Sunday, December 31, 2023

NEW YEARS



 

Folks have to be asking how long is she going to be doing this ABC bit....enough already......for good writer's ju-ju, I had to do one more piece with the ABC's.  

Here are my hopes, plans, focus as a new year beckons:

A =       Avoid being an ass moments

B =       Be present

C=        Call…. actively answer it

D=        Disciple, evidence it in action and word

E =       Equity ---- advocate and fight for it

G =       Goals --- set them, pursue them, achieve them

H =       Hope --- maintain it

I =        Instruct --- teach what I know and be open to learn from others

J =        Join in 

K =       Kids --- spend more time 

L =       Laugh --- always

M =      Mum --- honor in living what she taught and shown

N =       New --- claim in the gift of each day….


O =      Organize

P =       Priorities ---- what matters

Q =      Quiet time

R =       Read --- do so in place of screens

S =       Sally --- know me,  live seamlessly

T =       Trust

U =       Unique

V =       Voice, mine is loud so use wisely

W =      Wings, emancipate them and leap

X =       Mystery --- trust it

Y =       Yes --- answer more and experience the moment

Z =       Zeal --- work with passion

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Advent alphabet

 L = LAUGHTER

 

Anne Lamott says, “laughter is carbonated holiness.”  We need to lighten up in our congregations literally and metaphorically.  Amusing stuff often occurs in our worship services and it’s OK to laugh out loud…well…because it’s funny.   During one Christmas Eve Little Lesson (it’s wise to really think those through), a boy unassumingly left the tight circle of children gathered around me, went rogue, walked up the chancel steps to reach the side of the pulpit which he held onto as he left his feet and swung back and forth using some ecclesiastical exercise equipment and yelled, “This is fun!” and encouraged his twin brother to do the same on the lectern side.  It was funny and there was no going back to the lesson of the candy cane. 

 

I am blessed to be of a family that knows how to laugh and understands the healing gift of laughter. In my seventeenth year on November 29 our father died. Understandably, there was a sadness that holiday season.  On Christmas morning, we were in a minor rhythm. After a subdued gift opening done in the emptiness of shared grief, my oldest brother announced that everyone was to “wear” everything they received for Christmas.  The invitation was received, and sweaters and flannels were layered, underwear became “tighty-whitey tossel caps, ceramic angels rested in cleavage, fishing lures and shotgun shells were displayed Poncho Villa style, record albums perched atop heads, socks were on feet and tucked into back pockets, and a softball glove caught a book, a t-shirt and a bag of pistachio nuts.

 

 

still at it......


 K = KRIS KRINGLE

 

When meeting someone the opening questions tend to be where are you from and what do you do.  I’ve been in communities where a third question is who are your people.

In a way answers to these questions are a mini version of one’s origin story.  Hollywood realized early on that origin stories play well at the Box Office.  If there is any doubt, note the summer blockbusters: Barbie and Oppenheimer; seeking to cash in on holiday season movie going there is Wonka.

 

The holiday special, “The Year Without a Santa Claus” tells the story of Kris Kringle, the storybook origin story of Santa Claus and features one of my brother’s most favorite Christmas special characters, Meister Burger Burgermeister.

 

How much do we study and converse on the origin story of Jesus?  Sure, there is the nativity story we know so well, yet take a read through of the Gospel of Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus and the handful of women surprisingly listed in the lineage and known as “The Five Shady Ladies.”    Who were Mary’s parents?  What thoughts raged and spirits clenched in them at their daughter’s news?

 

Origin stories re-member (punctuation intentional) to our roots, our people, our lines, the lives of those who in some way made us the very focus of their lives.  Sometime on a silent night name them.

 

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

J is for....

 

J = JOY
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Have you ever done the “Managing Interpersonal Relationships (MIR) Program?" It’s similar to the more famous Myers-Briggs except MIR has other persons, answer the questions in how they perceive you.  Like Myers-Briggs there are four main quadrants with four sub quadrants.  The big four are clockwise from bottom left: Amiable, Analytic, Driver, Expressive.  

 

I live loudly in the “Expressive-Expressive” corner.

 

I don’t have a poker face.  

I wear my heart on my whole wardrobe.

