That Good Old Summertime

This past Independence Day brought this ageing observer back a few years into a misty and pleasant past in America. The emotional trip started when a nice lady offered to have me help her pick fresh blackberries from a vine in my back yard. Remembering similar excursions with my late mother started my reminiscences.

There were the ball games to watch this exciting season. Coming down to midway when we're all anticipating another All-Star Game, one thinks of past games played by storied heroes whose exploits keep alive all the talk about fabled deeds then as now. Then there have been the barbecue pits sending their call to hungry folk in thousands of back-yards over the countryside. (Not to mention the discharge of fireworks to shatter the peace of yet another celebration of America's birthday.)

This year we sat at a city park in lawn chairs watching and listening to a home-town band playing well into a summertime sunset -- red and orange, promising a new clear day on the morrow. At the home of friends we partook of ice-cream and fresh strawberries. Cell phones were not invented in this observer's teen ages or even later years. This time, though, we called and stood by for return calls all over the country wishing the kids and other kin a happy Fourth. Nor did we neglect the news -- all of it a mixed bag of hope and anxiety over the path our poor country is taking. And, accordingly, we turned to the God in Whom we trust, asking for guidance and a large portion of His mercy.

We didn't have TV back then either. This year, however, we enjoyed the Capitol show early in the evening and the Boston Pops later with stellar music and unforgettable fireworks. Kids everywhere played their games while adults watched over their organized activity in school yard diamonds in every small town. For what more could any sensible person want than to live here...in this blessed land peopled by good solid citizens who love this home of the brave? Happy 233rd, America!