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Memorial Day 2025: Honor the occasion with observances, salutes, parades and more

Memorial Day 2025: Honor the occasion with observances, salutes, parades and more

Celebrated on the last Monday in May, Memorial Day will see Bay Area organizations marking the occasion with parades, wreath-laying ceremonies, cemetery memorial events and local presentations honoring American soldiers.
However, it's not all solemn observances. There are plenty of afternoon barbecues and parties scheduled to mark the unofficial start to the summer season. And things are right on schedule, with the long weekend filled with festivals, including Carnaval San Francisco and BottleRock Napa Valley.
Services and ceremonies
Annual Flag Planting Event at the San Francisco Presidio National Cemetery
8:45 a.m. Saturday, May 24. Free, reservations required. Presidio National Cemetery, 1 Lincoln Blvd., S.F. 925-674-6100. www.goldengatescouting.org
Royal Canadian Legion Memorial Day Service
Branch 25 of the Royal Canadian Legion San Francisco Bay Area plans to host a program honoring the holiday with members of the U.S. Naval Sea Cadet Corps, Arkansas Division.
11 a.m.-noon Saturday, May 24. Free. Greenlawn Memorial Park, 1100 El Camino Real, Colma. 203-997-6330.
Benicia Arsenal Post Cemetery Memorial Day Service
Commemorate Memorial Day with a visit to the oldest military cemetery on the West Coast.
Open 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday, May 26. Free. Birch Road, Benicia. 707-693-2460.
San Rafael Memorial Day Service
Marin County United Veterans Council conducts a program featuring patriotic music, speakers, a flag display and wreath-laying ceremony.
9 a.m. Monday, May 26. Free. Marin Center Exhibit Hall, 20 Avenue of the Flags, San Rafael. 415-473-7000. www.marincenter.marincounty.gov
Hillsborough Memorial Day
The town parade kicks off an afternoon filled with Memorial Day activities, including an observance and memorial ceremony followed by a carnival with live local music and food trucks.
Parade at 9:45 a.m.; memorial service at 11:15 a.m.; music fest at 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Monday, May 26. Free. Town Hall, 1600 Floribunda Ave., Hillsborough. 650-375-7400. www.hillsborough.net
USS Hornet Memorial Day Service
Observe the occasion onboard the USS Hornet with a wreath-laying ceremony, color guard presentation, guest speakers and a memorial squadron flyover. Be aware that the vessel will also be hosting a three-day cosplay, Furry festival, 'Galactic Camp,' from May 24-26 featuring many events for all ages.
10 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday, May 26. Included with museum admission; veterans free. 707 W. Hornet Ave., Pier 3, Alameda. 510-521-8448. www.uss-hornet.org
Mountain View Cemetery Memorial Day Commemoration
Celebrating its 101st anniversary, the memorial event is set to include a presentation of colors, salute to the fallen, refreshments, walking tours, live music and speakers.
10 a.m.-noon Monday, May 26. Free. 5000 Piedmont Ave., Oakland. 510-658-2588. www.mountainviewcemetery.org
Mill Valley Salutes Memorial Day
Mark the holiday with a small-town parade, preceded by a memorial service at 9:45 a.m. Stake out a spot near downtown's Lytton Square, where some of those marching will pause for brief performances. Be ready for singing, dancing, creative floats and more. A carnival and live music concert continue Monday's festivities at the community center after the parade.
10 a.m. Monday, May 26. Free. Parade route runs from Old Mill Park to Mount Tamalpais High School along Miller Ave., Mill Valley.
Following a ceremony and salute at the National Cemetery at 10:30 a.m., Presidio Chapel will host a meditative concert by organist Robert Gurney at 12:15 p.m. Take a self-guided tour of the Presidio's memorials and monuments. Explore a history exhibition at the Officer's Club, enjoy local food trucks on the Main Parade Lawn and more.
The Golden Gate National Cemetery in San Bruno will also hold a morning Memorial Day ceremony.
10:30 a.m.-2 p.m. Monday, May 26. Free. Presidio Main Post, 50 Moraga Ave., S.F. and Presidio Chapel, 130 Fisher Loop, The Presidio, S.F. 415-561-3930. www.presidio.gov/explore/events
2025 Seaman's Memorial Cruise
