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It’s funny how meanings morph over time.

Memorial Day weekend is, to most, a long weekend. Adult play time. Another Monday off the usual work week calendar — the start of summer, good weather, grilling, and festivals.

The word Memorial comes from the Latin root memor, meaning mindful, remembering or memory.

Did we forget the meaning of Memorial Day or are white claws in the sun just easier?

I won’t lie… I white-clawed in the sun all day Sunday with a bunch of comedians at a Cubs game. I too have fallen victim to making Memorial Day about drinks and friends and “outside dog” time.

But there is something about fucking off with friends that feels just as commemorative, no?

I don’t wanna brag, but I get two memorial day weekends back to back.

Next weekend is my dad’s memorial. And a strange part of me is looking forward to it — it’s a time to be with family and friends, and honor dad’s life. In Wisconsin. In both me and my dad’s hometown. Outside. With drinks and BBQ.

Maybe meanings are meant to change over time.

And maybe there's no wrong way to honor memory — whether it's a national holiday that's become about connection and celebration, or a personal memorial that will be about the exact same thing.

The Hustle

Memorial moments aren't really about the solemnity. They're about the togetherness.

Remembering that things haven’t always been good or easy, but that there’s always a way to find joy in the little things. Like just having fun.

Whether it's a Cubs rooftop full of comedians day-drinking in the sun, or a backyard in Wisconsin where family and friends will gather to share dad stories, the point is the same: we show up for each other.

The Cubs game was perfect chaos. Comedians trying to explain baseball rules to each other, everyone talking over the actual game, everyone covered in nacho shrapnel by the top of the 6th.

But watching my comedy family just exist together, laughing at nothing and everything — that felt like honoring something too.

Maybe that's what memorial really means. Not just remembering people who die, but celebrating the living connections that make life worth living in the first place.

Dad would have loved that rooftop energy. He would've been the guy quietly observing all the personalities, probably making some dry comment about the couple singing “Take me out to the ballgame” off key.

He loved watching people be themselves, smirking at their oddities.

Memorial Day as a concept works because it gives us permission to pause and be grateful — of course for fallen soldiers and freedom (whatever we have of it these days, but that’s a thought for another time…), but also for the ability to waste a Sunday afternoon with people who make us laugh.

My dad's memorial will work for the same reason: permission to pause and be grateful for him, for us, for the fact that our family shows up for each other.

Different occasions, same energy. Both about honoring what matters by being present with people who matter.

The white claws are just the delivery method.

Especially with comedians…

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The Chill

The beautiful thing about memory is that it doesn't require ruminating in nostalgia-land to be meaningful.

I don't need to have the perfect words ready for dad's memorial next weekend. I don't need to worry about whether people will cry at the wrong moments or whether the BBQ will be appropriately reverent.

Dad wasn't a man who needed reverence. He needed laughter, good food, and people he loved acting exactly like themselves. And on a sunny day? A grill and a game of bags in the lawn.

He was a simple man.

So maybe the best way to honor him is to let it be exactly what it wants to be. Let the stories be messy and funny and honest. Let people eat too much potato salad and say weird shit to each other because that always happens with family and dead people.

Let it feel like the kind of gathering he would've enjoyed being part of.

The Cubs rooftop reminded me that some of my favorite memories aren't from big planned moments. They're from random Sundays when the right people ended up in the same place, just having an old fashioned good time.

That's what I want dad's memorial to feel like. Not a goodbye, but a Sunday afternoon with all his favorite people, telling the stories that made him who he was.

Memorial days — the holiday and the personal kind — work best when they feel less like obligations and more like celebrations. Less like endings and more like "we’re here now so let’s enjoy this moment.”

Maybe that's the real meaning we've been looking for all along.

Not remembrance as duty, but remembrance as a party.

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Upcoming Shows

Off of shows this week — I’ll be in Wisconsin with the fam! Pre-special taping tour dates in queue…

Love you all and cheers to the hustle + chill. We honor a good ol’ time.

xx NPH