I am a human muppet.

 

We disciple ourselves to the Christ, who is Love, who has come to dwell with us! I believe we should act as if that is so and show a little…OK, a lot of joy.

 

Because it is so infrequent, I clearly recall three worship moments when the joy present was tangible, felt, buzzing, snapping, humming, there!  


One was during a communion service at Mt. St. Benedict. While walking up to partake with the music soaring, persons went up front in a wonderful weaving pattern, dancing all the way, giving and receiving hugs and smiling big and bright!  


The second was at my home congregation of Freeport when I preached and lead worship and our closing hymn was “Shine, Jesus, Shine!”  The organist was Julliard trained and her playing and our joy was rock concert worthy!  Forget being called the “frozen chosen,” we were the melted and moving in joy!



The third was while pastoring a congregation in Erie, the Feast of St. Nicholas, December 6, was on a Sunday.  Tradition holds that for the Feast of St. Nicholas children would leave their shoes near the fire place and St. Nicholas would fill them with treats.


Along with the children's ministry team we decided to celebrate this tradition.  Prior to coming up front for the "Little Lesson," I asked the kids to remove their shoes and take them to the back of the sanctuary.  They trusted me and followed the request. 

When the little lesson was over and the kids went back to get their shoes they found their footwear filled to over flowing with a variety of candy and chocolate.  The congregation knew the kids had found the surprise when little Michael shouted, "Holy Crap! Look at all this stuff! I'm glad I wore my snow  boots today!"


That unbridled, free, released, honest joy should be the norm in all our celebrations....  


Monday, December 11, 2023

Advent ABC's

 I = IMAGINE


Those of us of a certain age recall the excitement the day the SEARS Christmas catalog arrived.  As the youngest, I waited my turn patiently....OK, I'm sure pouting was involved, some whining and then wisdom to just wait as I knew my siblings would be off to school and the book would be all mine....I'd find the toys section, look at the pictures and dog-ear the pages that contained my desires.

Though, as a kid who cared if the catalog had a title, just show me the goods....yet, I am confident that one of those treasured catalogs was emblazoned with "IMAGINE" on its cover.

Mum, holding steadfast in the engine of the house, the kitchen, would be at the table, catalog in hand, checking each dog-eared page and deciding the economics and enchantment of the selection.  She always came through and Christmas morning was a wrapped pile of delights. 

I don't have to imagine any of the home memories of my childhood and the efforts my mother gave during this holiday season, I see all clearly and can readily hear mum's voice and I miss her in the down deep places where the good stuff is. Blessed be for the gift of her;  


Sunday, December 10, 2023

H is for.....

 H = HANDEL's MESSIAH

The student pastor/choir director at my home church determined for the Fourth Sunday of Advent interested congregants would sing the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah as the sung benediction at the 11 am worship service.

Handel's Messiah is as much a part of the Advent and Christmas season as is Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Ballet. Because we didn't have the floor space in the sanctuary we went with the singing piece.

I signed up to be part of this effort and cleared my schedule to participate in the rehearsals.  

I am not gifted in the talent of music or song.  I am one always singing harmony with the definition of harmony being any note your neighbor is not singing and, trust me, my deaf tone self never has anyone singing the same note....not gonna happen. 

The first rehearsal, the choir director asked the 25-30 persons gathered to arrange ourselves in our vocal ranges. Because "sounds only dogs can hear" was not an option, I knew the timbre of my voice was deep and joined the altos. 

Because Handel's Hallelujah Chorus relies on knowing when to sing your part and when to come in, I was instructed to follow Helen, the alto choir member who was quite the character and had begun to lose some of her mental acuities. Perfect, what could possibly go wrong. We practiced and I deemed it a success when I did not come in too early and that my fellow altos surrounding me did not politely suggest that maybe instead I should help to pass out the programs.  In fact, in recruiting more church members to join in the singing of the Hallelujah Chorus, the choir director's sale's pitch was, "Sally's doing it....you certainly can do it."

The performance on that Fourth Sunday in Advent many decades ago went off wonderfully and as I sung I was misty-eyed and moved by the power of the music, the connection of the choir, and the shared experience with my home congregation.

