Camping (sort of): Memorial Day Weekend Part II & III

Part II of Memorial Day weekend was Sunday morning, we went to the cemeteries where some of our loved ones have been laid to rest. In the years past, I have loved going to the cemeteries with my parents, and my Grandma Wright, and they would point out who my relatives were that had passed on before me. I enjoyed taking my children with me this year, and showing them where these relatives were, and answering their questions the best I could. My Grandma had lots of plastic flowers that she would make sure every relative had a flower on their headstone on Memorial Day, and that they hadn't been forgotten. She has since passed away, and one of my aunts (I think) has taken over the tradition. They still all had plastic flowers next to their headstones. I have been tempted to drop this tradition, and do "funner" things with our family, and some years we chose the funner things. However, there is an experience about just how important this tradition is that I want to write about. It involves these four headstones pictured below.

My Grandma always went with her mother to place flowers on the headstones on Memorial Day to the various cemeteries throughout the valley. They would place these flowers in the Franklin, ID cemetery, where there had been four small children/babies buried in the 1800's. Over time, their little stone markers were buried by dirt and grass and forgotten and lost by everyone except my Grandma. She knew they were there, and she continued to place flowers where she had remembered these markings to be. A few years ago, a family wanted to bury a relative there, and she told them that there were these four already buried there. They tried to settle the dispute by looking on the cemetery records. They had no record of these gravesites. She wouldn't let it rest. She knew they were there, she knew their names, and exactly where they were, because she had been placing flowers there since she was a child. Finally, the cemetery worker prodded into the soil to see if he could find anything that gave any indication of people being buried there. Sure enough, his prodder hit a stone that had the name of Goaslind scratched into it. Then he found another, until he located them all - right where she said they would be. After that experience, my Grandma raised money to have proper headstones placed there, so that they wouldn't be forgotten again. I think that is such a neat story to demonstrate just how important that tradition of going to the cemeteries is to me. I love the opportunity to share with my children how much these ancestors mean to me.

My baby nephew, Cameron, who died at 9 months old.

Going back to these places helps bring back so many memories, some of them sad of course - but so many of them are wonderful.

PART III
We really wanted to go camping for the big kick-off to summer. But with schedule conflicts, it just wasn't happening. So we did what we could. We went to a close -by camping area on Sunday evening and ate our tinfoil dinners and roasted marshmallows. We even explored a cave. The best part of our "camping" trip was that we could go home, shower, and sleep in our comfy-cozy beds!

Ira and Kamden


Me and Kamden with his headlamp on - he didn't like it for too long...can't say I blame him!

The cave of wondersOur fire was going a bit better then that at one time. We didn't just smoke our marshmallows (that sounded bad, didn't it? - but you know what I mean)

Stay tuned for part IIII of our Memorial Day weekend. I know, the anticipation is just too much for you to bear, so make sure to come back and see the final activity!