After the ceremony we went out for dim sum and argued about our apartment. When our Lyft driver came he said we were his first partiers of the night. We told him we were going to my mom’s house. He was listening to a podcast about Memorial Day. The host spoke in low, grave tones, drawing out his cadence to convey respect. Periodically the driver would repeat certain key phrases to himself in a low murmur, as if committing them to memory. At regular intervals the podcast volume ducked for Siri to break in dictating which turn the driver should take.

When we remember what we have, the host began.

In half a mile, turn right onto 30th, interrupted Siri.

What we have, the driver echoed, as if reminding the host where he had left off.

So on this particular Memorial Day, the host continued, oblivious to his interruption.

In a quarter mile, turn right onto 30th, interrupted Siri.

Memorial Day, the driver reminded us.

The iconic photo, the host continued.

Turn right onto 30th, interrupted Siri.

The soldiers returning home from Vietnam, the host continued.

Vietnam, the driver repeated in a tone of deepest reverence.