You don’t need clowns on Memorial Day.

You don’t need bands, floats and cheerleaders.

I don’t even think you need a parade.

There’s not a lot to cheer about.

It’s not that kind of day.

Quick history lesson.

Originally called Decoration Day, what we now call Memorial Day is an observance that began in 1868 by recognizing the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers. Americans from the North and South would decorate the graves of soldiers who died in the Civil War.

After World War I, the holiday was broadened to include service members who died in all of the country’s wars. New York was the first state to recognize the holiday.

That’s what you find in textbooks.  

What the holiday has become is a day off from school, a day off from work and the chance for merchants to push deck furniture, mattresses and pool floats.

Look, if the weather’s nice, I’ll grill. Mow the grass. Maybe watch a ballgame. Treat myself to some ice cream. Enjoy the time off.

But I won’t stage a party.

And I won’t forget why I’m off.

That’s where some well-meaning townsfolk get a bit overzealous in planning pomp on this national holiday.

For some reason, it’s not enough for them to ask others to remember, observe and pay tribute.

Everyone loves a parade.

Veterans I talk to say they love marching on Veterans Day. Strike up the band. Bring out the big fire trucks. Honor the soldiers.

But on Memorial Day, they say to take it down a notch.

A wreath-laying ceremony at a veteran’s memorial is a fine tribute. I plan to visit the Sullivan County Veterans Cemetery in Liberty to say hi to my dad, who served in the Army during the Korean War.

“It’s supposed to be solemn –  where we honor the memories of men and women who died for their country,” is what Jack Simons told me years ago. Jack died in 2006, but there hasn’t been a Memorial Day since then that I don’t think about his words to me. “We celebrate on the Fourth of July. We pay tribute on Memorial Day.”

Simons received the Purple Heart and combat infantry medal after he was shot several times near the end of his two-year tour in Korea.

In the 1980s, he led a VFW protest of a planned parade down Broadway to Monticello Raceway.

“They were talking clowns and balloons and a carnival at the track. We told the mayor, ‘This isn’t a day for chicken barbecues.’”

He got the celebration canceled, but decades later, the thought of folks munching and marching still stuck in his craw. “How can you have a festival for people who died?”

Where I live, there is no Memorial Day or Veterans Day Parade.

On the last Monday in May and again at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month, folks gather at the Rural Cemetery on Route 55 in Grahamsville for a flag exchange program.

It’s a simple but poignant ceremony.

A local family donates an American flag in memory of a loved one who had served their country. Their flag is hoisted in exchange for the flag from another family that also had a loved one in the service.

There’s an hour guard of local veterans. Boy Scouts raise and lower the flags and present them back to the family. “Taps” is played. There’s not a dry eye.

Years ago, a teacher at Tri-Valley invited more than a dozen middle school students to attend the ceremony. It was a way to remind them why they didn’t have school. Most knew it was Memorial Day.

Sher asked them, “And what is Memorial Day?”

A few hands were raised.

“To honor the soldiers who died.”

No one mentioned a parade. 

Barry Lewis is a longtime journalist and author who lives with his wife Bonnie in the Town of Neversink. He can be reached at      barrylewisscdemocrat@gmail.com.