Editor’s Note: This article was written by Susan Martalla and originally published in the Aug. 4, 2000 edition of the Southern Standard. With the 98th annual Mt. Zion Picnic approaching this Saturday, Aug. 2, the newspaper is reprinting the article for its appropriateness.

As a college student, I once took a sociology course. During the lecture, my professor began to talk about an old tradition known as “cemetery decoration day.” According to this professor, cemetery decoration days were annual community rituals where groups of people, bound together by the common burial ground of their ancestors, came together to ensure the upkeep of the cemetery.
He said often there was a picnic and family reunion atmosphere, and that in later days the main activity was fundraising to support the maintenance of the cemetery throughout the year, rather than a full day of back-breaking work. The professor went on to comment that cemetery decoration days were common in the early part of this century, but to his knowledge, they had died out.
I was stunned by the professor’s report of the demise of the cemetery decoration day tradition and immediately raised my hand to correct this bit of misinformation. I said cemetery decoration days were alive and well in Warren County, Tennessee and particularly at Mt. Zion.
 The response I received from my classmates was not what I expected. Actually, I did not expect any response in particular. But I certainly did not expect my classmates to react with disgust at the idea of a celebration at the local cemetery. One girl said the whole idea was repulsive. Another said it sounded ghoulish. The professor, sensing an opportunity for lively debate, pushed me to describe the particulars of Mt. Zion Cemetery Decoration Day.
 To start with, I said we did not call our event the Mt. Zion Cemetery Decoration Day, though in reality that is what it is. Rather, we call it the Mt. Zion Picnic.
The repulsed girl snorted that she could think of any number of places to hold an annual picnic, and the local cemetery would be the last place on her list. I told her we did not actually sit and eat on graves. We have a wonderful little church, a picnic shelter, and a concession stand that turns out the finest hamburgers ever grilled.
     The professor was impressed with the concession stand. He said it was his understanding the food at cemetery decoration days consisted mostly of covered dish type meals.
     To be truthful, I told him the covered dish portion of our annual celebration had actually died out. I remember, when I was very small, the covered dish luncheon was a highlight of festivities. Just before noon, one of the local men would pull several flatbed trailers behind a tractor and arrange them in a straight line down the center of the field next of the old church.
     Within minutes, the wagons would be spread with tablecloths and the widest assortment of food you can imagine. There was fried chicken and garden-fresh vegetables of every variety and an entire wagon full of delicious-smelling pies. The only catch was that common varmints were considered company victuals to some of the regular attendees.
    My grandmother, who was terribly afraid my brother or sister would confuse possum parts with chicken parts, would go through the line with each of us and shake her head yes or no before we were allowed to put anything on our plates.
    At this brief account, the repulsed girl became sickened. She said she could not imagine why anyone in the world would ever want to attend such an event.
     I told her it had never occurred to me not to attend. It is a tradition that has been handed down through generations of my family. As we have become separated by time and distance, it is a bright spot on the calendar, a day when we know without question that we will all reunite. There is no planning requited. It is like Christmas or the Fourth of July. When the Mt. Zion Picnic rolls around, we honor it and attend.
     When viewed as a family reunion type event, several of my classmates could understand a reason for attending. However, none saw any benefit in attending to anyone outside the immediate families of those buried in the cemetery. So I enlightened them about the other activities at the picnic, from the political campaign stops in the morning, to the gospel singing, to the bluegrass band, to the cake walk and the raffle drawing at night. They were particularly curious about the cake walk.
     I explained that a cake walk is a game played around a big rope circle with numbers on it. Just like in musical chairs, when the band plays, everyone walks. When the band stops, everyone stops. Numbers are drawn and the lucky person standing by the drawn number wins a prize, usually a cake or other home-baked item. But our cake walk has reached such massive proportions that we have been known to give away candy bars and two liter Cokes when the baked goods run out. The catch is it cost a quarter each time you walk, hence the fundraising aspect of this event. My family has been known to drop two rolls of quarters with nothing to show for it but a two liter soft drink.
     To my classmate, I may have appeared to be a ghoulish idiot. In my mind, I knew I was fortunate to have a special date set aside on which to honor my grandfather and grandmother, my great grandparents and their parents before them. I am proud to pass this tradition to my children and hopefully someday, my grandchildren. It is one of those rare rituals that links generations in the present moment.
Whether you have any connection to Mt. Zion or not, we hope you will come out and help us preserve the cemetery decoration day tradition. Where else can you have a great time and the potential to take home a free country hand and a $20 two liter cold drink? Come to think of it, I think I’ll look up Miss Repulsed in the alumni directory and see if she has any plans for Saturday.