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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