Fourth of July picnic

 On July 4th, the sun blazed down relentlessly on a small farming community. Every year, the residents held a family picnic in the backyard, with tables set up beneath the large tree that Great-Grandad had planted when he first settled in the area. Inside, Mom, several aunts, and their older daughters prepared food in the sweltering heat, frequently wiping their brows with aprons and fanning themselves with dish towels. With no air conditioning available, the open windows brought in more flies than fresh air.

The horseshoe game was left untouched, as the iron shoes would burn anyone who tried to pick them up. The makeshift baseball field also sat idle, with the players gathered under the tree, sipping lemonade and Coca-Cola from glass bottles.

Granddad, along with a few other farmers, mostly his brothers, some younger men, and lifelong friends, wiped their brows with handkerchiefs from their pockets. This habit puzzled some of the women, who could never understand how the men could put used handkerchiefs back in their pockets after using them.

Two teenage kids holding hands disappeared behind the barn for a bit too long. Mom surprised them while they were kissing, quickly shooing the boy away and pulling her daughter by the ear to bring her back inside to help with the food.

When the table was finally set, the food was brought out to everyone's delight. They exclaimed that they hadn’t seen such a spread since the last Fourth of July. There were two roasted chickens, fresh vegetables from the garden, potato and macaroni salads made with a family secret recipe, and freshly baked dinner rolls were just a few of the dishes prepared in the now cooling kitchen, as the ovens were turned off and the ladies could take a well-deserved break with a cool drink, proud of their efforts.

After the desserts were served, several of the men took naps under the great tree, only to be awakened by the sonic booms of fireworks that the older boys had retrieved from the garage—perhaps a bit too early for such things, but still entertaining. As darkness fell and the air cooled, the real fireworks show began. Dad and his brothers would bring home a variety of fireworks every year from a man who made regular trips to Canada to purchase the best available explosives.

Gathered together, the women and children looked up to the sky, clapping and shouting their approval as each display grew bigger and louder than the last. Mom yelled each time Dad lit a fuse, cautioning him not to blow off a finger, as she wanted him around for a while longer.

The fireworks show was a resounding success, marking the end of the party and bedtime for the little ones. Afterward, the tables were cleared and stored away until the next gathering, and the used fireworks were placed in a bucket of water for safety. Goodbyes were exchanged as everyone departed.

“Hope tomorrow is cooler,” Dad said to Mom as he kissed her cheek and went to bed, shooing away the pesky flies.

Mike 2025