It was a perfect spot for Gene. He was downwind and could smell the food as each basket was uncovered. First the potato salad…good and tart, bread and butter pickles, olives, hot fresh corn on the cob. And then…oh, here it comes. Just as the white towel was lifted, a gentle breeze caught the familiar aroma of his mother’s golden fried chicken, and, what’s that? Oh, Aunt Elner’s fresh buttermilk biscuits. Someone was buttering one right now. Then he heard a jar of Aunt Elner’s fig preserves pop open.
He was happy to see the family seeming more talkative. For the first two or three years, they had been so quiet. But this time, they weren’t, and he was enjoying listening to them. He found out that Tot Whooten had thrown her husband, James, out of the house again, and his aunt Ida, Norma’s mother, was in St. Louis at one of her many garden club conventions. And according to Elner, she was still busy putting on airs, which made him smile. Nothing much changes.
After the meal was over, Aunt Elner stood up and poured out what was left of the iced tea close to his feet, and he laughed as the cold liquid cooled the ground. Had he really felt it? Or had he just imagined it? Oh, well, it didn’t matter; it felt good. After they had cleared off the blanket, and his father had folded it back up, Gene heard the trunk open and close again. That was always a signal they were getting ready to leave. He hated to see them go, but the sun was about to go down, and he knew the mosquitos were bad at this time of day, and they should get Dena on home. It was probably a long day for such a little girl.
After they all got back in the car, they waited as they did every year, as his father made the solitary trek back to his son’s grave, removed his hat, stood perfectly still, then saluted his son. As Gene heard the car turn around and drive away, he called out, “Goodbye, everybody. Don’t forget me.”
At sundown, a group from the VFW came out, and Bobby Smith, a Boy Scout, played taps as they lowered the flag. Later, after everyone had driven away, the cemetery was quiet again. The fireflies had just started to twinkle, and a half moon was beginning to show itself, when Mr. Hendersen, who had said nothing all day, commented, “Hey, Marine, your old man’s getting a little fat.”
Gene smiled. “He’s getting a belly, all right.” Gene figured that, had he lived to be his dad’s age, he probably would have looked a lot like him, and that was fine with him. Mrs. Lindquist called over, “Gene, I swear, Gerta and Elner look the same as they did the day I died, still just as chubby and cute.”
Mary Childress said, “All the Knott girls are heavyset, except for Ida, and she starves herself.”
After a moment, his grandfather called over to Gene. “It was good to see everybody looking so well today, wasn’t it, son?”
“Yes, sir, it was.”
Lucille said, “All in all, I think it was just a lovely day.”
Macky Warren and Norma had been dating each other since high school. He had never even looked at another girl. But as he walked home from Norma’s house that Memorial Day night, a question kept going back and forth in his mind. Should he and Norma get married now or wait? She wanted to. So did he. But somehow, going out to the cemetery that day with the Nordstroms had started him thinking. Even though he had been the one who had delivered the telegram about Gene four years ago, it was still hard to believe that Gene Nordstrom was really dead.
Gene had been a boyhood hero of his and of most of the other boys in town. They had all wanted to grow up and be just like him: play baseball, basketball, and football; be a lifeguard at the pool, just like Gene had.
And it wasn’t just the boys who idolized him. All the girls in town hung around the pool all day, staring at him and giggling whenever he said hello, but Gene seemed oblivious to the fact that everybody had a crush on him. The last time Macky had seen him was at the bus station, the day everybody had gone down to see the boys off. That day, Gene had been so alive, so bigger than life. Now all that was left was a photograph in the bakery window.
Gene’s death had greatly affected Macky and the other boys his age. Before that, they had all felt so safe and secure. But Gene Nordstrom being killed in the war had changed all that. In the movies, it was always the bad guys that got killed, and the good guys lived happily forever. Gene’s death had forced them to face the reality of life. If something like that could happen to Gene Nordstrom, then you could never really be sure of anything ever again.
Life was so unpredictable, and death was so damn final. You didn’t get a second chance. This was it. You had to make the most of your life right now.
If he got married now, what would he miss out on? He might wind up like his father, never going anywhere but to work and then home again with a one-week vacation to the same place every year. It was tough to be grown up, to make decisions that would change your life forever. It didn’t seem fair that he got only one life. He needed three or four to do all the things he wanted to do: play professional football, go fly-fishing in Alaska, take a year and follow the sun to Australia. He dreamed of a year of two summers. He had even worked at his dad’s hardware store after school and saved money for the trip. But if he married Norma now, he would have to use that money for a down payment on a house. He loved Norma, but she was never going to be adventurous and go places with him. She was too nervous to travel too far from home.
But, on the other hand, if he didn’t marry Norma, what would he miss out on then? What if Norma married someone else? In the coming months, Macky would change his mind about getting married a hundred more times.
That night up at Still Meadows was the last time Gene ever spoke to his grandfather. The next morning, Lordor was gone. It was quite a shock for everyone. Lordor had been there from the very beginning. The news spread throughout Still Meadows, and there were the usual questions. Where did he go? Would he come back? The same old questions their loved ones had asked about them when they died were now being asked up at Still Meadows…questions that nobody had the answer to.
1950
That July, the sun seemed to know exactly what day it was. Eager and excited to get an early start, it couldn’t wait a moment longer and quickly burned through the morning mist and flooded the town with bright clear light. “Get up, everyone, lots to do, fun to be had!”
Up on the hill, Lucille Beemer said, “Good morning, everybody.” Two hundred and three people just waking up answered, “Morning,” or something similar. Mr. Hendersen just grunted. It was his idea of a reply, and he only did that because, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t help but join the human race today.
Today was the Fourth of July, and there were to be big doings all day and fireworks tonight. As old as he was, he still had his childhood July Fourth memories of red, white, and blue, firecrackers, sparklers, whirligigs, watermelons, footraces, parades, and ice cream.
Later that morning, they could smell the hot dogs being grilled over on the outdoor VFW grill. Gene Nordstrom said, “I could eat about ten of those right now.”