Memorial Day Musings

[Ron Citerone]

Memorial Day means many things to many people. While I don’t dwell on it, the day never slips by without at least remembering what it meant to my Mother. Her brother, my Uncle Gerri, gave his life serving in WWII. She kept a picture on the wall of him in uniform her entire life until she went to assisted living and took the picture to her apartment there. She told the story of the day in 1943 when the black limousine pulled up at her childhood home and two soldiers gave my Grandfather the news. She said he was never the same. Ironically, my Uncle was killed in Anzio Italy, the country of my Grandparent’s birth. In a conversation I had with her she told me my Grandfather died of a broken heart from losing his son.
When my Mother passed, my Brother found letters from Uncle Gerri to his family. The last one was dated the day before his death. He had to stop writing because “Mortar shells were coming over the farmhouse his outfit was sheltered in.” So many years ago. Memorial day means many things to many people.

[Brian Holcombe]

My grandfather served, I think of him mainly but we go out to visit a family gravesite where my ancestors are buried. They fought for the revolution in Lambertville alongside the Lambert and Coryell families. Most of those in this cemetery survived the fight and went on to live long lives. They must have made inseparable bonds as they are laid to rest alongside their fellow soldiers in this small church cemetery.