Memorial Day: In Memory

by Jane Stahl 

For many, Memorial Day means the start of summer, pool openings, barbecues with family and friends, a long weekend, and the approaching end of another school year.

We are reminded, however, that we owe many brave soldiers a debt of gratitude for their ultimate sacrifice, a sacrifice that allows us the freedom and fun we enjoy on this holiday. Freedom is not free, as they say, and Memorial Day is the day each year dedicated to reminding us.

For me, I have a lifetime of memories of Memorial Day celebrations. Perhaps the first memory is of the annual parade. As a young girl, my friends and I rode our bicycles in the parade. I recall decorating the handle bars with red, white, and blue streamers and weaving red, white, and blue crepe paper in the spokes of the wheels.

Left to right: Cousin Margie, friend Donna, yours truly, brother Jim. Front left to right: neighbor Johnny, cousin Billy. Photo from 1958

Volunteer extraordinaire Elmira Mauger sold fabric poppies every year for a donation to the American Legion, and my mother always made sure we had $1 to donate. 

Elmira Mauger, the Poppy Lady

The parade route ended just beyond my family home at the cemetery where the annual solemn ceremony of remembrance took place with speeches from dignitaries and veterans and a gun salute to honor those who had died in service.

The ceremony ended with the playing of “Taps” in round robin style from three different heights along the cemetery’s steep hill with the best-of-the-year high school trumpet player offering the final note. And, as that solemn note faded, we could hear the plane overhead as it dropped poppies for us to place on the veterans’ graves.

In later years, I remember sitting on the curb in front of my home with my own family, waving to the mayor who always waved back; saluting the veterans of the local American Legion, in uniform; clapping for the group of young twirlers (which for a few years included my daughter) in uniform; and hoping the bands—especially the Alumni Band--would perform their signature tune as they passed our house.

Top: Amy, Paul, and Jeff Stahl wait for the parade. Second: Mayor Lori Carnes and escort offer smiles to parade watchers. Third: Amy in uniform. Bottom: Boyertown High School's Marching Band in 1958.

Amy Stahl in uniform. 

Boyertown High School Marching Band. 1958

My extended family and friends gathered on our porch waiting for the parade to arrive. Friends, whom I didn't see from one Memorial Day to the next, stopped by on their way to the ceremony to say “Hi!” and catch up.

Family and friends gather to watch the parade years ago. 

What I remember most fondly from these years was the Breakfast Brunch my parents offered the dozens of our friends and family members in my father’s basement recreation room after the parade and ceremony concluded and after those who attended were well on their way home or to afternoon picnics.

My father was the cook. He prepared bacon, sausage, and scrapple for that annual brunch days ahead of time. A short order cook in his younger days, he offered eggs to everyone —any style they preferred. My mother ordered dozens of doughnuts from the local bakery weeks in advance and made sure there was plenty of coffee to go with them along with milk (half 'n half for this special day)  and assorted creamers, sweeteners, juices, and cut fruit. They exhausted themselves in the process, but friends and family members alive today still remember those brunches and the camaraderie the day inspired.

An incongruent tradition that surfaced in my parents' later years was a trip to Atlantic City after brunch was over so that my aunt could play the slots!  At the end of the day, we were all totally exhausted.

The first to arrive,  Aunt Eleanor looks forward to the afternoon trip "to the coast" and the entertainment there. .

It took days for my parents to recover from their part in the day's event, and they both decided each year that it was the last brunch they were hosting. Happily, by the time May came around again,  they always reconsidered, and the rest of us were always grateful.

And so, look for me this morning—May 26, 2025--you’ll find me and my family—including Ginger, the family dog—sitting on the porch or the curb, waiting for the parade, remembering family, friends, and the family tradition that the ultimate sacrifices of men and women before us have allowed us to enjoy. 

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