During the beginning of Luke's Gospel, it's like a Broadway musical, everyone is singing.....so should we....sing out this season and bring the joy!




Saturday, December 9, 2023

Advent Alphabet

 


G = GO!

I’m all in for many, many more silent nights during the Advent and Christmas season.  Yet, there is too much to do, lists upon lists, preparation at home and work and church…it’s a hectic time.   Those views being true, then why of all the better Christmas-y “G” words did I select Go????

 

Because the story hinges on the shepherds, rough, smelly, poor, taken-for-granted if noticed at all, loyal to their flock folk.  These are my kind of people.  Of course, it is to these folks the angels appear and sing the message of the birth of Jesus.  Once the last note concludes the next word spoken from angelic voices is “Go.”

 

True, it’s not every day one is serenaded by an angelic chorus and after that experience pretty much whatever was asked next had a decent chance of being followed…. yet, with sheep in tow and the cold of the night air making their breath visible, the shepherds went and found and witnessed. 

Advent Alphabet

 F = FAMILY PHOTO

In our family we mark memories from before and after our father got a camera.

Initially the photos were nature pictures taken in his many walks and time spent in the outdoors.  Then, dad started taking the family pics and soon that lead to preparing, posing and photographing for the clan for the traditional family Christmas photo with hopes of said photo being the family Christmas card.  

 

As you will note, we had only one year when the family Christmas photo was taken. 

The photo never made it outside the family until decades later for a kick I used the photo for my annual Christmas card:






 

 

 

Advent Alphavet

 E = EMMANUEL

 

I’m a small town gal from a rural county…. those are my roots, it’s me.  During an organizing meeting this week with Community Health Organizers (CHO’s) in the Western PA rural counties someone shared that “city dwellers need to know the rural experience,” to which I shared, “I know it, those are my people. I’ve spent many days participating in that odd ritual of going to someone’s garage or barn, looking at a gutted, hung-up dead deer and exclaiming, ‘sure is a nice one.’”   Why one does that remains a mystery, yet daughters and siblings of hunters do it.

 

That introduction is to say that when attending college in downtown Pittsburgh I was very much out of my element.  I was scared. Uncomfortable.  I caught the bus each day and as I walked the Pittsburgh streets playing in my Walkman was the cassette of Amy Grant’s album, UNGUARDED.  I played over and over and over her song, “Everywhere I Go” as a rhythmic reminder that in the mean city streets I was not alone, yes, God was with me.

 

That is the faith statement of Christmas ---- Emmanuel, God with us.  That always brings me pause and awe and comfort…. God with me, with you, with our community, with our world.  Amazing.  Almost to the point of being so amazing why we hardly live as if it were so…….

.Advent Alphabet

 


D = DARKNESS and LIGHT

This year’s Hannukah celebrations and many synagogue leaders have commented that as the war rages they were making a point to bring as much light as possible into their celebrations; congregants are encouraged to come dressed in neon colors.    

 

I also understand the power of one candle. 

 

When I lived in Erie, I was often at the beach.  During one Summer Solstice celebration started at dusk, I lit my candle, placed it in the sand and went for a walk on the beach near the water line.  I walked for about 30 minutes, dusk became early nightfall and as I walked back to where my backpack and shoes were left, I paused. The light from one single, thin, 4-inch candle provided a wide circle of light that was noticed from 100 yards away. 

 

Many candles provide much light, of course.  Yet, one candle near the waters blazes. 

 

In these days one person with hope and a desire for peace can illumine the present moment.  Just one.  

 


Tuesday, December 5, 2023

C = CANDY


Rightly so, this season is one of cookies --- exchanges, trays, bake togethers, certain to put out when folks come to visit.  Trust me, I am a fan of cookies in any season, anywhere, anytime.  

 

Yet, let us also celebrate candy! 

 

Kudos to whomever realized the idea of the small candy cane --- perfect to hang over a mug of hot cocoa and melt into the chocolate.

 


Every year in my stocking was the “Book of Lifesavers,” an ingenious idea of a cardboard book-shaped container that held fiver rolls of Lifesavers.

 

Let every kid who ever wondered if getting coal instead of candy was a real thing for bad behaviors rejoice over the wonderful invention of coal candy, a lovely licorice-flavored treat complete with bucket and hammer!      


