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Who celebrates Memorial Day?

We've long forgotten what we were supposed to memorialize, dividing up the duty between the more ideological Independence day and the more recognizably named Veteran's day. So on this special day that few celebrate but even fewer have to work on, I've decided to reinvent Memorial Day. Here's my idea:

We'll eat food from recipies we haven't googled, and have fun activities from yesteryear like Concentration and Husker Du. What's more, we'll call up our friends to join us--dailing their actual numbers instead of using voice activation and speed presets.

Orators' rhetoric will be the fireworks of the day; prompters and cue cards will have the day off, and festivals will be held showcasing speakers of all age groups reciting memorized passages of years gone by. Far from the lectern will the speech-reading presenter be banished. Prizes will be awarded for those who can recognize past presidents by face (not just the scandalous ones).

When you think about it, there's really something ironic about celebrating how little we bother remembering things on a holiday now most associated with the opening of public swimming pools. Perhaps, it might also give us pause to reflect one what society really gains--or loses--when we relieve ourselves of mental burden.

03.08 DC

Wacky Wedding

Today my father married his third wife. I mulled over the idea of not attending, but decided to go. As fate would have it, we ended up missing the ceremony completely. There were apparently no hard feelings, though, as followed the party to the reception before heading home.

It's not easy to watch anyone marry a third spouse. You begin to wonder why they're trying again, what will they gain from yet another endeavor, and, especially, whether they've modified their selection criteria since the last time. It's harder still when it's your father, to whom you owe half of your genes directly (and the other specifically through his preference). You want to wish them good luck, but you'd rather investigate for a good reason.

Perhaps that explains why today was the second time in my life that I've met the woman who now could technically petition to be called stepmother. The first time was over Thanksgiving, and I assume that is sometime near the beginning of their relationship; I have no idea. Honestly, last week I was asking my sister what her name was. Again. And it didn't help that I was told of the plan to marry about six weeks ago, and the ceremony was expedited--a month earlier than originally stated. By the time my MapQuest placed me at the church 30 minutes late, having missed the entirety of the ceremony, I couldn't muster any more suspicious confusion if I tried.

The trick, though, is to blame this all on my dad. Rather than chalk this up to the machinations of a secretive and conniving black widow who has it out for my father's blood, that is. Because honestly, who'd want to think that their father would hop into such deep level of relationship without even really working you into the equation? Despite my natural tendency to defend my father's logic, today I must look find him guilty of putting his family at a disadvantage.

We now have the uphill battle of befriending someone who is already to be considered a part of us. We now must open our arms without abandon to a mere acquaintance--someone I've seen less than my neighborhood panhandler.We must do the work of courting her after the wedding.

My work revolves around understanding experiences, so I embrace the opportunity to feel something new. Today, as my father makes post-honeymoon plans to jettison his possessions and move in with his new bride (address unknown), I certainly have something different to add to my collection of unique scenarios.

Thanks dad, and best wishes to you and your beautiful bride.

temple at night