Third Sunday in May

A few weeks back was the 3rd Sunday in May.  To most of you, that’s a pretty abstract, though factual statement.  You could make that kind of statement about most any date.  But for many of us, the 3rd Sunday in May is not just any date.  Rather, it’s a date that may or may not be written on the calendar.  It doesn’t need to be.  For those with a heritage that includes Five Points (or Dempsey), Alabama, it is a date that is as ingrained in the minds as surely as those dates chiseled into the granite tombstones that grace the community cemetery across from James Chapel Baptist Church. 

Those tombstones mark the graves of those generations from this community who have gone to their final reward, but who will eternally dwell in the hearts and memories of those who still live in this community.  This is why we make the annual trek to James Chapel each year.  The 3rd Sunday in May is forever written in the hearts of those who were born there, those who grew up there, or those privileged enough to marry someone who was.

There’s a wonderful southern tradition referred to as “Decoration Day”.  If you grew up in the south, you know all about it.  It’s that day when fresh or artificial flowers are placed on the graves of loved ones at the cemetery at the local church.  Now, my late father-in-law, Delano Johnson, would argue that this was not a decoration. 

I don’t think he was opposed to decorating the graves.  Rather, he would tell you that it was an “all day singing, with dinner on the ground”.  And that’s what it was, and in a slightly modified form, still is.  The singing starts Sunday morning, usually followed by a brief sermon from the pastor, Brother Kenneth Bond.  Then there is a break for lunch.  And though that lunch has been moved from under the trees to an air-conditioned fellowship hall, none of the charm has been lost.  The food is amazing and the fellowship warm and abundant.  It’s an opportunity to see family, and old friends and classmates from as far back as the oldest person there can remember.

And, of course, after dinner, there is more singing.  To an outsider or someone not learned in the ways of decorations and all day singings, I guess it could seem a little odd.  To those of us who understand it, it’s something quite special.  It’s unique.  And unfortunately, it appears to be falling by the wayside.  It’s a combination of old convention songs, sacred hymns, Bill Gaither compositions and a variety of others, taken from one of a multitude of different songbooks.  The songs come from old hymnals, more current songbooks and the newly published convention songbooks that come out every year about this time.

The singers possess varying degrees of talent, but that doesn’t really matter.  Many are very gifted.  Many are just singing.  Many are part of a group of folks who make a circuit visiting various churches to participate in convention style singing.  These are salt of the earth folks who love to sing.  Entertaining is not the purpose of this singing.  Actually most of the singing is actually leading the congregation in song, although an occasional solo, duet or other group will contribute to the festivities.  The only instrumentation is a piano and an occasional guitar.  Much of the piano playing is handled by Uncle Joe, who is as good as they come.  Uncle Joe seems to play equally as well with or without a song book.  He plays truly from the heart.  And he’s as good as you’ll find.

And don’t get to comfortable in your seat.  It’s a pretty safe bet that Uncle Bob Johnson, who happens to be Uncle Joe’s brother, will call on you to come and lead a song, or two, or three.  And it becomes a matter of wills if you try to decline.  I have never won that battle of the wills and have stood before the congregation with friends and family members to lead in a song from either the red book or the blue book.

Either before, after, or during the singing, everyone eventually makes their way to the cemetery to look at the flowers, to reminisce or to visit with old friends and neighbors.  The pace is unhurried, the conversation special, and at times, the experience just a little surreal.  At least it seems more so as I get older.

It’s pretty common that after the singing breaks up mid afternoon, many family and friends will make their way to Tallulah’s for fellowship into the early evening hours and supper at some point.  Tallulah is my mother-in-law.  Her late husband, Delano always invited every living soul he saw to come to the house and visit.  He and Tallulah, have continued the tradition of gathering in the afternoon and early evening that was possibly started by Abe and Rilla Cooper who were Delano’s uncle and aunt, as well as Uncle Joe’s and Uncle Bob’s.  (Did I mention that Bob and Joe were brothers to Delano, who I wrote about in a blog last December?)  Uncle Abe and Aunt Rilla owned this same house during their life.  Obviously this tradition would be a hard one to stop and no one want it to.  It’s just understood that everyone who wants to will just mosey on up there, knowing there will be a good time of visiting and plenty to eat.

This year, the 3rd Sunday was a good one.  At least 4 generations of family and cousins and friends shared a time of socializing, reminiscing and getting better acquainted.  A few old stories brought smiles and laughter to those sitting on the front porch as well as those out in the yard.  That yard is special, by the way.  My own grandchildren played on the same spot where my wife and her cousins played “Bum, Bum, Here We Come” or “Red Rover” or other childhood games only a few short years back.  I was blessed to able to explain to my granddaughter who loves her cousins dearly, that her Granna and her cousins were just as close and played together (and got into mischief together) more than 50 years ago. That means something.  I can’t explain it, but if you’ve lived it, or been invited into it, you know what I mean.

I was one of the fortunate ones.  I married into this tradition and now claim it as my own.  I remember the early days of dating my wife and our first years of marriage.  I was not inclined to spend too much time at the all day singing.  I guess I thought I was too cool.  But today, it’s a part of who I am.  It does not in any way detract from my own heritage.  I still have fond childhood memories of the Spires Family’s decoration, at Isbell Chapel Baptist Church, which has fallen by the wayside.  And I love my family’s reunion in June just as much.  And the 3rd Sunday is another chapter in my life.  It only enhances it.  And as the years go by, I am reminded more and more of just how special it is. 

I think my kids understand it.  At least they seem to, and they look forward to it as much as my wife and I do.  Watching them visit with aunts, uncles and cousins (first, second and third, or is first cousins once removed, twice removed, thrice removed?) reminds me of simpler days and gives a picture of what will last and what is important.  I wish everyone could share that.

Sadly, each year, we miss folks who have been a part of this gathering in the past.  Some are passed on, and others can’t be with us because of failing health.  That’s the reality of life and one of the reasons these kinds of days are so special.  Jack and Jean from Missouri are fixtures every Third Sunday in May, but just couldn’t make it this time.  But we’re confident that they’ll be right back where they belong next year.  And occasionally, a familiar face shows up that we haven’t seen in quite a while.  So, while the crowds may be a bit smaller than they were a couple of decades back, the atmosphere is still the same.

A the end of the day, as the sun begins to set and the crowd begins to disperse, we climb into our cars and trucks and head back to our individual homes.  We’re tired in a good way.  And we reflect and will reflect for the next few days on how blessed we are to have an abundance of memories.  I believe that good memories are one of the greatest examples of God’s grace.  They allow us to live in the present, to better understand the present, but to look back on the days of the past, many good, some bad and realize how much we have for which we should be thankful.

I hope your life has a solid heritage and foundation that you are continuing to build upon.  I hope you have many family members and friends who you can think about fondly and who have left you with an abundance of good memories.  If not, I hope you’re establishing that legacy and creating some memories, so that two or three generations down the road, those memories will bring joy to those who follow.  I hope you’ll be a part of someone’s happy memories, somber recollections, or funny stories.  I hope you can bring both laughter and a tear to those who follow after.