Fourth of July

We’re thinking of you Mom. Born 94 years ago and a real sparkler, you were! How we loved the picnics and reunions that we celebrated most years on your birthday. Funny how times change. Today people want to celebrate with destination mega-parties, more hoop-la over turning one or fifty than those living to 100 ever got. But what I remember with the most fondness are the years we would meet with Nana & Jim, Bebe & Karl, Martha Jane and her family and our family at a little park outside of Elyria (it was deemed a more-or-less half-way point and unlikely to be crowded). We would play badminton, catch or maybe some short-team baseball, Frisbee, what else? Uncle Dick would cook the hamburgers and hotdogs. Everyone would exclaim over Bebe’s homemade baked beans and Nana’s potato salad. Who made the deviled eggs? There usually were a few boxes of sparklers for the kids. Dad wouldn’t tolerate firecrackers – he always remembered a neighbor child losing an eye to a firecracker when he was growing up. After Bebe and Karl were gone it seems like some years we met in Tiffin at Martha Jane’s house and some years in Akron on Ido Avenue. Once your children started to establish households it seems like the picnic moved from Media to Ravenna to Doylestown at different times over the years. In the 70s and 80s most celebrations ended by driving to a nearby park to watch the fireworks before we parted. But wherever we met the day was always looked forward to for months in advance, and reminisced about for months afterwards. We could almost document the family history by assembling a series of Fourth of July photographs. There is no doubt in my mind that simpler is better. Thanks, Mom, for all you gave us: everything that counts, everything that money can’t buy.