{"id":24908,"date":"2021-05-13T11:55:34","date_gmt":"2021-05-13T18:55:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/?p=24908"},"modified":"2022-05-13T04:19:49","modified_gmt":"2022-05-13T11:19:49","slug":"memorial-day-in-manitowoc-wisconsin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/?p=24908","title":{"rendered":"Memorial Day in Manitowoc Wisconsin"},"content":{"rendered":"\r\n
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Memorial Day in Manitowoc Wisconsin<\/strong><\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

I took an inhalation and like Bash\u014d I traveled North\u00a0
Returning to native soil only to find my mother gone
Though unlike the hair in Bash\u014d\u2019s haiku
The silver strands caught in my mother\u2019s hair brush\u00a0
Did feel as though they would melt in my fingers
She was Wisconsin strong\u00a0
And so was her hair
And it still smelled like her<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

I exhaled and traveled south to find my father gone
He had left to chase my mother\u2019s ponytail into eternity
I inherited his sense of humor\u00a0
And wore a giant plastic wedge of cheese on my head
As I gave my father\u2019s eulogy in a bright green sari\u00a0
His favorite color<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Here I see my Mother\u00a0
Here I see my Father\u00a0
Here I see my brothers and sisters
And the line of my family reaching back through beginning-less time
We left coins on my parents tombstones\u00a0
Safe passage Mom and Dad for crossing both the rivers Styx and Lethe<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

My family takes so many photographs and movies
Among them\u00a0
Photographs of smiling children dancing on tombstones and graves sites
Like little \u015aivas and K\u0101l\u012bs
The older generations tell stories of posing in taffeta funeral dresses
Next to the caskets of the departed for stiffly posed pictures
Or cradling departed siblings in their arms to create final mementos<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Photographs like these inspired my sister to become a photographer
And a Wisconsin State Treasure
But by the time Julie had died\u00a0
We had forgotten how to practice some of the old rituals
The rituals that had once allowed us to embrace Death like a lover<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Now the younger generations call the old ways
\u201cWisconsin Death Trip\u201d
Once we knew our rituals of life were true\u00a0
Because our rituals of death were true
Large gravestones baring the family name\u00a0
As certain as hand and footprints on a certificates of live birth<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Here I see my Mother\u00a0
Here I see my Father\u00a0
Here I see my brothers and sisters
And the line of my family reaching back through beginning-less time
And when my time comes\u00a0
Leave coins for me, too
Two rivers to cross\u00a0
Same as it ever was<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

American Gothic
There they all lay in a Manitowoc cemetery\u00a0
My cradle named after Algonquian Demi-gods that rule nature
Though not death
The ancestors continuing to teach us
Even from the grave
Teach us about time\u00a0
And the folly of the vehement dreams and nightmares we choose to live
They are dust to dust
And they are the native soil\u00a0
On which I was nurtured\u00a0
And from which I drew my strength<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Sing of Carl Sandburg and the Midwestern bread basket
Corn ripening and falling to the earth only to rise again
Become the popcorn my nieces and nephews eat while watching Disney movies
Become cows
Become milk
Become cheese
Become butter
And the bodies of the farmers that plant and replant crops generation after generation
Stalwart sunburned men, women, and children whose graves we pass\u00a0
On the way to our family plot
For the annual Memorial Day picnic<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

The cookies are made from molds taken from tombstone imprints
Children\u00a0 merrily fight for particular flowers shapes
Or the letters that begin their given names
And the adults spill a little beer
Some because of clumsiness
And some on purpose<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

From time to time Memorial Day coincides with my oldest brother Phil\u2019s birthday
And then there is birthday sheet cake too
It is cut into perfect squares and served on paper plates\u00a0
Waiting for the greedy tiny finger to take it\u00a0
From the top of the largest granite family headstone\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Sing of graveyards on Memorial Day and family picnics\u00a0
Celebrating the generations past and present\u00a0
Variations\u00a0 on a singular theme
Experiencing a counterpoint in well kept bone orchards\u00a0
Proving that Omar Khayyam was right<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Sing of Bash\u014d\u2019s cicada
And it\u2019s song that showed no concern for imminent death
Like the children eating snicker-doodles, brownies and bars
That have been neatly packed in old shoeboxes saved for just such occasions
Carefully arranged in layers separated by wax paper<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

One day my breath will merge with the atmosphere\u00a0
Let me cover my body with this good rich earth\u00a0
Into which my ancestors have merged
In which they now rest
And on which the children are now playing
Their bodies too will someday become the loam that feeds America<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Immortality is a song passed down from generation to generation\u00a0
Always changing\u00a0
And never changing
It can be heard in the lowing of cows waiting to be milked\u00a0
And in the sound of seed corn and wheat filling silos at harvest time<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Life giving grain falling like rain<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Let my body become this good earth too
The first of many who will follow me\u00a0
And in the midst of all who have preceded me
Let me remember all of my deeds\u00a0
Good and evil\u00a0
So that I can say
I have learned<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Let me remember\u00a0
Let me remember\u00a0
Let me remember\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

It momentarily died again to became me\u00a0
Now let me live again to become It all<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

(By Heidi Lindemann and Michael Perry)<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

(Image Credit: Cicada, by Hobun Kikuchi \/ Ukiyo-e<\/a>)<\/p>\r\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Memorial Day in Manitowoc Wisconsin I took an inhalation and like Bash\u014d I traveled North\u00a0Returning to native soil only to find my mother goneThough unlike the hair in Bash\u014d\u2019s haikuThe silver strands caught in my mother\u2019s hair brush\u00a0Did feel as though they would melt in my fingersShe was Wisconsin strong\u00a0And so was her hairAnd it […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[6336,6337],"class_list":["post-24908","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general","tag-heidi-lindemann","tag-michael-perry","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24908","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=24908"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24908\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":26025,"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24908\/revisions\/26025"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=24908"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=24908"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.womeninandbeyond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=24908"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}