42 - HAY DAYS

Mom and I often decorated the graves over Memorial weekend. We usually drove around the countryside where she was raised, while she recounted her memories. Driving by her favorite dance hall was part of our ritual—each year it seemed to deteriorate more and more.

But this particular year it had sunk to an alarming low—the center spine of the barn was nearly touching the ground. When Mom saw the sagging roof of Logan Hall, she was clearly shaken, but her determination to look inside before it collapsed was resolute. What we saw inside caught both of us completely off guard. Hay bales engulfed the beautiful ornate balustrades. She was taken aback seeing her beloved dance hall collapsing; her tears flowed as she shared endless stories of her teenage years, of her courting days, of the Von Seggern band, and of the families that attended. It was touching to hear her mind dance through her memories.

Though it was completely impractical, we moved through our ideas of how to rebuild her beloved structure and bring the music back.

It was clear that Mother wanted to relive those hay days—even if only for one more dance. This was such a special day, listening to Mother share stories of her teenage years: Mother’s Hay Days.