Dinner Party in Heaven

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Berlin-_Dinner_table_at_dance_room_in_the_Mitte_-_2664.jpg

The other morning as I was driving to work in traffic, I remembering the presentation I gave for the Livermore-Amador Genealogical Society.  I was thinking about other presentations I could do for a smaller group that I’m in and I thought of the Pioneer Corps of the Civil War.  I want to learn more about them, so why not also do a presentation?

Then my mind wandered (as it often does…).  I considered my grandfather from the Civil War, Miles Price-- how much I know about him and how I could give a whole presentation about him in general.  Then I wandered in my head to what I DON’T know about him.  Then it wandered to Dad and I working together to learn more about him.  Then it wandered to Dad-- as most things do.

I was pondering what happens After.  Is there an After?  If there is, what do I want it to be?  So then I planned a Dinner Party in Heaven.  If I can just decide what is After, I’m deciding that it’s all my ancestors at my beck and call.  I will throw a dinner party, featuring a long table with towers of cheese (my favorite food), bottles of wine, and all kinds of delicious delicacies.  I sit at the head of the table (it is MY heaven, afterall).  To my right is my dad and to my left is Miles Price.  Dad and I have our heads close together, balanced on our hands in rapture with Miles’ voice.  As if engulfing our minds of all he is telling us makes our heads too heavy to hold up without our elbows’ support.

Miles will acquaint us with his childhood in Pennsylvania.  Who he lived with, what happened to his parents, the names of his parents.  Miles will talk of his trip from Pennsylvania to Illinois. When it was, who he traveled with, how they traveled.  He will tell us of meeting his wife, of his first born child, his political views.  Miles will share the FEELINGS he had during his time in the Civil War.  We know what he did and where he went.  Until he shared those stories, we didn’t know how he felt.  He will let us know he was glad to be chosen for the Pioneers.  Or maybe he wasn’t.  He will recount us of his time spent in the makeshift hospital on train cars while suffering the measles.  He will let us know his most prideful times.  His embarrassing moments.  He will reveal what it was like to leave Illinois to make his home in Iowa.  Then he will hint of his daughter, my second great grandmother.  What she was like as a child.  She will be to his left at my dinner table, smiling at his words that she’s heard so often.  I’m not ready to hear from her yet—I’m devoted to her father for now.  Her time will come, so for now she smiles a lovely smile.

Miles will spill the beans about how the names of his children were chosen.  Who they were named for, why.  He will  everything, until we know Miles as we know ourselves.  It’s only then that I can change positions to focus on another ancestor.  Perhaps his daughter, Hattie.  Perhaps other faces at the table will become more clear and my focus will be shifted at my Dinner Party in Heaven as it is on my genealogy on earth.

Maybe I will see my maternal second great grandmother, Laura Wilkinson.  I have some questions for her about her life, too.  Perhaps I will notice down at the end is my second great grandfather, husband of Hattie.  I can give him a hug and a kiss.  He remembers me from that time we met when I was two years old.  My great grandfather is to my Dad’s right, with his wife and my two grandmothers next to her.  They all knew each other and are talking amongst themselves until it’s their turn.

My Dinner Party in Heaven will be wonderful and may be so long that turn into my Breakfast Party in Heaven… days later.  I think I’ll start mapping the seating arrangements and planning the menu.

Sport Center Saturday: Hole in One

When Molly was going through Dad’s papers, she came across his 15 minutes of fame.  He was so proud of this moment, that he literally had about 20 copies in sorts of blown up sizes of the newspaper article.  She also found his score card from the day.

I was thinking of him a lot today.  I hope he’s hitting a bunch of hole in ones the sky.  And WITHOUT getting his car totaled outside a bar…

Who Inspires You?

Thomas MacEntee asked the question, "Who inspires you?"  Specifically, he asked, “Who inspires you when it comes to genealogy and family history?”  I thought about this on the way to work yesterday and came up with a lot of names and a lot of thankfulness.  I expanded the question in my head to who inspires all parts of me, even the non-genealogy parts. 

Different people inspire me for different aspects of my life.  The Livermore-Amador Genealogical Society inspires me to learn more so that I can share more.  My children's 4-H club inspires me to perform community services and better help  others.  My husband inspires me to be more artistic and to be a better person.  My children inspire me to love and listen and learn.  My fellow online genealogy world friends inspire me to continue seeking and sharing my genealogy story.

But who really inspires me?  Who makes me think and be proud and wonder at life in amazement?  My ancestors.

They came from everywhere and through everything and yet here I am.  I can complain and worry and fret, but then I can remember that they had it harder and yet here I am.  Nothing can ever be that bad when you have generations of experience behind you, pushing you to just keep going.

