Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Founder's Day

If, at the end of my life, someone handed me just the quickest memory of a feeling, and it was the feeling of the fourth Saturday of June during my years in this house, I would know it in an instant.

Even without being reminded of the startling 7:00 a.m. cannon boom; even without seeing myself sunblock up little kids as they wait anxiously on our front lawn, exclaiming over parade entries lined up across the street; even without sending a few of the older kids early to stake out a spot for us; even without experiencing again coming into our cool house with everyone hot and flushed after our walk back from the round-about with camping chairs, a blanket, a baby in a stroller, and bags of parade-thrown salt water taffy in tow; even without the unusual quiet of the house with the youngest one napping and Mike and the older kids off checking out the happenings at the park across the street; and even without the day eventually turning cool as darkness sets in and kids run around outside or watch an outdoor movie on the trampoline while we wait for the fireworks to go off just through our backyard. Even without the exact memory of any of those specific things, the feeling … well, just a second of it opened in my memory and I could exclaim at once, “Oh yes! I know what that is! I know that day! It was our little city’s Founder’s Day!”

Perhaps that’s one of the joys of going through life with such a big family. You get decades of experiencing the same traditions in the same way so that the associated activities and feelings become permanent, recurring stamps of joy in your mortal-experience memory. First it was Abe, Daisy and Goldie eagerly exclaiming about balloons and horses and drums visible from the front lawn. Then they became the ones to carry over chairs and blankets to claim a spot while Penny, Jesse and Anders jumped up and down on the front lawn asking if it was time to go yet. And when they grew into the ones to go set up our spot, there was Summer, Mette and Hans ready to slip into their spot of giddy waiting. And Starling soon behind! Maybe we should have a couple more. :) (Although, at this point, all these traditions can probably slide right into experiencing them with grandkids without any real gap at all. I'll see what Abe, Daisy and Goldie think about that. ...)

The Farm ... (and the van ...)

The Farm always produces magical pictures. But, lest they be too misleading, I might simply mention that the rides to and from The Farm are as far from magical as anything might ever be.

When we first got our giant 12-passenger van, none of our five measly children even had to sit next to a sibling! But as we slowly filled all the seats (and legs simultaneously grew longer) the joy of traveling together in it decreased markedly until now … the close proximity makes our family drives … well … let’s just say if “home can be a heaven on earth” then our van can certainly be the opposite.

But I suppose things like this on the other side of those drives make it worth it.
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