ABC

M = Marshmellows I'm talking about the roasted kind. Summer is a time for campfires and campfires are a time for roasting marshmellows and roasting marshmellows lead to smores....and that leads to bliss. As a kid when we had campfires roasting marshmellows was an art. I would take pride in roasting a marshmellow to that perfect golden brown and giving it to my mother. Of course, that was after I had already eaten three myself.

N = Nets Not soccer nets, although that has become a major sport, I never got into it because to me it just seemed like a bunch of kids running in a large field. I have a memory of being a kid and going with my brothers to the creek (be sure to pronounce it correctly) and helping them to catch minnows for fishing. How we did this was two people held a large net tied onto two big pieces of lumber and my job was to run down the middle of the creek yelling and scaring the minnows into the net. Years later, I realize the minnows would have swam downstream into the net; yet, I appreciate my brothers giving their baby sister the opportunity to yell and splash and run down the creek herding minnows.

O = Old Movies Several years ago my mother and I spent many late summer evenings watching old movies. Now this was in the era of the video store and I would rent those wonderful old movies that featured the stars from my mother's youth. I became enamored of Ingrid Bergman; loved the spunk of Katherine Hepburn (my Mom's favorite); and fell under the charm of Cary Grant.

P = Picnic Table Summer is a time to be outdoors. At the House of Snyder literally from Memorial Day through Labor Day we ate, weather permitting, every dinner outside at the picnic table that was under the branches of one of the big pine trees. In the House of Snyder we take our tables very seriously because we are family where the table remains the centerpiece of our life together. My father built the picnic table and it remains a wonderful piece of furniture that is huge and heavy and stained and varnished and weather-proofed. At the start of each summer, he would get his level and make sure the table was perfectly in line. Dad also built a small table that attached to the outside dining room window and served as a place for the dishes and food to sit as it was relayed from the kitchen to the picnic table. Those dinners shared at that picnic table remain a clear and celebrated memory of our family at table.