“Our nation owes a debt to its fallen heroes that we can never fully repay.”
Posted May 25, 2026 by katryCategories: Musings
For special days, I have traditional postings. This is one of them.
Memorial Day is a day for reflection and a day to give thanks. It is a day for honoring the men and women who died while serving in the U.S. military, those who gave, as President Lincoln once said, their “…last full measure of devotion.” This is my annual tribute.
Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation’s service. It originated during the American Civi War when citizens placed flowers on the graves of those who had been killed in battle. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women’s groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, “Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping” by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication “To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead.”
While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it’s difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860′s tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in General Logan, Commander in Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, giving his official proclamation in 1868 designating May 30 as a memorial day “.. for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land.” It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.
Zorro: The Chordettes
Posted May 24, 2026 by katryCategories: Video
I was looking for Never on Sunday and found this instead. It is such an odd song by the I decided to post it.
“When sunlight meets rain, rainbows are born in love with the world. Happy wet Sunday.”
Posted May 24, 2026 by katryCategories: Musings
Tags: dump run, family, Ghana, motorcycle, Peace Corps, rain
The rain began last night. A rain so quiet I didn’t realize it had started until the dogs came inside with wet fur. This morning is the same. I didn’t realize it was raining until I went to get the newspaper. Scattered showers are predicted. It is cold for the end of May, 55°. I have a dump run on my to do list. Sunday is a big day here for dump runs, but I suspect the rain will be a deterrent.
I miss the Sundays of my childhood. I think one day should continue to be set aside for families, for a real breakfast of eggs and bacon and toast eaten at the kitchen table, for rides to nowhere, for Sunday dinners, the special dinner of the week, for a lazy day at the beach and, especially, a day for families just to be together, maybe doing nothing but sitting around and watching a movie or even playing a board game the way we did when I was a kid. Six days are enough for a whirling world.
I put my shower curtain back up yesterday. I had to haul my stepladder up the stairs. It is quite heavy making it difficult to move, a one step at a time project. It has a hold bar at the top making it wonderfully safe. I easily managed to rehang the curtain at the exact right height then I started the arduous task of bringing the stepladder back to the cellar stairs where I keep it leaning against the wall so I can grab it easily. The ladder made it down the first couple of steps then I lost control. It slid down the rest of the steps. I wasn’t dismayed. I was glad I didn’t have to move it much further.
The first year I was in Ghana we were not allowed to drive a car or have a motorcycle except the guys who were track coaches were given motorcycles by Peace Corps as they had to travel from school to school. Why they were safe to drive and we weren’t always irked me a bit; however, during my second year that ban was lifted. I went to Tamale, the big city, to buy a moto as the Ghanaians called motorcycles. I bought a small bike, a Honda 90, for lots of reasons. It was one I could afford, it was easy to drive and it maintained my modesty as I always had to wear a dress. I had never even ridden on a bike let alone driven one. The guy at the store had to teach me how to use the gears and the brake. I rode around the store’s lot for a while until I felt I could probably ride home safely, a trip of 100 miles, but it was a straight road, an easy road. I delighted in the ride. It was wonderful to see everything so up close as I drove by. I ate a few bugs. I stopped a couple of times. I made it home safely. It was the best ride I ever had.
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