{"id":3960,"date":"2012-05-28T07:00:20","date_gmt":"2012-05-28T12:00:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/?p=3960"},"modified":"2012-05-27T20:26:53","modified_gmt":"2012-05-28T01:26:53","slug":"you-have-to-stop-somewhere","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/you-have-to-stop-somewhere\/","title":{"rendered":"You Have to Stop Somewhere"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/05\/Roy.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-3961\" title=\"Roy\" src=\"http:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/05\/Roy-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/05\/Roy-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/05\/Roy-449x300.jpg 449w, https:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/05\/Roy.jpg 640w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">Camp Dorothy opened for business on Sunday which means Mom and I are painting the town red. We&#8217;re having so much fun, what with hot Uno games, Judge Judy and Wheel of Fortune, drives around town, reading library books, and decorating family graves, time is short for blogging. So today&#8217;s post is something I wrote after a Memorial Day several years ago, when Mom still lived in her own home. Every time I read it, it makes me smile.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong>You Have To Stop Somewhere<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">Hats pulled down and coats buttoned up, gloves hard at work my mother, sister and I shivered all the way to from where we live in Boone to my father\u2019s hometown of Nevada.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMore like March than May 12,\u201d Mom commented as we pulled into the grand, old cemetery, its lush grass surrounded by stone walls. The huge shade trees creaked and swayed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a blessing that Gladys and Ginny aren\u2019t here,\u201d Mom added. \u201cThis wind would have blown them away.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>My sister and I knew it was true, but we missed our ancient great-aunts. Gladys and Ginny, ages 102 and 96 respectively died last year within months of one another. For decades, the responsibility of decorating the family graves had rested on their thin, stooping shoulders and they bore the weight well. My mother often drove to Nevada on a warm May day, tucking the tiny great-aunts in her car amidst the boxes of artificial flowers.<br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019ll decorate and then go to Dairy Queen for a treat,\u201d my mother, Dorothy, promised.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLet\u2019s go to Mama and Papa\u2019s graves first.\u201d Love saturated Gladys\u2019s high, cracking voice. \u201cMama made the best bread.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe very best. She was such a good mama,\u201d Ginny agreed, the memory of her parents dead now for eighty years, fresh upon her face.<\/p>\n<p>Mom eased them out of the car. \u201cNext, let\u2019s do Grandma and Grandpa\u2019s,\u201d Ginny suggested.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGrandpa was in the Civil War, Dorothy, did you know that?\u201d Gladys asked my mother.<br \/>\n\u201cHe was such a nice man. He always had time for us,\u201d Ginny added. \u201cOh, Gladys, don\u2019t forget Aunt Lettie. She died so young, such a tragedy.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>As kids we heard of Lettie\u2019s early end whenever we held sharp objects. \u201cShe was running with scissors and stabbed herself in the eye. Then she developed an eye infection and died.\u201d I always walked when carrying scissors.<\/p>\n<p>Slowly they moved from grave to grave. All three decorated their husbands\u2019 graves. Then, Gladys paused at her infant son\u2019s headstone, and Ginny where her soldier son, one of the first killed in the Korean War, lay beneath his veteran\u2019s marker. They stopped to visit my grandparents and mourn again the early loss of their sister, my Grandmother Fern, after her long battle with colon cancer.\u00a0 They tucked flowers around the headstones of brothers Guy and Lee and Lee\u2019s wife Stena. At one final stop, they left a bouquet for their oldest brother, Willie, who left farming because of a nervous condition. \u201cHe was so nervous he couldn\u2019t keep the rows straight when he plowed,\u201d Ginny explained.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo he became a barber instead,\u201d Gladys added. \u201cWe\u2019re ready for Dairy Queen now.\u201d They hobbled toward the car.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat about Roy?\u201d Mom pointed to the resting place of their other brother Roy. He died in the swine flu epidemic of 1918 before he could take over the farm after Papa passed on and left the sainted Mama with young daughters to raise. Roy\u2019s death forced the aunts, orphaned teenagers, off the farm and into the homes of relatives.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHmmph.\u201d Ginny sniffed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ve got to stop somewhere,\u201d Gladys announced, and the sisters continued their feeble march to the car.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWill we decorate Roy\u2019s grave?\u201d I asked my sister as we headed toward the family plot.<br \/>\n\u201cOf course we will. It\u2019s time to let go of old grudges, don\u2019t ya think?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>We stopped in front of his grave and helped our mother out of the car into the wind and cold of our May morning. We planted silk flowers in front of his headstone, maybe a few extra to wipe out any former neglect. \u201cWe forgive you, Roy,\u201d my sister said.<\/p>\n<p>We decorated every family grave we could find and lingered at Gladys and Ginny\u2019s. Clear as a bell, I heard a high, cracking voice, \u201cJolene, you have to stop somewhere.\u201d Tears filled my eyes, and I smiled with joy and sadness. \u201cNot yet, Aunt Gladys, not quite yet.\u201d I replied as the cold May wind settled the comfortable weight of their family memories upon our shoulders. \u201cSee you again, next year,\u201d I whispered and walked slowly to the car<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Camp Dorothy opened for business on Sunday which means Mom and I are painting the town red. We&#8217;re having so much fun, what with hot Uno games, Judge Judy and Wheel of Fortune, drives around town, reading library books, and decorating family graves, time is short for blogging. So today&#8217;s post is something I wrote [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[1637,250,1635,793,818,1636,1634],"class_list":["post-3960","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-family","tag-camp-dorothy","tag-civil-war","tag-judge-judy","tag-memorial-day","tag-mom","tag-swine-flu","tag-wheel-of-fortune"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v25.8 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>You Have to Stop Somewhere - Jolene Philo Staging<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"You Have to Stop Somewhere - Jolene Philo Staging\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Camp Dorothy opened for business on Sunday which means Mom and I are painting the town red. 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