When I was a kid, the 4th of July was one of my favorite holidays.
If you've read my blog amount of time, you already know that my family growing up was really big on tradition. We did the same thing the same way on every holiday year after year. Everybody was there. Everybody brought the same thing. Everybody sat in the same spot (and, just in case you forgot (which you never did!), Grandmother would always have the place cards set at the table).
I loved the 4th of July for several reasons but mainly because it was the first time since Easter that I knew everybody in the family would be together again all in the same spot. There were eight of us cousins, and we'd fill the pool all afternoon with games and fun. Then we'd eat a picnic supper outside (sans place cards just this once). Pa would always make homemade ice cream, usually peach. And then we'd not-so-patiently wait for it to get almost dark so we could shoot fireworks. That was always such a big deal. It was illegal in the state of Georgia to sell fireworks so that meant someone had to make a trip across the state line to Alabama for fireworks. I can remember always stopping to get fireworks when we went on our family vacation to Florida. We'd all huddle together under the big front porch while Pa and the boys lit up the sky. I'm quite certain that, out of all the holidays, the 4th of July was Pa's favorite. I'll never forget his ice cream. Or the time he jumped into the pool with all of his clothes on. Or how excited he got when it was time to shoot fireworks.
As an adult, the only 4th of July tradition I've held to year after year is my homemade peach pie, crust and all. This year I even got to use Georgia peaches that my parents brought to me when they visited last month. I froze enough to make my annual pie. I'm not much of a baker at all, and I don't necessarily enjoy baking because of the whole exact measurement kind of thing, and even then it never turns out like the picture. So my crust usually leaves some to be desired. I decided to make it easy on myself this year and top the pie with "stars and stripes" instead of the lattice work.
I didn't blog about this, but the kids had the best time with Seth's Father's Day card this year. It was one of those where you "fill in the blank." When they were finished, Hannah Kate looked at it and said, "Most all of what we wrote is about FOOD!"
Anyway, Seth lived up to his superhero name again. The Grillmaster was proud of his ribs.
After we ate, we took the kids to the levee to watch the fireworks over the Mississippi. The last time we took them, I promised I'd never do it again. Oh, the complaining! It was too hot. There were too many bugs. It was too loud. I'm quite certain we haven't been since before Ellie was born. But I told Seth it was time for us to try again. I mean, it's just not the 4th of July without fireworks!
Since we've been homeschooling, I've had the opportunity to study American history all over again. History was, by far, my least favorite subject in school. I memorized dates to pass the test, and that was it. But now I appreciate it so much more, and some of my favorite reads the last several years have been memoirs and historical fiction. Having said that, I've recently read several memoirs of Jews who survived the Holocaust, one of which was All But My Life by Gerda Weissmann Klein. Oh. my. That book was intense. I just cannot even begin to imagine. At the end of the book, she describes what it was like the first time she saw an American soldier, the man who rescued her and ultimately became her husband. I wish I had the book so I could quote it to you (I checked it out from the library). And then she talked about what it was like to move to America. Her description of the day of her rescue was quite haunting. But it also made me see my own country in a whole new light, especially our military and the men and women who have willingly sacrificed their lives all across the globe for freedom. Not just freedom for our own country but freedom for others, too.
That word, freedom, has become a big word for me this year. And not just from the stand point of the "home of the free" either. But that's another post for another day. (And I think this is the first time EVER I've posted a picture of myself on here without makeup . . . and why do I even feel the need to point that out?!)
So this time watching fireworks on the levee was much better than the last, and I'm pretty sure we'll go back next year, too. The kids seemed to enjoy it. (But I still think I was way more excited about fireworks as a kid than they ever have been.) Maybe it will become our tradition.
July 4 was on a Wednesday this year, and Seth's company gave them the next day, too, as a holiday. That was nice. Until you consider returning to work on Friday. Needless to say, that didn't happen. We ended up at the lake instead.
When I was a kid, we spent every Saturday and even some days during the week that my dad wasn't working at the lake. Most summers we'd also spend a week at Lake Burton in the north Georgia mountains. I don't remember how old I was when Daddy bought our boat. I also don't remember how old I was when I learned how to ski, but I think I was eight. Needless to say, I lived for summers and those days at the lake. We'd swim and ski and tube and eat and swim and ski and tube some more. We'd go home at the end of the day a little sunburned, dog tired and slap happy.
My parents still have their boat. We first took the kids out to the lake to go skiing in 2014. They pitched a fit, and ever summer since, we've had to plan a trip to the lake with my parents when we go to Georgia. We've not been this summer because there hasn't been time between baseball, VBS and birthdays. After that trip in 2014, we bought a tube and ski rope. I don't know why. We don't have a boat. So the tube and the rope have been sitting in the storage room ever since. Well, not anymore.
My dad used to say we drug my brother all over the lake, and he never would've stopped had my parents not made him so somebody else could have a turn. Mason is definitely following in the footsteps of his Uncle Rob.
Hannah Kate in recent years has become much more cautious that she originally was. She even tried to ski that first time in 2014. But not since then. And, this time, she'd ride the tube only if I drove the boat. So her Daddy got on with her.
Now, speaking of me driving the boat, that's not something I really have any experience with at all. I'm really not even interested in that. I much prefer to be the passenger. But Seth really wanted to ski. Well, not only do I not have any experience driving the boat, but I have certainly never pulled anyone up on skis before. I knew all those years riding along with my parents that I had to floor it and then back off once the skier was up. I'm proud to say I got Seth up the very first time I tried! (He told me later that I did good except that I didn't have the motor straight when I took off. Oops.)
The girls were glad when all the skiing and tubing finally stopped. All they wanted to do was jump in.
Since that first time in 2014 that Mason first tried to get up on skis, we've been back once each summer with my dad, and he has tried each time. But Mason doesn't really persevere a whole lot if something isn't immediately going his way. So he's never really been up on skis before. I finally convinced him to give it a try again. I reminded him of everything his Pop always told him in the water. And then he got up (and stayed up!) on his very first try! We pulled him for a minute or so and then he fell. He refused to do it again, but he can now finally say he can ski.
And this one . . . well, this is her idea of skiing.
This day at the lake was one of my favorite days of the whole year. It reminded me of those idyllic days of my childhood, those days at the lake that were my favorite. And, not only that, but it was such a welcome respite from the days of busy-ness and schedules that I feel like have dominated our summer, our lives really. It was a day to just be . . . be with my family. And laugh and play. Although only for a day, it was a much needed change of scenery, change of pace. The children have already asked to do it again.
And . . . I almost didn't do it . . . but just for kicks I decided to see if my forty year old self could still get up on those skis. Not only can I still ski, but I can even wave at the same time!
