It's Memorial Day 2012 and my mother Xylia Couch is still dead.  My mother did not serve in the United States Armed Forces, but while she was the wife of Stormy Tinker, she no doubt supported the cold war effort.  When Stormy went to Vietnam, Xylia kept the home fires burning.  It's hard to remember how many Uncles I had back then.  Let's just say I had less of them when Stormy got back from overseas.

     Xylia Couch also retired from the Army & Air Force exchange services after a long and supportive career.  So I will still honor her memory this day, despite its rightfully sanctioned observance for those men and women who died while serving in the United States Armed Forces.   She and Stormy Tinker certainly motivated myself and my siblings to serve our country.  All of us did, or still do.  Luckily none of us have died doing it, yet.  Stormy was an Air Policeman with the United States Air Force and went to Vietnam but he didn't die.  Or maybe some part of him did, because he came back different.  That I do remember.

     Brother Church carries some physical and mental scars from his exemplary service in Iraq with the U.S. Army Reserves.  Sister Palmettia survived a cancer which may or may not have been caused by exposure to carcinogens while serving her country in the United States Air Force.  Sister Grace has a little diabetes now and a whole lot of very funny stories from her stint in the United States Air Force.  I retired from the United States Air Force after a colorful courts martial then a long fought and hard won appeal.  No scars though.

     Did you notice that Brother Church is the black sheep of the family?  As the youngest he was the most spoiled, next to Sister Grace.  He always had to do things his way which usually meant different.  Like using a summer vacation at 17 years old to join the U.S. Army Reserves.  Since he and his family are probably the most negatively affected by the "Tinker" military career track, I think it only right to give them all a long, slow, salute.  (I did it, honest I did.)

     Since Memorial Day is about "remembering" I find myself trying to.  My earliest memories of my mother Xylia Couch are of her bright red lipstick and strong perfume.  She would drop me, my Brother Church and Sister Palmettia off at a babysitter on her way to work or wherever.  Sometimes the babysitters were fun.  Sometimes they were evil.  It's hard to remember on Memorial Day.  It's hard to remember any day sometimes.  But that's because I've always been too heartless to pay attention to the details.  I only remember things in the broad strokes of how they affected ME.

     Since I'm self-centered and heartless I would probably have neglected to travel to any cemetery where my mother might have been interred.  It is quite fortuitous for me then that her ashes are still in that plastic bag sealed with a silver metal tag #3117 in the decorative box sitting nearby on the powered reclining chair Sister Palmettia bought for her.  I can just turn in this computer chair that used to be hers and wish her a Happy Memorial Day.  But she can't hear me because she's dead.

     And I remember all the times I should have called her or written her or took the time to at least let her know that I was thinking of her.  But I've always been too heartless in a way that makes me ignore the ones I love and the few who love me.  She was one of the few who loved me I'm certain of that and since I'm so selfish it does pain me to know that number is dwindling.  It was reduced by one on 15 November 2011 which was the day Xylia Couch was carried away on that sweet chariot.

     It's Memorial Day 2012 and my mother Xylia Couch is still dead.  Long live Xylia Couch!