Climb aboard the SS Jeremiah O'Brien for its annual bay cruise in honor of Memorial Day. Includes a wreath-laying ceremony conducted on the ocean near the Golden Gate Bridge, with color guard service. Tickets include refreshments.
9 a.m.-2 p.m. Saturday, May 31. $110-$165, reservations required. Pier 35, Fisherman's Wharf, S.F. 415-544-0100. www.ssjeremiahobrien.org
Festivals and Other Events
Mill Valley Memorial Day Carnival and Concert on the Green
Bring the family for some old-fashioned fun with carnival rides and games, live entertainment and vendors. On Monday, the event will include an outdoor music festival, food and drink vendors and more.
4-10 p.m. Friday, May 23; Noon-10 p.m. Saturday-Sunday, May 24-25; noon-5 p.m. Monday, May 26. Free admission; ride tickets and wristbands available; reservations recommended. Friends Field, Mill Valley Community Center, 180 Camino Alto, Mill Valley. www.kiddo.org
Marin Greek Festival
Celebrate the holiday weekend with live music from the Kymata Band, Greek food, wine and sweet treats, speakers, cultural activities and dancing.
5-9 p.m. Friday, May 23; 11 a.m.-9 p.m. Saturday, May 24; 11 a.m.-8 p.m. Sunday, May 25. Free-$5 admission. Nativity of Christ Greek Orthodox Church, 1110 Highland Dr., Novato. www.maringreekfestival.org
Memorial Day Weekend Bay Area Kidfest
This long-running annual Bay Area family event is set to feature live entertainment on multiple stages, children's activities, food vendors, carnival rides, arts and crafts exhibitors. A Memorial Day ceremony, scheduled at noon on Monday, is set to feature the award-winning Concord Blue Devils C Drum and Bugle Corps and the Mount Diablo High School Jr. ROTC color guard.
10 a.m.-6 p.m. Saturday-Sunday, May 24-25; 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday, May 26. $9-$40, under 2 and seniors free; reservations recommended. Mount Diablo High School, 2450 Grant St., Concord. 925-408-4014. www.kidfestconcord.com
Point Reyes Memorial Day Weekend Open Studios
Tour artists' studios in the Point Reyes Station, Inverness and Inverness Park area over the holiday weekend. Featuring an assemblage of West Marin sculptors, photographers, potters, painters, glass artists, jewelry makers, fiber artists and woodworkers with studios open to the public. Studio locations map can be found online.
51st Annual Muir Beach Volunteer Firemen's Barbecue
The popular fundraising event is scheduled to include a barbecue or vegetarian tamale lunch, dessert, plus live music with Lumanation and the Andre Pessis All-Stars. There will be craft beer and wine, children's activities, a raffle and more family-friendly fun.
Noon-5 p.m. Sunday, May 25. $10-$30. Santos Meadows, 2704 Muir Woods Road, Muir Beach. 415-381-8793. www.muirbeachfire.com
San Ramon Art and Wind Festival
The annual celebration of all things that fly features fine arts, crafts and specialty food vendors, live entertainment on three stages, children's activities, professional kite-flying demonstrations and a kite-making workshop.
The city of San Ramon will host a Memorial Day ceremony from 9-10 a.m. at Memorial Park that's set to include live patriotic music performed by Olympia Fields Brass and vocalist Saee Ghate.
11 a.m.-6 p.m. Sunday-Monday, May 25-26. Free. Central Park, 12501 Alcosta Blvd., San Ramon. 925-973-2500.
Hang out for an afternoon celebration with barbecue lunch and live DJ sets from Jasmine Solano, JCUE, Lady Ryan, Dauche and Knowpa Slaps.
2-8 p.m. Sunday, May 25. SVN West Rooftop, 10 S Van Ness Ave., S.F. www.15utah.com
Bolinas Memorial Day Food Festival
Enjoy Memorial Day afternoon in Bolinas with Thai food, paella, tamales, oysters, live music and drinks.
Noon-5 p.m. Monday, May 26. Free admission. Bolinas Community Center, 14 Wharf Road, Bolinas. 415-868-2128. www.bocenter.org
S— Kickin Memorial Day Bash
Spend the afternoon and evening hanging out with a beverage at El Rio S.F.'s back patio stage, and enjoy a food pop-up along with live music from Kevin Carducci and the KC Stars, Proud Mary, Smelley Kelley's Honky-Tonk Nighttime Band, the Ugly and DJ Mexican Spitfire spinning old-timey country hits.
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Column: European goldfinch a nice addition to local landscape
Column: European goldfinch a nice addition to local landscape

