Memorial Day 2022

May 29, 2022

My Memorial Day Story

Thanks to all who have served. While it should be every day, I hope you realize many of us appreciate the meaning of today's celebration.

I understand our group is well known for "recycling" stories, so I apologize to those who have already heard this more than once. However, I find myself in a mood this Memorial Day Eve to add extra narrative and throw in a few pictures to a day I will never forget.

Saturday May 30, 1964, when Memorial Day was celebrated on the 30th regardless of the day of the week. My uncle Russell convinces the family we should run up to St. Louis and take in the 1:30 Cardinal game. Two weeks shy of my 8th birthday, I am in complete shock. I am going to my first Cardinal game. Eight of us (me, mom, my brother, uncle Russell, 2 aunts, a cousin, and my grandma) pile into a 60 or 61 Impala and head to St. Louis. Still remember the smell of the city, especially all the Greyhound buses surrounding the park.

My family walking outside the ballpark. My mom and I were cut out of the picture. Notice my little cousin brought his gun and holster, just in case.

Here is my brother and I trying to get autographs (me in the well-fitting helmet). If you expand the picture, you can see Curt Flood 21, Dick Groat 24, and newly elected Cardinal Hall-of-Famer Julian Javier 25, in the batting cage. The white-haired gentleman in the suit is Hall-of-Famer Dizzy Dean, there to do baseball's Saturday Game of the Week on TV.

Ken Boyer homered in the first and later tripled. We saw Pete Rose get 1 of his 4,256 career hits. Hall of Famer Frank Robinson also had a hit. The Cardinals beat the Reds 7-1 behind the pitching of Ernie Broglio, who in 10 days would be traded for some guy named Lou Brock. The entire spectacle, seeing the players up close, the souvenirs, the field itself, 11,000 other people cheering, turned me into an absolute baseball fanatic with a capital F. Here is headline and box score from the Post-Dispatch.

This had to be the best, most memorable day of my 8 short years.

As Paul Harvey used to say, "Here is the rest of the story".

Regular readers know I like to use movie quotes when I can, so today's is from "City Slickers".

The main characters were revealing their 'Best Day' and their 'Worst Day'. One said his best day was when after his father once again beat up his mother, he was old enough and big enough to whip his dad and throw him out of the house. Stunned, the others asked, "If that was the best, what was the worst"? His answer: "Same Day". There is a hint of that in my day.

As great as the pre-game activities were, I was ready for the start of the game. We stood for the National Anthem. At the completion of the song, the announcer stated: "On this Memorial Day, we honor those who gave their lives for their country". A bugler played Taps. About halfway through, I turned and saw my mother with her hands covering her face crying uncontrollably.

My father joined the Navy at age 17 in 1943. He served in the Pacific through the end of WWII. He remained in service, joining the Marines to serve in Korea. Surviving that, he stayed in service after that conflict ended. On July 8, 1957, stationed in Hawaii and on a routine training mission, he and the pilot were both killed when their plane went down just off the coast of Oahu. One month after my first birthday.

I don't remember the moment someone told me my father had died. I just remember knowing it as I grew up. It was never discussed, and I guess I was too young to be curious about it. This day was the first time I had seen my mom show any emotion in this regard. She assured me she was fine, and being young and stupid, I believed her and returned my focus to the game. Of course, as years passed I understood better the situation. It had been less than 7 years since his death on this Memorial Day, not the first time she had shown such emotion. Just the first time in front of me.

My small tribute to Richard Lee Bohn.

He took many pictures like this from WWII and Korea.