Memorial Day weekend and the rhododendrons and peonies are in full bloom. I always thought of peonies as the Las Vegas showgirls of the flower world. Big lucious blooms straining the slender stem, rich with color, yet crawling with ants. Not that Las Vegas showgirls are crawling with ants, but ya never know.
Mr. Mullins, the man who sold us the Big House back in 1966, grew peonies semi-commercially on the grounds there. He had a massive garden of them that took more maintenance than necessary. Pop dug up two dozen of them and transplanted them closer to the house. The rest of the garden was eventually overrun by pea vines and served as the out of bounds line for our makeshift football field. The southeast corner of the peony bed was third base for our baseball diamond.
On Memorial Day weekend Mr. Mullins would cut hundreds of blooms for sale to local flower shops and eventually as decorations in local cemeteries. They used to call Memorial Day Decoration Day and Mr. Mullins' peonies served well as decorations
But peonies are not the point of this holiday. We are obliged to mark the day for its intended purpose. And that obligation is one welcome to every freedom loving American. It is a solemn obligation. We must honor the sacrifice and service of those who have given what Lincoln called the last full measure of their devotion. We could not be the Americans we are today without the service of those brave men and women, the best we could offer up from our society.
Thank you all, and may God bless you and our nation.