Chicago Tribune

time6 hours ago

  • Chicago Tribune

Column: European goldfinch a nice addition to local landscape

There's a new kid on the block. It looks like a male American goldfinch that visits thistle feeders showing off its yellow plumage complemented by a black cap and black wings. The new kid is also a goldfinch, and not only does it have black and yellow hues but also bold red and bright white colors. It's a European goldfinch, and its native home is in Europe. The species was introduced to places outside its native range, including the United States, Australia, New Zealand and southern South America. The introductions began as early as the late 1800s, when the birds were sold as caged pets but later released outdoors, only to disappear, reappear elsewhere, and then disappear from their new homes, only to show up in yet another place. But since 2003, the European goldfinch has successfully raised young along Lake Michigan between Chicago and Milwaukee. Now those of us who count all the bird species we've ever seen can add the European goldfinch to our Illinois life lists. My first encounter with this colorful finch was in Waukegan along the lakefront perhaps a decade ago. However, I had never seen them elsewhere in Lake County, until recently. Although a Mundelein resident did report occasional sightings at his bird feeder over the years. Last winter, this boldly colored bird appeared as a new species in my yard feasting on thistle seed in feeders. It was more skittish than the American goldfinches, and only returned once. This spring, while walking in my neighborhood, I heard an unfamiliar, lovely bird song, looked up and saw a European goldfinch. Weeks later, three appeared at our thistle feeders, and a fourth, an immature, arrived as well. The immature is streaked in the upper half of its body, but has its parents' bold black, yellow and white wing pattern and forked tail edged in white. Another friend who lives in Mundelein texted me that she had them in her yard, too. She sent me photos of the birds eating safflower seeds. I have since found reports in the past five years from Lake Villa, Lake Forest, Grayslake, Lincolnshire, Vernon Hills, Lake Bluff, Round Lake and Libertyville. On Jan. 8, 2024, the Illinois Ornithological Records Committee added the European goldfinch to the official Illinois state checklist. This is not the first time a bird from far away has been introduced purposefully or by accident into a region where it doesn't belong. European starlings were brought from Europe to North America in the late 19th century, and today they are ubiquitous, with an estimated 150 million living on our continent. The starling easily adapted to habitats, food and nest sites here and began competing with native bird species such as purple martins, red-headed woodpecker, wood duck and eastern bluebird, all of which use cavities for nesting. The species has also caused damage to crops, and is now considered invasive and a pest. Another introduced species, the monk parakeet, has found a home in cities like Chicago. The noisy, green-and-gray parakeets are native to South America. They were brought as pets to North America and began establishing wild populations in the 1960s. They are the only parakeets to nest communally. Dozens live together year-round in large, multifamily stick nests built in trees and on power poles. These large group nests may be one way to survive cold winters. Monk parakeets aren't causing problems in Illinois, but they are agricultural pests and invasive species in states including California, Colorado, Georgia, Kansas, Kentucky, Hawaii, Maine, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Tennessee and Wisconsin, where it is illegal to sell or own them. Still, most non-native bird species have failed to develop permanent populations in their new environments, according to Julie Craves, an ornithologist who has studied the introduction and expansion of European goldfinches in the United States, especially the Great Lakes region. Relatively few introduced bird species, particularly songbirds, have had severe impacts on native species living in the mainland U.S., except for species introduced in Hawaii. European goldfinches eat seeds from teasel, thistle and other invasive plants. I'm not sure what that means for these plants, but so far, the goldfinches have not been competing with native birds for nesting and feeding territories. The European starling is here to stay and continues to be a pest in North America. For now, the European goldfinch seems to be a lovely addition to our northern Illinois landscape.

