A Memorable Memorial Day
Our tradition, as the keepers of the Edward B. Cutter footlocker and luggage, is to attend the City of Anoka Memorial Day service. The event, organized by the (Edward B. Cutter) American Legion Post 102 of Anoka, always draws a large crowd — especially when the weather cooperates and the veterans park looks gorgeous along the river.
For us, the ceremony begins with a few smiles and nods to those we know, followed by bear hugs from the Vietnam vets on duty for the 21 gun salute. We take our place on the blue plastic chair set out for us (this year I got smart and brought a more comfortable lawn chair) and watch folks file into the terrace, the dignitaries into the stage, and the band magically appear.
We listen, feel the feels, recognize those present and absent, then…poof. Somehow move from that to boating and brats. It never has quite fit right.
This year, Mr. Darcy and I ate some lunch then continued on with the pickup for my Facebook marketplace discovery—a table and chair for the office space. I had spent an embarrassing amount of time searching for a “thing” to set my computer on, getting increasingly more frustrated. My current desk is just too large for the space (it will likely work well for Sara’s, however) and, in defending my choice of a mere 45 inches in width, I have admitted my tendency to simply fill a horizontal axis with vertical piles.
Thus leaving me happily ensconced in the land of “organization,” Mr. Darcy planned to exercise his Parks Manager muscles and sort out the question of the irrigation system. As in (for me, at least) make the scary beast under the earth squirt water and make sense. Please. I missed that day in Journalism school.
As the evening clicked by and we puttered with our jobs, a cup of tea, and a growing list of “do you know what I just noticed?” items, the magic of a HOUSE became evident. I had long ago kicked off my shoes, Mr. Darcy had forgotten we still needed to drive home and feed our cows. . The lamp light felt cozy instead of the glare from overhead office lights. The wallpaper, wood trim, and furniture vibrated at a different rate than institutional paint.
Resigning ourselves to the idea of a Culver’s drive through on the way home, we reported in with Caretaker Ella, clicked off the lights, and as we closed the door, it felt right to quietly wish our Ticknor house sweet dreams and thank it for a memorable day.