Memorial day provides me with one of my more vivid childhood memories- going every year to Greensburg, IN with my Grandma and laying flowers on the graves of my great uncle Lawrence, who was killed in Europe in World War 2, and of my Grandpa Sturgis, a veteran who died of a heart attack when my dad was 5.

I remember that there were many stories, but despite my vivid memories of the trips, the memories of the stories have faded. Partially because they were painful stories to tell more than once a year or so, and because the primary keeper of those stories is gone now.

I think I’m going to try and put those pieces back together so it’s more than a memory of being bored on a day trip when I was too young to understand or care all that much about those bits of knowledge.