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…Was My Dad’s Favorite Holiday
In the late 1940s and beyond, we lived in the Hodges’ Addition of my hometown of Booneville, Arkansas. From there, looking south, are the Ouachita Mountains. Perched on the northern edge of those mountains was the State Sanatorium where every year that I can recall as a child (weather and financing permitted), the annual fireworks display would be visible for miles around. Every 4th of July since those days, memories of that era come back to me. Family would sit out on the front lawn in the white Adirondack chairs my dad built for my mom, waiting for dark and the arrival of the bright, colorful pyrotechnic displays and listening to the stories of those gathered around. I remember homemade, hand-cranked ice cream, honey in a big mason jar with the honey comb still in it, ice cold watermelon, egg salad sandwiches, firecrackers and sparklers and chasing lightening bugs. All these memories and more, come back to me every year as the country celebrates Independence Day.
Hope everyone makes some of their own wonderful memories this year. Have a safe, fun Fourth of July!
Ah, the memories. You describe it perfectly. With the defeat of Tuberculosis, the state sanatorium, then the leading tuberculosis treatment center in the world, is now gone and the fireworks display has moved to Bearcat stadium. Can't match the old memories, but in the new location, you can get up close and personal. I love the smell of gunpowder in the darkening glow of the summer evening as night overtakes the day.
ReplyDeleteSaw an article today about noodling for catfish in Oklahoma. Reminded me of the time our dad and his two brother's, Bill(the youngest)and Mitchell(The oldest) were doing the same thing down on Coal Creek, except they called it "hogging". Bill was in a pool reaching for a fish in a hole in the bank under the water with dad to one side and Mitchell behind him. Bill grabbed something and pulled it out rapidly. Upon seeing that the "fish" in his hand was really a water moccasin, he immediately screamed and slung it backwards, wrapping it momentarily around Uncle Mitchell's neck. Dad could never tell that story without getting into stitches. I still remember the water hole in Coal Creek where that occurred.
ReplyDeleteThat's exactly as I remember it. The Arkansas State Tuburculosis Sanatorium closed years ago, a victim of its own overwhelming success as the worlds best TB hospital. The fireworks display is now held at Bearcat stadium. Nothing can match the old memories with family but many families now attend and can actually get up very close in the new venue. I'm sure they are making their own special memories.
ReplyDeleteThis article reminded me of other stories from the past about summer. The one that I still get amusement from is a story about dad and uncle Bill and uncle Mitchell. I remembered it in part because I saw an article today in the local newspaper about a catfish noodling contest in Oklahoma. Here in Arkansas we called it hogging.
ReplyDeleteSeems dad, Bill, and Mitchell were down on Coal Creek behind their house and were trying to “hog” fish from the holes in the mostly clay banks of the creek. Bill, the youngest, was in the pool of water with dad to his side and Mitchell behind Bill. Bill reached into the hole just below the water line and grabbed what he thought was a fish, but to his surprise, what he yanked up was a water moccasin which he immediately threw backwards away from him. The snake struck uncle Mitchell in the neck and momentarily wrapped around him. Dad could never tell that story without going into stitches. I’m sure the snake was as surprised as Bill and Mitchell, but dad was not surprised, only hysterical with laughter.
Hope you have safe holiday!
ReplyDeleteDavid:
ReplyDeleteThanks for those memories! Blogger evidently held all your posts in some black hole overnight and miraculously posted them all at once this morning. Blogger is having some major Abort problems with Internet Explorer. "We are aware of the problem and are working on a fix"...uh, huh. Sure you are.
Anyway, thanks for the posts, the memories and the persistence to stay after it till your comments got posted. Hope to hear more from you soon.
The 4th was a big holiday for my dad, too. He was WWII Army Air Corps, and a member of the Drum and Bugle Corps in the years following the war. We’d celebrate the 4th up in the mountains, where my mother’s brother Doug planted his own American flag after the War. I loved the whole flag ceremony, and still vividly remember every detail as those two men taught me flag protocol and passed on their love of country and national service.
ReplyDeleteOn the 4th, three generations gathered on that mountaintop for a celebration of family and country. The men promptly claimed the open meadow for horseshoes and badminton, approached with Olympic zeal! The women spread red-checked tablecloths over picnic tables and grassy spots and kids ran everywhere. Kingsford Charcoal (soaked in enough lighter fluid to start a dozen grills!) was the only charcoal my dad would ever use. He must have cooked a couple thousand burgers and hot dogs over the years.
Sunset brought out the sparklers and Uncle Doug set off an incredible array of fireworks in the upper meadow. Ah, the memories…