So, along with finishing this project, Sara adding a couple more to the list, we also had a holiday, the 4th of July. For whatever reason, it caused me to be melancholy this year, thinking back over the years and all the special times and special people in my life. As I am sure would be the case with many of us, this really came down to thinking mostly about one place. For me, this place was my grandparent's home. Grandma and Grandpa lived out on the hill on the east side of Sigourney, Iowa. Growing up, my sister Jaye and I spent countless hours there, learning what being family meant, and honestly, finding out what working meant, as there was always something that needed to be done. Whether it was putting up hay, cleaning out stalls, or cracking walnuts on the anvil in the winter, there was always a project.
Even with plenty of work to do, the 4th of July was a time for family to gather. Nothing ever had to be said, we all just knew that on the evening of the 4th, we would gather on the hill and watch fireworks. My grandmother LOVED fireworks. In the early years the fireworks would be shot off at the old high school field (Schaefer field I believe) so we pointed our chairs to the south and west to watch them over the neighbor's barn. Later, after the Keokuk County Expo started, they were just down the hill to the east and the viewing was perfect.
As I said earlier, Grandma loved fireworks, so it always became an event, sometimes by design and sometimes not. One of my fondest memories was that on this special evening, Grandma would make fresh lemonade and serve it out of the old zinc pitcher that I remember being ice cold to the touch. Okay, to be fair, when I say real, what I mean is not Kool-Aid or any of the mixes, but real lemon juice (out of the bottle), sugar and water. What a treat it was. Sometimes we would have homemade ice cream or maybe something baked, but there was always lemonade.
This year, when Sara and I went out wandering with her mom, looking for a place where we could watch fireworks from the van, I remembered the days out on the hill and all that it meant to me. Since my children are no longer children and as I look back at all the special things we tried to do for them, it strikes me that what will probably mean the most to them is something very simple that happened without any planning at all. That is what it was in my family, just fireworks out on the hill.
So, as I think about the holiday and all that it means to myself, my family, and really my nation, it all comes down again to sharing time and memories with each other. The memory this year will be of Sara and her mom watching fireworks and talking with each other about all they did in years past. I know that I do not remember some things and some times, but I need to remember how important the little moments and the normal things we do can be. I need to keep living every minute to the fullest.
On another fun note, my daughter is spending her summer as a camp counselor, working with kids at a camp up in northwest Iowa. When I think about memories being built and experiences encountered, I think about all of the things she is doing and all of the ways she is growing. I could best sum this up so far by telling you about the time that she told me she had been teaching kids to sail. When I asked when she had learned, she told me in a very matter of fact manner, "Oh, about 15 minutes before." Let's all keep grabbing life by the horns and keep enjoying every moment.
As they would tell you in Hawaii ... Hang Loose!
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