We Went to Price

When I was a kid, a day trip to Price was unfathomable. When we went, we went to stay. Of course, it was like going to our home away from home, and we never liked leaving Grandma Jessie's. Now, the trip to Price is more of an annual trek, usually on Memorial Day weekend. We carry on the tradition that Grandma introduced us to, visiting the graves of our ancestors, decorating them with flowers and telling their stories to our kids.

Memorial Days were often windy (this one = windy). They smelled of carnations, and we'd fill the VW bug - or later the trunk of the Oldsmobile - with buckets of flowers, trimmers, wire hangers (to use as stakes in order to secure our pots), a hand-brush to tidy up the stones, and Grandma would tie a scarf around her head to protect her ears from the wind.

Jessie Ann, my Grandma and my (middle) namesake. One of Jemma's middle names is Jessie, after her. Uncle Jon, whom I always felt like I knew, but I never met. He was killed in a motorcycle accident in 1968, when he was 22 years old. Jessie Lynn - my dad's baby sister who only lived a few days. Lawrence and Mary Jane - my great-grandparents. My dad called them Papa and Gypsy and I know all sorts of great things about them, even though I never met them either.

Grandma's house is now a Verizon store. It looks nothing, inside or out, like it did when she lived there. We stopped in - to look at phones and have a peek around.

A few things remain intact - like the doors and door handles. It was altogether weird to be checking out a display of iPhones in what used to be my grandma's dining room. Unreal.

Down in the cellar, there were a few remnants from our family, including this old radio and cabinet where my dad had practiced his pinstriping.

We chatted with the girl working there, who was obviously wondering about our keen interest in the place. She asked if anyone had ever died there, and no, no one ever died in that house, even though four generations of the same family had lived there. She said they feel a presence there sometimes at night. Toward the back, in the kitchen.

We don't always take the time, when we're there for the purpose of visiting the cemetery, to do anything else, but this time we drove down Main Street, and stopped in at JC Penney, just out of sheer curiosity. It was like going back in time. I was surprised at how much hasn't changed. Of course, the inventory was updated - we even bought a few things. I never shop at JC Penney, but I felt like we should support that old place and give them some business.

I took snapshots of some of the landmarks from the drive, like this coal mine, but it's hard to evoke the feeling of what it's really like and how this place was the hopeful sign of, "We're almost there!" on the way and marked the beginning of the canyon on the way home. I always loved it most at night because of all the lights.

It's one thing to miss places, but it's another thing entirely to miss people. So many people I love are now gone. People who were the center of my life, for most of my life. Soon it'll no longer be *most* of my life.

We still enjoy this holiday weekend with hopes for warm weather and BBQs and celebrating Chris's birthday (this year it's on Memorial Day), but I'm also glad that we have the tradition of remembering and honoring our family...and passing the experience on to our kids, so they'll have some connection with those who paved the way for us and are no longer here.