Memorial Day

When I was growing up, Memorial Day was a big deal in my northern Wisconsin small town.  There was a parade with the local high school band playing a variety of patriotic marches and flag-carrying veterans from both world wars — only a few of them from the “Great War” — marching through town and to the highway bridge that spanned the river.  Poems were read, more patriotic songs were played, speeches were given.  There was a large white cross that had been placed, floating in the middle of the river — and as we all stood and watched, a small plane swooped down over the crowd of onlookers.  It came in as low as possible and a person inside the plane leaned way out and dropped a large wreath of flowers on the center of the cross in the river.  I suspect something like that would never pass crowd safety standards today but it was pretty darn cool to see.