 

I am one who always carries in my pocket individually wrapped wintergreen lifesavers or other hard candies, most likely cinnamons or peppermints. I trace the beginning of this behavior back to the Christmas of my 10thyear when my brother gifted me a two-pound bag of candy!  It was glorious!  All that hard candy --- the colors! The flavors!  Wonka himself never knew such bliss!

 

B = BLOW DART GUNS

 

My mother was and remains a total, amazing gift that we were blessed to have as our mum. She shone even more during the holidays; from decorations, to cookies, to meals, to rituals both new and old, to the gifts she thoughtfully purchased, Dorothy made Christmas amazing for her family.


As this post continues, it’s important to note that ours is a family of hunters. In our family, one quickly learns to ask “What season is it?”  When her two grandsons were the ages of five and nine, Mom decided to buy them a gift she knew they'd really enjoy...a total Dorothy Snyder thing to do.   The grandsons’ dad, my brother, is a successful hunter and he shared the love of hunting with his sons. Keeping that in mind, Dorothy decided a great gift for the grandsons would be....of course.....blow-dart guns. 




She honestly thought she was purchasing a toy....nope....Mom bought the grandsons real blow dart guns ---- the kind with the metal tipped darts....serious stuff.


Of course, the grandsons loved the gift! My brothers thought it was tremendous and quickly assembled a large cardboard box, blew up balloons and affixed them to the target.  A good portion of Christmas day was spent hearing the "pfffft" "smack" and "pop" of an actual blow dart being shot and hitting its target.  Echoing in the background was my mother's refrain, "O, my....I really thought it was a toy....I would never have bought a real weapon for two small children......" 


Happy Holidays from a family of hunters…….

 




Monday, December 4, 2023

A = ALMOST

 



From a children’s perspective the Advent season is one of building energy and excitement and the excitement is expressed in questions:

 

·      Is it time to open the day’s tab on the Advent calendar? Mum’s answer: “Almost”

·      Is it time to take the cookies out of the oven? Mum’s answer: “Almost”

·      Is it time to bring down the decorations from the attic?... Mum’s answer: “Almost”

·      Is it time to go to get the tree? Mum’s answer: “Almost”

·      Is it time to open gifts? Mum’s answer:  “Almost”

 

As kids learn to tell time I think there is also a course for parents, am and pm in parent time is taught to answer “almost” and “not yet.”

 

Almost bides time. We do that during this season of Advent, biding time until the celebration of Christmas.

 

Almost will be replaced with that wonderful answer of “YES.”  For persons long waiting and individuals always coming close yet never fully there…. the Advent season is the universal YES to creation, to communities of faith, to individuals. 

 

The journey of Advent can be summed up in five words: Almost.  Yes.  Now.  Let’s go!

Sunday, November 12, 2023

A little bit on hope

 

It seems to be a pattern, the morning, I’m boiling water for oatmeal, NPR on the radio in the kitchen, and I hear this line: so many hopes and dreams were smashed and rearranged.”  

 

To smash something involves a focused force, an unforeseen drop of a fragile thing, one of those moments when there is a discernible and distinct pause, a holding of one’s breath before the hit and the shatter and the scatter of pieces. Depending on the sentimental and, I suppose, monetary value of the item and severity of the break, one might gather the pieces and rearrange them, glue them back together….or, determine it's not worth the effort and throw it away.

 

Hopes rearranged are the stuff of tv movies of the week and memoirs that get Oprah’s seal. At the foundation of the rearranging is a hope you can’t toss out. In many instances those types of hopes are the ones we reserve for children and maybe some relationships, ideas and ideals of community, freedom, democracy, church.

 

To rearrange that which has been smashed takes time and precision, one really has to want to put it back together and the effort it takes can become obsessive and it’s tiring, stretches the muscles, strains the eyes, makes some people ask why are you wasting your time.

 

Though brittle and in times surprisingly breakable, hopes and dreams have a buoyancy to them, they keep afloat.  Yet, during these days of wars and rumors of war, an empire nearing collapse, othering everyone who is not like us, widening gaps between wealthy and poor I recall the song lyric, “where hope is currency.”   What can one buy with hope currency? Do we save it for a bigger investment? Is it possible to spend it foolishly and if so when does one realize it? Is hope the coin of our realm? 

