Friday, July 7, 2017

4TH OF JULY MEMORIES

                                                

Somewhere in the middle of summer vacation, was the fourth of July and although it really wasn’t the middle of summer vacation, it seemed like it. The first half of summer break was always better then the last half because you had been waiting nine months for it to come. June had been packed with so many things to do, projects that I had saved up to accomplish as soon as school was out. But with most of them now done, summer was already boring me with my carefree life style and the fourth was a welcome break. Most days we hitchhiked out to the old swimming hole in the river north of town to beat the heat. The swimming hole was right across from the golf course and most golfers were more then happy to give us a ride. I think of today’s world and how many mom’s and dads would have let their teen age kids hitchhike with strangers and go to a place in the river five miles from home where there had been an old mill and the currents had washed out a hole ten feet deep around the end of a pier that still survived? No dressing rooms, no lifeguards, no toilets. You just left your things on the riverbank and no one every bothered them. To be truthful, I had nothing to steal anyway but an old pair of cut offs and my worn out tennis shoes with a peanut butter sandwich stuffed in the toe. But by the fourth of July, the river was usually running low and most of the fun that there was to be had was now over. So as always, I looked forward to the 4th of July celebration.

The year I remember and the year of which I now write was some kind of a anniversary for that little town I grew up in. One of the contests that would be held in conjunction with the celebration was who could grow the most unusual beard? My dad took the challenge and grew a beard on just the left side of his face and kept the other side clean-shaven. Dad didn’t win however because some old codger who lived in the woods north of town, and hadn’t shaved for forty years came to town with his beard woven into a braid that went to his knees. There was a huge parade on the 4th complete with a National Guard tank on rubber treads and the highlight was when they shot off the big cannon right in the middle of town. Now it was a blank charge but the concussion still took out the windows in the Red Owl store much to the amusement of all of us kids.

That night my now clean-shaven father took all of us kids to Pine Grove Park for the baseball game under the new outdoor lights and then came the fireworks to cap off the evening. The game was free and as much as I loved baseball it was my first chance to watch the local team play. The team kept the game close and they went into the last inning all tied up and then our left fielder hit one over the fence to win it. I was ecstatic. Then came the fireworks and for a while it was the usual rockets and exploding projectiles and the crowd owing and awing. Then suddenly it was dark and all of a sudden out in center field the fence came alive and a huge American Flag was burning, red white and blue. I was mesmerized and when the last embers fell to the ground I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as if I had been there when the Marines hoisted our flag on Iwo Jima. I went home that night in a patriotic fervor, content that I lived in the greatest country on the face of the earth.


Postscript.---If you haven’t had a chance to preview my new book, stop into Reeds Country Market or the Frame Shop and take a look at it. I bet you’ll like it.

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