Memorial Day signifies different things to Americans. For
some, it is a day to honor our service members, especially the fallen, for the
sacrifices they’ve made on our behalf. For others, it’s a day off school, or perhaps
the ultimate play date: the beginning of summer vacation. Families gather
whether or not they have any connection to military service and celebrate being
together. Picnics are traditional, as are patriotic colors. Flags abound.
For me, Memorial Day has a distinctly different meaning.
On Memorial Day in 1974, my daughter Alexandra arrived. While I was laboring in
the hospital, my husband was working out of town. My family of origin was
dispersed across the country and apparently all picnicking, because I couldn’t
reach anyone by phone. It was just me and Alexandra at 1:04 in the afternoon—plus the necessary cadre
of medical staff.
I took her name from my dad’s middle name, Alexander. It
had gravitas and it shortened nicely.
Alexandra has variously gone by Alex, Alyxx (teen years mostly), and now
Alix. It doesn’t matter to me what she calls herself. My pet name for her is
Allie.
Allie gave me the best gift I have ever received: she
made me a mother. Not only that, but she gave me a family of my own. It’s not a
secret that her father and I had a marriage on the rocks and that I had left
him before her birth. From day one, it was the two of us.
It may have been merely coincidence, but three weeks after Alix’s
birth, Helen Reddy’s “You and Me Against the World” was
released as a single. It became our anthem, although I did all the singing.
Having a daughter made me so happy. And I had known she
would be a daughter from the beginning. My mother, who had given birth to three
boys before she finally had me, kept telling me that I needed to pick out a boy’s
name “just in case.” Finally, I told her she could pick it out. With five sons,
she’d had plenty of opportunities to consider boys’ names. She suggested Daniel
and Evan; fine by me, I knew I wouldn’t need them and I didn’t.
One of my brothers and his wife had a baby boy a few weeks later and were disappointed because I had used Dad’s name before they could.
Seemed silly to me, the kids lived thousands of miles apart, but so be it, I
got first dibs. (And he has done fine being Kristian.)
Her actual birthday only falls on Memorial Day every 5-7
years; I'm taking her out to lunch to celebrate together on the real day. My message today is “Happy
Birthday, Allie, and thank you for the gift of motherhood and family.”
Now that I’ve shared what Memorial Day means to me, tell
me what it mean to you.
