A First-rate Fourth!
After yesterday’s Fourth of July in the Wildwoods, it’s becoming increasingly easier to believe the boardwalk game stand barkers than the global warming alarmists. An overcast sky and strong winds chilled all planned activities. The strong winds and some rain in the evening cancelled the fireworks extravaganza that was intended to put a final touch on the day’s festivities.
Nothing stopped most people from celebrating in grand style, however, and our front porch barbecue went off pretty much as planned. With careful close management, only one hotdog bun disappeared in the wind, probably to the delight of at least one laughing gull.
My sister and both of my brothers, except for one, attended, and each brought one of two daughters. I learned, indirectly, that my younger brother claimed he wasn’t invited, and that he wouldn’t have attended anyway, because the new dog has made him and his wife agoraphobic. I plead the fifth, even though I don’t drink. He may not have been formally invited, but certainly should have known he would be welcome. Just wait till he gets to be my age and see how well his mind works. Now, what was I saying?
My sister’s youngest daughter brought two friends, and the three of them interacted well with my wife’s youngest sister and brother-in-law’s youngest son and his friend. This is getting way too confusing for me, but I’m pretty sure we were short one guy. All I know is that the five of them fit into the back seat of my sister’s car for a trip to watch the nonexistent fireworks, but they probably made their own mental fireworks or something, but we didn’t really ask. News from old teenagers and young adults travels slowly to those of our generation, who find ourselves pretty much on a don’t need to know basis.
My wife’s other sister showed up with her friend and enough extra food to cause serious bloating. The watermelon still sits there untouched, but most of the cheesecake, potato salad and macaroni salad pretty much disappeared quickly. Her baking skills are wonderful, and sincere praise always produces at least one of our favorites at the next gathering. That’s not really the intent of the accolades, but who am I to complain? She always remembers likes and dislikes, and remembered how much I love blueberries but don’t care all that much for cherry filling, so her cheesecake had both, evenly divided.
My brother’s youngest daughter traveled all the way from Ohio to visit, not with us, but with him, at his summer home a block from our home. I don’t know what she has done with herself to look so much better than the last time I saw her, which was shortly after she was born, more than a couple of decades ago. She’s much taller now, too, and has learned to talk.
My wife, a truly wonderful cook, let everyone else do their thing, with the exception of her great baked beans, grilled peppers and onions, and iced tea, which my sister said tastes just like our late mom’s. That’s not surprising, since many of my relatives tell me my wife reminds them of my mom. That’s a good thing.
I held down the grill, almost literally, lest it blow into the bay, along with the deserting hotdog bun. Operating sans apron, I managed to grill with one hand and eat with the other, and probably won’t go bib-less again.
And that was our day. My wife, sister, and I gathered on the porch to stare off into the direction where the promised fireworks never appeared. We didn’t really expect them, but didn’t want to miss them if they happened. It was the best Fourth in years!