If someone was to ask you what your first memory of Memorial Day was as a kid, what would you say?
For me, one of the earliest memories I have of Memorial Day includes salamanders, a tired old house, and a long-forgotten baseball diamond.
Yes, I know that sounds a little odd, but let me explain.
Each and every Memorial Day weekend, my family, or part of it, at least, takes a trip to Eureka, Utah, to pay respects to some of our family’s ancestors by placing flowers on their graves.
If you’ve never been to Eureka, Utah, it is a very remote and dry place, an old mining town tucked away in a corner of Juab County, to be exact.
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If, by chance, you have never even heard of Eureka, Utah, don’t feel bad, you’re not alone. Nobody I talk to has heard of it either.
Honestly, if I didn’t have great grandparents buried there and other relatives buried in the nearby Silver City cemetery, I probably wouldn’t know where it was myself.
It’s not that the area has no interest for me besides my kinfolk, it actually does because, well, I love remote places such as Eureka.
I am, for lack of a better term, a desert rat. I love desolate, out-of-the-way places, and this annual trip fits that bill to a “T”.
But there is more to this trip than just exploring and photographing these remote and desolate locales, however, there is a part of my heritage that brings me to the region each year.
Nestled in between the Eureka and Silver City cemeteries, is the small mining town of Mammoth, Utah.
It might not make the daily news, but this small, rural community is a special place to me.
It is where part of my family’s roots are planted, as it were, and a broken-down old house still stands to this very day as a testament to my ancestors who once tried to tame this arid and rugged mountainside.
You see, part of this annual pilgrimage to Eureka is to drive by our great grandparent’s old house in Mammoth that is, for lack of a better term, still standing to this very day.
This is where some of my earliest childhood memories were born, chasing salamanders through a dry and dusty infield of an old and long-time forgotten baseball diamond that sat just a few yards away from the old house.
The bleachers are still there, and so are the childhood memories of many of our past trips to the house in Mammoth.
My father has since passed and much of this annual pilgrimage has changed, but one thing that hasn’t changed is the intrigue that, still to this day, resides within me of my ancestors who once called this seemingly inhospitable area home.
It’s not an easy trip for me to say the least. I put on over 350 miles and spent nearly 10 hours on the road from when I left my house to when I pulled back into my driveway.
But it is a trip I plan on taking each Memorial Day weekend for as long as I can.
My father has been gone for a few years now, and it is his grave we first start the trip off with. I am grateful for both my parents who took the time to show us a little bit about our heritage, our roots in this manner.
I think we should take a day each year to visit the gravesites of our ancestors, whether it be on Memorial Day or any other day of the year it matters not, and thank those who came before us with a flower or two.
Memorial Day is a day to honor both our military and our ancestors alike.
Luckily, I have the opportunity to do both, whereas my father served in the navy as a pilot, my great grandfather fought in World War 1 as part of the infantry, and my niece is now serving in the Navy on the other side of the country.
And it is trips like this one that reminds me of who I am and where I came from. We owe everything to our ancestors and the many sacrifices and hardships they had to endure.
I can’t even imagine living in Mammoth, Utah, back in the day. It is a very desolate, arid, and rugged region, and I can only imagine what life was like back then in such a most inhospitable place.
My mother has memories of childhood visits to her grandparents and the old house, and I am blessed and honored to be able to still take her to visit the same old house each and every year.
The house has changed a lot over the years. In fact, someone is now living on the property again, but even so, it still has a place in my heart and always will be my great-grandparent’s home.
I appreciate your willingness to let me take time out of my usual endeavors of photographing birds and nature and bring to you a little bit of my family tree. It is a part of me I am proud of and cherish with all of my soul.
I plan on getting right back into bird and nature photography, but I wanted to take a short break and share a little bit about my ancestors and a tired old house that has many fond memories for me.
One thing I will say is where ever you go, take a camera with you and photograph it, especially on trips like this.
I have watched the old house change over the years, and I am glad I took some of the photographs years ago, back when it was uninhabited and quite rustic, to say the least.
One of those images is hanging on my wall as we speak. And that framed image is a constant reminder of days gone by, memories I had with my parents and siblings visiting the old house that are still some of my most valuable possessions.
It is also a reminder of my ancestors, of whom I never got to meet, but hopefully someday I will when this part of life comes to a close and friends and families can see each other again on the other side.
Well, I hope everybody has a great Memorial Day Weekend and I am grateful for your readership. Feel free to subscribe to my blog if you haven’t already, and we will get back into nature photography and excursions with our next blog post.