The Complexity of Home: What Alabama Taught Me About Life
The Complexity of Home: What Alabama Taught Me About Life

Elle

time7 hours ago

  • Elle

The Complexity of Home: What Alabama Taught Me About Life

It depends on who is doing the looking. Since the cementing of the American union, the story of Alabama has lain in its being the most visible stage for the best and worst results of our democratic experiment. But while outsiders have often glanced at the state—to draw a contrast, to make a point, to make an example of—its true nature has rarely been understood. Alabama is too racist, too religious, too backward. It either needs outside intervention or is a lost cause. If the Deep South is the essence of the nation—as Howard Zinn put it, a region that 'is a distillation of those traits which are the worst (and a few which are the best) in the national character'—that could be why, when I am outside the South, I can always predict the responses of people once I tell them I am from Alabama. I never really left the South until I graduated from high school; moving to college in New Jersey was the second time in my life I traveled by plane, the first being seven years earlier. Leaving hadn't been necessary. Every place that was important or desirable to me, from school to where we vacationed, was reachable by car, and everyone around me learned how to drive by, at the latest, the age of 15. My first car, which I raced from my high school parking lot to the mall to my house while blasting Three 6 Mafia, Trina, and OutKast on HOT 105.7, was my family's stop sign–red Plymouth Voyager minivan. It was so uncool my friends found it endearing. When I was growing up, my hometown of Montgomery was the source of what I knew about how people related to one another and what I could assume about a person from how they carried themselves, how they talked to me, and where they lived. The things I thought I knew—that there was always a geographic direction in which to aspire to move, that talking to everyone regardless of their schooling or money was vital to both your spiritual and your social standing, that it mattered that you let others know your educational and material statuses with grace and that you let them know what those statuses were—still felt essential when I looked back years later. As a child, most of my travel came about when my mom, my two younger brothers, and I followed my dad to academic conferences in cities around the region, like Baton Rouge and Biloxi and Raleigh, or when we went on weekend vacations to Atlanta, the Black southerner's version of New York City. We usually stayed in my parents' favorite hotel chain, Embassy Suites, on these trips; my parents rented a one-bedroom suite with two double beds and a pull-out couch, and we fell into a sleeping arrangement that allowed us all just enough space. Our tastes were modest, decent. We drove from Montgomery every trip, no matter how long it took. But I fantasized about indecency. After 18 years of imagining the world outside the South, I arrived on the baroquely lush campus of Princeton University in the fall of 2002. I remember walking over what felt like acres of clipped, vivid green with my family, looking up at Gothic arches. We were staying in an Embassy Suites–like hotel not quite in the town of Princeton, and we had driven onto campus in our rental car to move me into my dorm. Later, I was standing in a crowd of people from my freshman class, waiting to leave a lecture hall after orientation, in front of a boy who would become my editor at the campus alternative weekly; he was talking with his friend, who would become known as the campus coke dealer, about a girl who had brought a DVR to install in her dorm room because she couldn't miss her favorite television shows while she was in class. The boys sounded amused and impressed. They mentioned the girl's skiing vacations and her boarding school, the name of which seemed to be shorthand for a good pedigree. Her name, which was Tobin, also seemed to be shorthand for the kind of taste that preferred wealth to style. I had had no idea there were even kids who wanted to venture beyond the driving radius around their homes and go to a place like boarding school. Standing in that crowd was when I realized that many of the symbols of status I knew—summers spent at the lake, membership to the right church youth group—no longer applied and that I would soon have to learn what the new, relevant symbols were. I was sheltered by parents who had refused to let me date or go to late-night parties, but who had seen