I was up to my forearms in coleslaw veggies when Mary came in. While we volunteers were preparing the Hampton Memorial Day Chicken Barbecue sides, other volunteers had taken care to create a Historical Society float for the Memorial Day parade.

This year’s float showcased a selection of the uniforms that have been donated to the Society. Our president, Matt, provided the trailer and know-how to secure each mannequin displaying a uniform, from Civil War to wars of more recent generations. Mary had pictures of their successful efforts, and I was glad to take a break from cabbage and carrots to view them.

She mentioned, with a quiet smile, that my father’s own uniform had been displayed on a chair, instead of a mannequin. His dress jacket was hung over the back of the chair, his dress slacks on the seat, his cap ‘on the lap of the pants’.

I am still touched. I don’t know if any who decided on this method of display realized just how pertinent it was to my dad. Until his death over four decades ago, Barney (my dad) was a simple man, but talented and honest in his actions. His talents took him into cobwebbed cellars and modest kitchens, attics and cow barns, fields and the homes of the wealthy. He was a man comfortable in the kitchens, the homes’ hearts, of each of his customers.

A simple chair did honor to my father’s uniform in a way that none of the mannequins would have. Long after his death his uniqueness still stands out. Whether by intent or necessity, a simple chair to hold his uniform would have been how he would have wanted it. He would have approved. I, too, approve.

This simple display of his uniform will make my father stand out long after departing these borders, just as he stood out as an Army Air force mechanic, and just as he stood out while working here after, faithfully, steadily. He was a man of steady habits, a true Connecticut Yankee.

Perhaps many will observe and wonder at the distinctly different treatment of his uniform, and in so doing, will suddenly ascribe to him legendary status. Thank you for that, Mary, Matt, Susan, Jo, even if it was unintentional on your parts. I knew it was there all along.

June Pawlikowski Miller