by Greg Koelker
Memorial Day weekend 2026 is upon us. Early this morning, Bo and I hung out the American flag. We watched Youtube for Stephen Colbert’s last Late Show show on CBS. Bryan Cranston, Paul Rudd, Tig Nataro, Ryan Reynolds, Pope Leo – sort of, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Jon Stewart, John Oliver, Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, Seth Meyers, Elvis Costello, Andy Cohen, and former late show band leader, Jon Baptist were on. Paul McCartney was Stephen’s main interview and they talked about February 1964 when The Beatles first performed on that Ed Sullivan Theater stage. The last Late Show ended with McCartney, Colbert and Luis Cato and The Great Big Joy Machine (formerly Stay Human) performing “Hello, Goodbye,” complete with Paul McCartney on his signature Hofner violin bass guitar. In principle I deleted the CBS and Paramount apps afterward.
The grocery store already had what I call a free-beer crowd when we pulled in. We elbowed our way in for some brats and buns, some burger (ouch!), some Windsor, and well, you know . . . anyway, we are spending a quiet holiday without traveling, watching the Brewers and Dodgers, and maybe going to the Memorial Day parade in Stoddard. Speaking of The Brewers, how about that butt kicking of the Cubs this week? I was perturbed when The Brewers traded Caleb Durbin to Boston. They got lefties Kyle Harrison and Shane Drohan and infielder David Hamilton for him. All three contributed to the beat down of the Cubs this last week. Good trade!
This last week, my cousin Jimmy Mink turned a year older than me. I wrote this for him (and now you).
Happy Birthday older than me Jimmy! Your 75 years gives me a goal for next year I guess.
Anyway cuz, my memories of you and our family start off with picnics and holiday dinners at Patch Grove, Lancaster, and on Irish Ridge. Perhaps you’ll remember driving past Bucks’s pole shed, and the tall pink hollyhocks amid the old horse drawn farm machinery, chicken house, pig sty, corn crib, milk house, and seeing the old barn below. We’d go into Grandma Potter’s yard through the swinging garden gate that was shaded by a spreading pear tree. The old collies Gus and Rusty were checking everyone out and Aunt Dode’s numerous cats were underfoot preening for attention. After many warm and often loud greetings, we’d go into the summer porch past Uncle Cellie’s sofa and the old summer kitchen sink. In the wood stove heated kitchen there would be the aroma of cooking meat and Grandma’s fabulous sourdough biscuits and cigarette smoke from Uncle Buck in his corner with a bottle of Potosi beer and Grandpa Charlie by the cookstove with a “snort” of Holiday beer. There would be a couple of pies, your mom’s red raspberry maybe, apple pie probably, and my favorite sour cream raisin maybe on the counter. The curtain into the pantry might be open enough to see all of the detritus of cooking and canning shelved or hanging about, including Grandma’s old squirrel pistol. You remember the one with a wire style stock. I have a mental picture of Uncles Donnie, Keith, maybe Virgil, or even Uncle Claude Mink, and Uncle Lawrence Leeser slamming the table and bouncing beer bottles and ash trays after setting the other side in the euchre game going on the oilcloth table cover before and after dinner while Uncle Harold Day and Bud, my dad looked on. My grandma Mary, great Aunt Julia Mink, Aunt Darlene Potter, Joyce my mom, your mom Mary, Aunt Mae Day, Aunt Helen Leeser, aunt Shirley Mink, and cousin Patricia Mink and more crowded into the small house. Depending on the occasion and weather, the cousins: you, me, Jeff, Cindy, Diane, a very young Del and Kim, Doug, Jo Anne, my sister Diane, Steve, Mary, Roger, Ronnie, Gary, Jerry might have chosen or been ushered out into the back yard under the ancient, cool maple trees by the garden and outhouse. We might be sipping Pepsis or Mountain Dews or Mello Yellos, or maybe we’d be off exploring in Buck’s shed, or checking out the pigs in the stye or throwing corn cobs in the old corn crib, or climbing in the haymow. Ronnie and Gary and maybe Roger probably picked on us and instigated and even taught us on occasion. I remember Ron telling me to pee on the electric fence wire. Novice that I was, I did and I learned. Anyway, many fond memories.
We wish you many more family get-togethers and many more happy birthdays.
Until next time, get out – El and I were down at our home town, Cassville last Saturday for our niece Emma Hauk’s high school graduation and party. Good time, good to see so many, and too much good food. At the high school we stopped and contemplated the many photos of Cassville High School’s vets on the wall of honor. As the song says, “Some are dead and some are living / In my life, I’ve loved them all.”
There are so many that have gone before us to remember this day and all days.
Peace.
Greg Koelker is a lifelong resident of the Driftless region along the Mississippi River. He is the acclaimed author of the “Grouse Hollow Journal,” a column that celebrates rural life, nature, family heritage, and the traditions that bind communities together. While technically focused on the “outdoors,” his writing often explores broader themes of community values and education.
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