Sunday, October 29, 2023

....and how are the children?


 


“….and how are the children?”  

There are cultures where this question is asked upon meeting a friend, gathering in homes, the opener for worship services.   I suggest we make this question “….and how are the children?" be foundational, a must ask at every budget meeting on every level in every institution and at each policy meeting and commissioner planning session and stewardship drive and scripture study.  With that question “….and how are the children?” before us at the start and re-minded throughout the meeting and gathering perhaps we will be wiser, kinder, gentler, saner.

 

Let us try it on a personal and small-scale way.  

 

By children I mean the ones we birth and bear (up and with); little ones who share our name our genes our hopes; the ones we call by name; the kids we pass on our way to work as they wait for the school bus; the ones who get their names in the paper for athletic, educational or artistic achievement; those whose names and images accompany news of their murder; those who are always a significant portion of those described as “innocent casualties.”

 

As the horrors of war shock our screens…..ask the question….demand an answer……..ask it often to those who have the power to answer in ways that can stop the killing, the hunger, the harm.

 

“….and how are the children?”

Monday, October 9, 2023

Kindess works

 While eating my pomegranate pop-tart and drinking a cup of coffee, I, as I often do, had the radio on tuned to NPR. The story was a first person report on a woman who was traveling with "Doctors without Borders" and their work in the Mediterranean Sea. 

They came across a small wooden boat with 167 migrants who were cold, hungry, thirsting, afraid; the Doctors without Borders brought the migrants on board and provided food and blankets.  Nothing out of the norm there.....is what one would expect. Then the reporter said, "and they also shared smiles and hugs which most likely were the first moments of kindness these people had received in weeks and months of their journey." 

There is very much that is troubling, terrorizing and tumultuous  in our world; the horrors of the Hamas attack on Israel, this era of refugees and identity rights and debates, addiction, deaths of despair, loneliness, violence in the rhetoric of our leaders and the shootings in our homes, communities, neighborhoods.  How many times do we say "something needs to be done, we have to do something."

I am not back lit as I type this nor is this an embodied Hallmark card. I do believe we are called to do what we can in our corners of the world.  I believe action builds on action and change occurs, the issue is what kind of actions? Life affirming or fear-filled division.

Along with "Sally, do you know how loud you are?" when I was on an angry rant, my mother would frequently start to list to me the Fruits of the Spirit: peace, joy, forbearance, love and so forth or she would just remind and seek to re-center me with two of the gifts: kind and gentle. Of course, she did this non-judgy and well, gently and kind.  

Did it work? It caused me to pause, catch my breath, cease the rant and...yes, try a more gentle approach. 

Instead of being mean and callous and reveling in our nastiness which sadly leads to far too many likes and clicks, perhaps we could set the intention to "make kindness the norm" and do so in each and every encounter, post, interaction, words and actions.  Hey, it's a worth a try.....something needs to change.....one action of kindness and gentleness leads to another and another and so on and so on.....

Friday, September 22, 2023

Getting to Z

 H = Hoagies 

If you ask any member of my large family what they identify with our Aunt Jean the answer would be pizza. She was the pizza maker and it remains some of the very best pizza I've ever eaten.  This treat was a frequent staple during the fall and winter seasons.

Perhaps because she was the closest in age to my mother, the youngest of the family, we also had Aunt Jean's  hoagies in the summer months. We'd go to the deli and buy hoagie rolls, lunchmeat at the local butcher, lettuce, onion and tomato provided by our garden and the whole sandwich topped off by a special sauce made by Aunt Jean.

In conversations with my many cousins when I mentioned these hoagies made by Aunt Jean, to a person my cousins look at me quizzically....they never had the the pleasure, the hoagies were Snyder experiences....must be rough for the rest.  Here's to the blessing of birth order.



I = Ice Cream

My mother and I would welcome the start of the summer season by having a banana split. Throughout summer, we'd make frequent trips to the local frozen custard stand, DEL's, and every trip mum always got raspberry custard, when she splurged it was a butterscotch sundae.  Me? Then and now, I remain a chocolate and vanilla twist girl only deviating when banana custard is on the menu and twisting that with chocolate.

