A story by my niece

With apologies to Sgt@Arms for not getting her permission to reprint this first, I was looking for a way to recognize my mother's birthday today and found this in my closet o'family history. It is really a nice memory of a lovely day. It won't mean much to any of you outside our family, but for the rest of us, enjoy!



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July 5, 1993
by Jenny

It was one of those perfect sunny summer days when everything just falls into place.
The leafy green breeze gently blew our scattered family in for a perfect landing around the Matriarch’s patriotic dinner table.
Lunch at one o’clock.

Eleven place settings in red, white and blue.
Tiny flags and Queen Anne’s lace in a vase in the middle.
Steam rising off platters and piles of Grandma food: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, home-made bread, lemonade.
“These green beans were still on the vine this time yesterday,” and the last bowl was placed and we sat.
Heads bowed, mouths dripping, we joined hands and waited for a blessing.
Papaw looked around at his children and theirs for a long moment...and began...
“Very seldom are all of my children and grandchildren all around the same table at once.
This means a lot to your mother and I -- we really appreciate it.
I think today we’ll just have a silent prayer.”
The breathless silence that followed almost stopped my beating heart.
We were all very grateful indeed when he uttered “Amen.”

Such a feast, such a feast! Feast Feast Feast Feast!
We dined and we drank and the sisters all giggled,
We feverishly swallowed and sipped.
We chewed and we talked and reloaded our plates
While Grandma told the same story twice.
Then she looked out over her half-moon spectacles and picked the slowest eater
“Edward!” she said, “What do you need?”
“Nothing right now - I’m fine.”
“Do you need some more chicken? Coleslaw? Applesauce?”
“No thanks, Mom, I’m fine.”
“Pass this chicken down to Edward,” she decided. “Jennifer! What do you need? Green beans? Corn?”
“Doing alright down here, Grandma.”
“Pass these beans down to Jenny,” she said.
My arm twisted, I loaded more beans on my plate and forced them into my more than content stomach.
The meal went on, and on, bowls emptying one by one, plates slowly clearing.
I leaned back, belly up, in my creaking chair.
We were all so full our eyeballs were bulging when Grandma called, “Gooseberry pie?”
The rest of the day we were scattered about on couches and hammocks and rockers in the shade
Trying to get comfortable around our cross-eyed stomachs.
It wasn’t too hot, the green breeze sighed on, and we chatted and read and slept.
The kids set off fireworks when the sun was setting, all golden around the apple trees.
No one thought about supper, but instead a projector was brought down and dusted off.
And with a box of 8 millimeters and a crabby old screen, we sat hushed in the couch and the floor, we watched...
Aunt Alice, three years old, with two braids down her back, rode her tricycle up and down a sunny sidewalk, post WWII. Papaw swept her off her trike and into the air, and laughing, caught her again. Grandma appeared, young and embarrassed, and led little Alice inside.
More films were to be shown. Liz’s first birthday, Grandpa Ed at the post office, Robinette family reunions, Fourth of July - ‘51 - this was saved for last. We loaded it on, and it flickered and flipped. We taped it and tried it again and were taken to July 4th, fourty-two years past.
It was a lawn in Niangua, Missouri, decked out with Adirondack chairs and flags, in the sun.
Long dead, dearly missed old timers peered and waved at us from their yard, all smiley and lively and young.
They just waved and smiled, so happy on the Fourth.
A day for their family, for friends and food, and fireworks.
A day for our family too.
Forever,
Amen.

*July 4th fell on a Sunday in 1993, so the celebration was put off until the 5th so church activities wouldn’t be messed up.