They call to me with a story to tell.  Once I hear the story, another calls to me to hear theirs.  It is those calling ancestors that inspire my genealogy.  They want me to look for and find a birth, a death, a marriage.  A story. Something.  Anything.  They keep me going and keep me wondering and keep me looking.

My current ancestor of inspiration is my dad.  I miss him every single moment of every single day, but I know what he is calling for me to do is finish all those stories I started before he left so that I can hurry the hell up and get to him. 

Soon, Dad.  It is Family History Writing Challenge month, you know.

The Funeral

I’ve been putting off writing about Dad’s funeral.  I guess because I’m not sure what to say and kinda sorta didn't want to relive it, but I need to say SOMETHING.  So today I decided to just begin writing and see what happens.

The day of the funeral began with preparing for the after-party.  Set-up of the room and shopping and whatnot.  The Medford, Oregon weather cooperated and the sun shone for my dad’s final goodbye.  We arrived at the Eagle Point National Cemetery at 12:45pm and the afternoon began at 1:00 p.m. with the playing of Taps and the flag-folding ceremony.  Much tears were had (and are still being had) over Taps.  If my dad were here, he and I would be discussing the history of Taps and the flag folding.  I’d pull it up on my iPad and he on his Google and we’d spend about 45 minutes in deep research over the history of Taps.

In honor of Dad… (and with thanks to Wikipedia, Department of Veteran’s Affairs, and West Point.)

Taps is traditionally played on a bugle and features a mere 24 notes.  It is taken from a French bugle signal that notified soldiers to stop drinking and return to camp (called, “Tatoo”).  The last five measures of Tatoo, apparently, resemble that of Taps.  This last call came an hour before the final bugle call to end the day and turn out the lights, which was called, “L’Extinction des feux.” 

Today’s Taps was created during the Civil War by Union general Daniel Adams Butterfield in Harrison Landing, Virginia.  He decided the “lights out” music was too formal and so in July of 1862 he hummed what he remembered of Tatoo and an aide wrote it down in music. Butterfield then asked the brigade bugler, Oliver W. Norton, to play it and, after some work, it became the call at the end of each day.  Union and Confederate buglers alike began using this as the call at the end of the day.  It was given the name, “Taps” in 1874 after the command, “Tap Toe”, which was to shut the tap of a keg. 

With its beginnings as a call to end the day, Dad and I might wonder when it started to be used in military funerals.  While fitting (what more end to the day could one possibly have???), there was already a three gun firing over the grave as part of a military funeral.  So we’d find that later in 1862, Captain John C. Tidball began the custom when one of his soldier’s died.  They were not allowed to fire the guns due to giving away their position.  But they were allowed to play Taps.  And the tradition began.   By 1891, it was a standard component in US military funerals.

Following Taps, the soldiers performed the flag folding ceremony, whereby two soldiers truly made a ceremony of folding the flag.  I found these instructions on publications.us.gov and this is pretty much exactly how it went:

FOLDING THE FLAG

1. Two persons, facing each other, hold the flag waist high and horizontally between them.
2. The lower striped section is folded, lengthwise, over the blue field. Hold bottom to top and edges together securely.
3. Fold the flag again, lengthwise, folded edge to open edge.
4. A triangular fold is started along the length of the flag, from the end to the heading by bringing the striped corner of the folded edge to meet the open edge.
5. The outer point is turned inward parallel with the open edge, forming a second triangle.
6. Repeat the triangular folding until the entire length of the flag is folded.
7. When the flag is completely folded only the triangular blue field should be visible.

“A properly proportioned flag will fold 13 times on the triangles, representing the 13 original colonies. The folded flag is emblematic of the tri-cornered hat worn by the Patriots of the American Revolution. When folded, no red or white stripe is to be evident, leaving only the blue field with stars.”  

Dad’s flag was presented to my Dad's wonderful wife Molly as a keepsake for his service in the U.S. Navy.  The soldier knelt before her with the flag held out and said the words, “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Navy, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service.”

And Dad got his Final Salute.

Links:

http://militarysalute.proboards45.com/in....play&thread=737

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_funerals_in_the_United_States

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_funerals_in_the_United_States

http://publications.usa.gov/epublications/ourflag/flagdetails.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taps#History

http://www.va.gov/opa/publications/celebrate/taps.pdf

http://www.west-point.org/taps/Taps.html

Funeral Card Friday- Dad

Front:

Back:

 

I wrote this poem for Dad's funeral card. I searched the internet for something appropriate and couldn't find anything so knew I had to figure something out.  A friend from my local genealogical society loves poetry and so I channeled her energy and tried my hand.  Each line is directly related to a memory or memories of Dad.  He loved the stars, the color blue, cats, fishing.  He loved his friends, made trouble, had enemies.  He was an amazing person and a wonderful dad.  So this poem was for him.  Oh, and he called me, "Shorty."