When the family would go on our summer vacation to spend a week camping in the woods near the Tionesta River, the plan was when we drew near the "Shannon-Dell" ice cream stand my job was to express that I needed to use the restroom. Clearly, this was not the most creative nor intellectually lofty plan and our parents were definitely not fooled.  Yet, I was daddy's little girl, spoiled and he would stop...every time...worked like a charm. 

Of course, when eating ice cream in the heat of summer older siblings play an essential role. As the ice cream melts, drips and starts to lean, an older brother would take the cone, lick the ice cream into order and hand it back to me...all good; not the most sanitary, yet, very effective.


J = JULY 


This is the month that symbolizes summer.  The Fourth of July, baseball season in full swing (pun intended), summer camps catching their stride, picnics and gatherings and reunions all on calendars the month is a synonym for the season of summer.




K = KOOL AID 

Do they even still make Kool-Aid? 

My family's summer beverage was Lemon Blend, iced tea and for the kids the occasional cup of Kool-Aid. It was the staple of Vacation Bible Schools, Little League post-season picnics and neighborhood weenie roasts. 

Of course as a kid, the bright, primary colors and its taste and association with the great times of summer makes Kool-Aid the beverage. Because of these things, most kids, I was one, open a pack of Kool-Aid for a taste test.  BLAH!  SOUR!  Perhaps the fact that it is the ridiculous amount of sugar that makes Kool-Aid drinkable....probably that is why Kool-Aid most likely is no longer the kids' beverage of summer.



L = LIGHT  

Summer is high energy and that energy is gleaned from sunshine. Why did it always seems one's courage ran stronger during summer?  Perhaps all this light made us finally jump off the high dive at the community pool; step up to the plate with the clear intention to swing the bat; walk around the cemetery at night...all alone....; say YES to the questions that began "would you want to ...."


M = MOWING GRASS 

I eulogized a gentleman of whom it was said he loved to mow his lawn because it was  job that he could always look and see progress.

A good point, there is something about mowing grass that readily allows one to see what yet needs to be done and what has been accomplished.  After cutting the grass it is a good feeling to grab a cold beverage, take a seat on the deck and admire a job well done and that thankfully is over until the next week...sigh....

I have a major fear of snakes (see the entry in the 2021 summer alphabet). Be it king cobra, anaconda, rattle or garter I despise each and all equally. When cutting the large expanse of grass at my childhood home, I always kept a look out for any type of movement or slither and spotting it, have been known to leave the mower and run inside imploring one of my brothers to finish the task. It was only recently that I realized (truth) the fear-inducing movement I saw in the grass beside the mower which I thought was a snake was actually the air released from the mower.....


N = NERF

No, I'm not talking football. Nerf was what my brother called the swimming hole where we spent many a summer cooling off.  

Put on your suit, grab your towel, cross the highway (looking both ways of course) and walk down the rock strewn trail through the woods down to the creek.  The Nerf swimming hole had easy access and was a decent depth.  Of course, it was only many years into adulthood that I realized what we swam in...the water was never clear....cold, yes; rocks and crayfish and minnows, definitely....Board of Health approved...definitely not.


O = OUTDOORS 

My father loved the outdoors. He was the ringer who helped me ace my third grade trees assignment, one of those persons who quickly and easily identifies trees by their bark and leaves.  Some of my fondest memories of my dad are spending time at the large garden in the upper field, he and I would survey the status of the garden, weed a bit and then sit under the large oak tree and drink cold water from a glass jug with a rope attached so my father could easily carry it by slinging it across his shoulders. 

During summer I am most content outside in a park on a trail in the woods at a quiet place near a stream or lake.


P = PICNIC TABLE    

At my mother's funeral service, the church pastor remarked on the large, wooden dining room table.  It was a perfect metaphor for my mother and her hospitality and amazing skills in cooking, baking, nurturing.  For my father an apt image would be the large, dad-made picnic table.  This was an impressive table, large, stained, secured. From mid-May through late September we ate our dinners at this table. Dad even made a shelf that he secured to the house under the dining room window so we could put it up and make the carrying of the food from kitchen to picnic table easier. 

