. Tiny Town has a yellow ribbon on every tree, telephone pole, and real estate "For Sale" sign in town. They are super patriotic and old, except for the new housing project and school on the north side of town.
When I first arrived I saw two fire engines and a few police cars surrounding a brand new Harley on a cart sporting a "Win This" banner. I asked where the parade route started, but no one new. Just go over to Main, they said.
No one had put up barricades, so when the parade started if you were at the light, you were stuck. Turn off your engine and enjoy the 10 minutes.
The parade was fronted by the veterans, all 13 of them. They were nearly ancient, well over 50, closer to 80. Then came the bands, 7th and 8th graders. I did a shout out to my nephew, but he didn't hear me. Bands are loud.
I grabbed my chair and headed for my car. I didn't want to miss The Absent-Minded Professor. I figured the parade would end at the Veteran's Hall, a small concrete building down by the creek. I once was a bridesmaid at the Methodist Church for Candy Duros' wedding and the reception was held there. (It was the first time I ever saw a bride get pinned all over with money.)
Inside they were holding a small craft fair. Very loving hands stuff…crocheted potholders, baby quilts, tissue covers with doll heads on top, and handmade aprons. When did anyone wear an apron anymore? I bought one.
The best part was all of the homemade food the elderly ladies were setting out. I was drooling. "Could I buy tickets?"
"No tickets. This is for the veterans, the people in the parade."
"Does a drummer count?" I asked pointing to my nephew.
"Yes." She replied. "Just wait until everyone is seated.
We went outside and down to the creek because older people take a looooooong time to get seated. When we returned I grabbed a deviled egg and another woman said I needed to wait for the prayer. Okay. I didn't mean to be so grimy and uncouth. It's just that I really wanted this food, food Wisconsin-style, food like the kind my Mom would make. Sure, we could have gone to one of the local restaurants. Been there, done that, a million times. I wanted THIS food.
Even though I wasn't a good daughter. I hadn't gone north this Memorial Day. I hadn't planted red geraniums on the graves.
My nephew and I waited silently on the side. "Let's buy tickets." We went around to all of the seller booths and bought rafflers….the Harley $25.00, a quilt, skateboard deck, or decorated chair 6 for $5.00, a cammo ATV $10.00…all of the money went to the community of Tiny Town.
The prayer was over and the old people all were eating when we stuffed our pockets with tickets. I took one teaspoonful of everything! My nephew being 14 and famished, finished 3 plates! We ate outside on old wooden picnic tables with traces of peeling purple paint that were stacked at the back of the building. We talked about my dead parents, veterans, and food.
It was good.
I dropped him off home and shot back down to Illinois. Yum. Yum. Yum.
