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Chip Brown.

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Memorial Day in Tennessee

(This is a reprint of an earlier article I wrote for a publication. We had several requests for copies, but we couldn't find it. Thanks to one of our loyal readers here it is. -Chip)

Now I understand that Memorial Day is set aside to remember our dead. That's the way it has been for ages. Personally I don't understand why it's called Memorial Day instead of dead day though. I guess it was named by the florists. I guess I feel more like buying flowers for Memorial Day than something called Dead Day.

But here in Tennessee we have other traditions that govern what we do on this holiday. Nope, here in Tennessee we honor our dead by trying to join them. We get out the charcoal grill and load it in the back of our 70's model Suburban and off to the lake we go. Only one stop to make and that's the local convenience store. With our thirty two pack of beer, we're set for the lake.

Upon returning to the truck with our beer we realize we forgot the boat. So we contemplate our options. We sit and ponder, should we go and get the boat or try to walk on water again? All the time we ponder, we drink a few beers from our 32 pack. After three beers in the parking lot, walking on water seems more feasible but good sense prevails. We go back after the boat.

Back at the house we hook up the boat trailer. Then the kids inform us they have to go to the bathroom. So we sit down on the tongue of the trailer and have a couple more beers. When the kids get back we stand, to get in the Suburban. Without a doubt, we will rip our pants on that trailer and give it a good swift kick. Then we hobble back to the drivers seat, pausing long enough to toss our beer can in the yard.

About a mile down the road someone will say "They lookey there!" as all in the Suburban watch our boat pass us. It's about this time we realize that when we ripped our pants we unlatched the trailer. So we speed up! It's a rule that when anything tries to pass us on Tennessee roads we speed up. So for about three hundred yards it's a race between Suburban and boat trailer. Eventually though the boat trailer will give up and go down over the bank.

Now at this time we're confused. We are quite proud that once again we thwarted something from passing us, but on the other hand, we wonder how to get the boat out of the hollow. We sit down and drink a couple more beers and think about this situation. Eventually we ask the kids what they think we should do. We take their advice and take a whiz on the side of the road.

But that don't get the boat out of the hollow. So eventually we tie a rope around one of our younguns' and lower them down the bank. We instruct them to tie the rope around the trailer and sit in the boat while we pull it up with the Suburban. We ease the Suburban forward ever slow slightly easing out on the clutch. Then there is the crash, which scares us and our foot slips from the clutch. We drive our Suburban across the road, up the bank and into a tree.

We get out and inspect the damage made to the front of our truck by the tree. Next we realize our mistake and lower the second kid down the bank. This time we use the one that ties her own shoes. Yep, that's where we went wrong with that first youngin', no more velcro shoes!

Finally we have the boat back so we celebrate by having another beer before we leave. Now that we're on our way we meet all the people coming back from the lake. They all blow their horns in a friendly gesture as if to say "We know what you're going through". Our wives say it's because we're on the wrong side of the road. Shows what she knows, we're driving in the middle lane.

Once at the lake we launch the boat and truck. We yell at the youngest one what pedals to push, to bring our truck back to shore. We stress the urgency as that our beer is going to get wet.

Once in the boat we race up and down the lake as fast as we can, drinking the remainder of our beer. It takes us an hour but we find that symbol. The Holy Grail of the Memorial Day boat ride! The only willow tree standing in the lake. We of course center it with our boat. Now we retrieve our young from the lake and return to the Suburban, where it begins to rain.

Not to be disturbed by a little rain we accurately measure and realize that there is ample room to fire the charcoal grill in the back of the Suburban. With a poof the charcoal flares up and we are on our way! Before long we will invariably have to roll the Suburban into the lake. Thereby sacrificing the burnt back of the truck for the flooded front.

Luckily, we have another year to prepare for the next Memorial Day.

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