Happy 4th of July

Republishing this oldie, I can't believe it's been more than 10 years since I wrote this, enjoy.

I grew up in a little town on Lake Superior, Ashland Wisconsin. For as long as I could remember, the population sign at the city limits said 9615. I didn’t know then that it was a little place or that it was pretty far north. To me it was just home.

Summer would arrive and we would hurry to get to do everything we wanted in the 12 short weeks we were out of school. We built forts, went swimming, went to the Little League park, rode our bikes and ran around like our pants were on fire. We played a lot of wiffle ball, which was good because the chances of breaking a window were almost zero. We had a regular diamond in our front yard. Grass never grew on the bases, home plate or the pitcher’s mound. My parent’s never minded.

The Little League season would start and we would have our duties to fulfill at the ball park. Back then girls weren’t allowed to play in Little League. I don’t even think it occurred to us to complain about that. Instead we would raise up the flag at the ball park before the games started, we would help sell popcorn, candy and soda from the concession stand, we would go around with collection boxes during the 7th inning and we would lower the flag at the end of the night and fold it just like we learned in Girl Scouts.

But that wasn’t the only civic duty we took part in. We also participated in the 4th of July parade every year. We would pick a theme, dress up, and off we would go. Sometimes we just decorated our bikes with red,white and blue and wore our new 4th of July outfits that our Gramma bought us. Other times we wore costumes to present some famous moment in history.

My parents bought a 1929 International Pickup truck for my sister when she was in college. We would usually talk her into driving the truck while we rode in the back. The first year we did this, we all dressed up in colonial costumes (ok, to us they were colonial costumes, they were just old clothes to everyone else) and we had a big sheet and some red and blue cloth. We were reenacting Betsy Ross sewing the first American Flag. Oh and the best part was Jody was playing the Star Spangled Banner on her kazoo!!!! We had music and everything.

Another year we dressed up as characters from the Wizard of Oz. We had great costumes that year. My sister Clare was the wicked witch and I was the tin man. Clare’s green make-up was really scary for a little kid. I was a little afraid of her that year.

I always loved the part in the parade when you could hear the announcer say your name and describe your entry in the parade. I also enjoyed hearing my sister Mary say that she hoped no one recognized her. I secretly hoped everyone she knew saw her.

After the parade, we went home, took off the costumes, washed off any make-up we were wearing and peddled our bikes to the carnival down on the west end in the parking lot of Monk’s Bowling Lanes.

Clare would always win gold fish. The poor things would never live very long, but she loved getting them. She was always good at winning things. We always gave her money for the cake walk during the school fun night. She always brought home at least one cake.

The 4th of July was a busy day for us. The parade in the morning, the carnival in the afternoon and then the fireworks at night. In the evening, we would walk down to the post office and sit on a blanket across the street from the band shell. Sometimes we heard the tail end of the concert, it was always patriotic music of course.

As we sat on our blankets on the damp, sweet smelling grass, we allowed ourselves to quiet down for the first time since early morning. We had been running at 100 mph all day and now it was time to wind down.

We would lay on the blanket and watch as the beautiful fireworks painted the sky and clouds with droplets and streaks of color. I always like the blue ones, the big puffs of color remind me of flowers.

And all too soon, the grand finale and then they were done. Sometimes we had to wake up to walk home, we weren’t very far. People didn’t drive everywhere back then. We all bundled up the little kids, folded the blankets, put on our shoes (if we wore them, most of the time we didn’t). and walked home in a quiet hush. All of the anxious talking and laughing happened before the fireworks. When they were done, it was quiet and comfortable, like the day after Christmas.

After we got home, we would lay in our bunk beds and talk, Clare and I. We would talk about our favorite color, the fun rides at the carnival and the excitement of the parade. We had our fill of fun for one day, tomorrow would be spent on other adventures. Maybe a ball game, maybe we would build a raft and float out into the bay, or maybe it would rain so we would spend the day with our Barbies.

I’ll never forget those summer days and nights. It always seemed like the warm weather was magical. It felt like the night was softer when it was warm. Like the night was made of a dark blue velvet cloak that wound around us when we played tag in the dark and kept us safe.

I still look at the stars every night. Since we don’t live near a city, we see millions of stars and it feels like they are close enough to touch. I look up to the stars and the dark blue sky to talk to God, to say hi to my Dad and to pray.

Today I wasn’t in a parade and I didn’t pedal my bike to the carnival. There’s no chance of me getting on a tilt-a-whirl and I don’t have a goldfish in a bowl. But I still have the warm blue velvet nights of my youth. They wrap around me and my pain and give me the strength I need. My prayers are answered and my faith is restored.

God bless America, God bless the summer nights and God bless all of you .

Thanks for listening.

Anne

Comments

Dear Anne,
Thank you for another beautiful slice of your life/memories. It brought back my own childhood summers. Thanks for reminding us to perhaps search our own memories for comfort, inspiration and sustenance to see us through our pain. You write beautifully and have a gift for capturing a specific moment in time.
Breath in Peace, Kathy