Here in Appalachia it is a day to remember the war dead (we have the highest percentage of populations of people killed in battle anywhere, or so I’ve been told) but it is also a day to mourn the dead in general. We go to our cemeteries, place flowers on graves, walk our children around the stones and tell them stories of Uncle Bill, Aunt Lula, Great Grandfather Burl. Some of the stories we were told ourselves in the same way. It is like the Mexican Day of the Dead.