Memorial Day

Written in 2022, this was one of my first story plus video joints. I think the video is rather naive. But the story holds and I rely less upon stock footage with current works. What do you think?

Memorial Day

May of 1989 was a time of celebration for my tribe of punks, hippies and other cosmic anomalies.

First husband, Gary and I had married 2 months prior.

Our dearest friends and their family had recently moved to the Easter Sierras.

And we all had a long weekend.

There had been talk about driving up to Lake Tahoe since our friends had never been. I reminisced Tahoe’s significance in my life. My parents honeymooned there. Which would lead to my conception. Many family vacations were there. It occurred to me that I had finally figured out where to put my mother’s ashes.

I had been in possession of her ashes for a few years. My step-dad and siblings didn’t know what to do with them. So i kept her box in a small linen closet next to towels and tampons.

Now our road trip now had a purpose and reason to celebrate.

On Friday we packed up the camper van and made the schlepp from Long Beach to Bishop. On Saturday, we caravanned from Bishop to the Desolation Wilderness Campground in South Lake Tahoe. We would place Carol’s ashes in Emerald Bay.

There was a caveat. At that time, it was a no-no to put human ashes in a land-locked body of water. The laws since have changed.

It turned out, from where we were, there was no easy way to get down to the lake. But we were close to Eagle Falls and there were several rivulets and creeks running down into the lake. Along with the snow melt, we figured my mom would have a nice trip into Emerald Bay.

We parked at a lookout of the bay with its wee castle island. And then trekked down away from the road where we would release Carol. Our friend Savita surprised us with fresh gardenias from a florist in Bishop where she lived. It was an amazing synchronicity. Gardenias were my mother’s favorite flower.

Some incense and sage were lit. I walked to the edge of the creek and proceeded to unpack my mother’s ashes. I remember the breeze having a cool alpine bite that only happens between the warm and cold seasons. Keep a sweater handy. Take it off in the sun.

I poured my mother into the creek. The kids and their parents, our friends, put the gardenias in with the ashes. We watched the clouds of grey billow and then twist into spiral filaments. The current carrying Carol and her gardenias into the bay.

We walked back up to the parking lot.

Savita looked at her watch and said, “Twelve noon.”