Q = QUIZ 

My line are definitely porch people. On the glider, the Adirondack chairs, the glider chair we gathered regularly and at some point my brother would break out a brain teaser quiz book. Making sure all could play and answer and feel ones brain sufificiently teased he would announce for whom was the question or puzzle thus giving the kids a fair chance to impress with their knowledge.   
   
R = RADIO

Call me old....I am...I won't mind.  That fact stated allow me to sound rather crotchety and say better than a Walkman (see, told you I was old) or ear buds connected to one's mobile phone, the very best way to listen to music is communally.  One learns tolerance and patience until it's your turn to pick your music.  In the summertime, being outside at the local park, or on the porch and hearing a radio tuned to the Pirates game is bliss.



S = ST. GEORGE    

How it came to be named this, I do not know, yet, it was how we referred to the home of my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Chuck.  Located near the Allegheny River in the small town of Kennerdale this was where the Beale line gathered on the Fourth of July for our family reunion. 

Memories of those gatherings are an amazing spread of food placed on multiple tables, my cousin Chucky's grilled chicken, throwing frisbee, tossing the football, playing lawn darts and after dinner had settled heading to the river.  

The Beale line established a where-in-the-river one was permitted to swim hierarchy.  For several years along with my younger cousins I was a mud-wallower, allowed only to wade, splash and sit in the shallows.  As one aged and displayed skill at staying afloat, one could go into waters a bit deeper. Having learned to swim, one was free to jump off the dock.  This ebb and flow maturation process taught patience, goal setting and the joy of mud.

T = TIONESTA RIVER 

As noted my father loved the outdoors and therefore our summer vacations were spent camping in the woods near the Tionesta River. This was serious camping, no camp site wussery for the Snyders; we hiked over mile down hill into the deep woods. As we traversed the rock-strewn ground we carried our gear, tents, skillets, a dutch oven and our food and supplies for a week spent in the woods.

Jobs were assigned and as a little kid mine was to place the pop cans into the sand of  the mountain stream beneath the big rock. I looked forward to this task every summer, the cold water, the soft sand, going under the ledge of the rock to bury cans and keep them extra cool.

U = UNWIND

Compared with the rest of the world, we Americans take far fewer vacations. We tend to pride ourselves in lengthy to-do lists, multitasking acumen and long overtime hours worked.   Clearly we need a reminder to ease up and relax.  Deck time, beach moments spending days staring at the ocean, the summer game of baseball which is easy and lends itself to conversation and working to get everyone home safely, the ease of hot dogs on the grill, inner tubing on the river or floating in the pool, summer just is one giant nudge telling us to unwind.....


V = VOLLEYBALL    Once the "you know I played and coached the sport" ego is wisely put away, picnic volleyball is really quite delightful.  Everyone one can play and it's a total kick when the oldest family member takes the court and owns the net.  Of course, in my family, we are not blessed with height and our vertical jumps are maybe 3 inches....and that's a combined score.....


W = WATER  

Kiddie pools, creeks of questionable water sources, community pools, rivers, lakes and oceans....

Water balloons, squirt gun battles, hoses and buckets.....

Splashing, floating, lounging, swimming, treading.....  


X =  for MYSTERY

Schedules should be mostly non-existent during summer and we should keep our option open billed with the possibility of a summer day to unfold as it will.....


Y = YARDS

My mother really enjoyed the summer car ride.  On our way to the local Ambrose Farmer's Market for her cantaloupe fix, we always took the long way through the back roads and the fields and the big yards.  When a large lawn is newly mowed (and I didn't have to do it) that is an image of summer and a witness to one of the greatest blessings of our nation which is our wide-open spaces.

Z = ZUKES


I know...I know.....zukes or zucchini has been used previously in the summer alphabet. Yet, there are so damn many of these gourds every summer one just has to keep writing about 'em.

We grew or own and received many from neighbors and friends.  My mother would gratefully receive the gifted zucchini and then proceed to use it in salads, pickle it, make zucchini bread, chocolate zucchini cake, use the zukes for the noodles in lasagne and I know if she could have found a way to proof it we would've bottled it.