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May 29, 2021Liked by Elizabeth Marro

Memorial Day was a big holiday when I was a kid. I helped Grandma make dozens of crepe paper flowers (my job was cutting leaves and wrapping stems) which she dipped in parrafin so they'd last a bit in the weather. The extended family gathered at the family cemetery on the day. Everyone brought food. The men and boys mowed, scythed, and cleaned up the graveyard. The women and girls arranged the flowers in fruit jars, and placed a bouquet at every grave. Then we had a picnic of fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, and so many pies.

The only family member left from that bunch besides me is my sister.

Albert and Helen Taylor Brown McCorkle and their children John Patrick and Howard Allen; my mother's two babies who died at birth (before she married my dad): Margaret Sue and Helen Rosalie Brown.

Maggie Lawson and Clifford Lawson, my grandparents.

Virgil Taylor, my grandfather.

Aunt Mame and Uncle Roy.

Inez Lawson Yokum, my step-aunt.

Emma Bailey McCorkle, my grandmother.

My uncles John and Robert and my aunts Annie and Eunice (all McCorkles)

My first cousin Ruth, who died at age 40.

My nephew Kent Caudell.

My first best friend, Janet.

My friend, Ginny, the poet.

My first husband, Ronnie.

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What memories each of those names must summon. Thank you for sharing them.

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