no problem in taking my brothers and me to weekend matinee showings of erotic thrillers like Single White Female or letting us read anything we wanted as vicarious experimentation. I needed to transition from consuming whatever adult novel I could find in the public library to expertly responding to the late-night drunken voicemails from the boy standing behind me at orientation, the lovely coke dealer. Modesty and decency were relative here. I knew very little about Princeton before going. I zoomed in on photos of its campus on Google, examined carefully chosen images on its website to see how students were dressed and which ones were grouped together, and spent time looking around to see what people did with their days besides going to class. I never visited the campus, despite Princeton having a 'Pre-Frosh Weekend.' Visiting seemed too expensive, would take up too much time, and no one suggested it. After receiving my acceptance email, I celebrated for a few minutes with my parents and then went back to the computer to email the admissions office. I needed to ask how many Black students were at the school, because it was impossible to tell from the photos. It was an email I never would have sent to a school south of Virginia—the farthest north I had ever been—where I could be sure to find enough people who looked like me. In the mid-2000s, and twenty years on, the South remained the Blackest part of the country; more than half its Black population lived there as of 2022. Despite the Great Migration having taken millions of Black southerners to the North during the first half of the twentieth century, to escape racism and terror, millions of Black people had returned to the South or come for the first time. The Princeton admissions office responded that African Americans made up about 9 percent of the student body; the office added that I should let them know if I needed any more information. The percentage would have to do. It didn't take long to realize I was an anomaly of sorts on campus: one of not many Black students, one of not many Black southern students, and one of not many southern students at all. Even at a university that, by reputation, was the most preppy-attired, conservative values–holding, and thus 'southern,' of all the colleges in the Northeast, there were few people who claimed to belong to the last two categories. Any comfort I took in Princeton's reputation as a southern-minded school was supposed to make me feel better that I was one of a handful of students in my high school class leaving Alabama; college would be something like home far from home. So when I met other students and professors, and we introduced ourselves, it took a while to get used to the routine. Their reactions, depending on how much time they had spent down South, would head down one of two distinct avenues. If they hadn't lived lower than the Carolinas, they'd say 'Alabama?!' with outright surprise or, if they were able to fix their expressions soon enough, a 'Whoa, Alabama' with careful wariness. As I confirmed they had heard me right, they seemed to be imagining the extremity of what being a Black girl from Alabama must entail. Fire hoses, lynchings. Then a 'What was that like?' with the dumbstruck look still on their faces, sometimes shaking their heads with pity for troubles assumed to have been endured. If they were from the South, there was usually an assumption that we would get along, an easiness that I returned in kind. It was difficult—is still difficult—to look head-on at Alabama; it was uncomfortable. It was also easier for most people to believe they were more sure about my home state than I was. Alabama was where I had learned how to think and decide what I valued. But their expectations about how I grew up pushed me to choose a side: either agree and play up the state's worst aspects or weakly defend it. So much so that, over time, I began to forget parts of how I had grown up, the nuances of how Alabamians lived and thought, and could recall only broad strokes about race and politics and religion. I began to forget that Alabama is, before anything else, home. Those people and I weren't ready for what lay in between: the worth of a place and why people choose to call it home. Why do people stay? And what happens to them? Alabama was the best place to find the answers. Adapted from BLESSINGS AND DISASTERS: A Story of Alabama by Alexis Okeowo, published by Henry Holt and Co. on August 5, 2025. Copyright © 2025 by Alexis Okeowo. Printed by permission.

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