It is said that "every summer has a story."
As summer officially begins, I offer my Alphabet of Summer which will contain memories of stories past and the foundation of tales yet to be experienced.
A = ALL DAY The days of summer seem to just lay out in front of you. The days are long and sunny (yes, that even happens here in Western PA). One too feels an expanse of possibility and positive energy. As a kid, free from school buildings, there was a sense of having all day to play and be outside. It was and is glorious!
B = BEALE REUNION One of the common events of summer is the Family Reunion. My maternal grandparents, Ira and Emma Beale, had eleven children, nine of whom lived to adulthood. When I was a kid we gathered at my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Chuck's home off of the Allegheny River in Kennerdale, PA.
Lessons learned from the Beale Reunion were:
- The women of the Beale line could cook. They nurtured through food. Trust me, I was nurtured well. The food spreads at the reunion were tables long and some of the best food I've ever eaten.
- The power of story. A family that was grounded in the land and gardened, spent significant time in the woods, who hunted and fished, served and sacrificed had great tales to tell. Reflecting, I realize they have shaped all the members of the line and I hope the major themes of family, strength, grace and grit continue in me.
- The hierarchy of the river. After frisbee and food, lounging and lawn darts, we crossed the railroad tracks and headed to the river. There was an order to your time in the water. When you were a toddler to age 6 you were a mud-wallower and your river experience was in the mud near the shoreline. From ages seven to eleven you could venture out of the mud to actually get into water above your waist so as to swim and tread and float. The teenage years and up allowed you to jump off the dock and if so lead go water skiing while Uncle Chuck, pipe in mouth, drove the boat.
C = CANTALOUPE My mother was a major fan of the summer cantaloupe. When they were harvested and put out in bins to be purchased from the local Ambrose Farm we made several trips....sometimes twice a week to buy melons. Of course, mum would zero-in on the near-perfect melon somehow always located in the back of the bin. I would take on gymnastic moves, balancing myself on the lower rung of the bin and reached for the desired melon trying always not to fall into the cantaloupes nor to cause neither the "lesser melons" nor myself to tumble and roll onto the floor.
