Dead Relatives Tour

Cuzzin Ricky and I did the Dead Relatives Tour this morning planting flowers on the graves of the parents, grand-parents, uncles, etc. as we normally do on Memorial Day weekend. It was a little more somber this year with the recent passing of my brother, especially since we didn't get ten miles down the road before we had a flat tire. Since Johnny decided to go back to college a week ago, I'm not sure where his final resting place will be. The Missus looked into it a little and it appears that if you donate your body to Indiana University, eventually you'll end up in Crown Hill Cemetery in Indy unless you make other arrangements. That's a beautiful place. It's the final resting place of James Whitcomb Riley, Benjamin Harrison and John Dillinger among many others. It's a little far way to add to the Tour, unfortunately. Especially if you're just going to plant a couple of geraniums and pay your respects.

When I did the bicycle ride out west a few years ago, I met a couple of guys on motorcycles who were on their way to visit their father's resting places. They meet up and one year they go east to visit the one guy's father and then two years later they head west to visit the other one's father. Nice deal, really. A road trip with your best bud to pay your respects to your Pop. Indy is not that far for Cuzzin Ricky and I to take the show on the road but with the 500 on Memorial Day weekend, we might want to pick a different time. We'll work something out.

The Boy Scouts were putting the American flags on the veterans graves at both cemeteries while we were there  this morning. Thanks to all of them for doing that. I've been to lots of cemeteries and they all look so much nicer on Memorial Day when the graves are decorated and the flags are out.

John McCrae, 1915.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.

Enjoy your holiday everyone.