I have pictures in my mind of my brother Critt and I standing or sitting beside each other as we watched life. He was always to the left of me.
We watched people and vehicles move up and down Wentworth Street in Charleston. I paid attention to the women and their clothes, and he trained his eyes on the cars and bicycles. Our grandparents had a second-floor apartment in a huge house, and the front porch ran the length of it. A sturdy balustrade kept us in, but there was room to look through.
At Lulu’s farm in Kentucky, we climbed a rickety, three-rail fence to watch the cows walk from the barn to the field. Their shifting bodies reminding us of walking boats. We never understood how they knew it was time to wander back to the barn to be milked in the afternoon. It seemed they could tell time. They were always a bit curious about us.
Critt liked to watch the planes at the Downtown Spartanburg Airport, and he was content to while away more time there than I was. We would lean over the short concrete wall or sit on its top and wonder where the planes were going. I tended to guess Charleston, and he would guess Texas. He enjoyed western movies and programs like our Daddy.
On Labor Day weekends, we always went to Hendersonville, NC. Lots of family lived there, and the Apple Festival was the place to be. We had the best seats for the parade, because we sat on the curb. With knees under our chins, we waved our flags and clapped for the different performers.
Childhood memories are often seen through rose-colored glasses. I had never thought about the ways that he and I practiced watching the various processions in our small worlds until recently. We enjoyed the exhibits and learned about variety, as well as appreciated its diversity. It was all so captivating.
What about packing a basket with fried chicken, watermelon, pimento cheese sandwiches, deviled eggs, and potato chips? In a cooler, put gallons of lemonade and sweet iced tea. Then find a cool place under a shade tree or beside a stream and lay a red-and-white gingham tablecloth for a picnic.
Or even take your lunch and sit in the back yard. It’s the being outside and enjoying nature, even if the ants show up. Don’t forget the chocolate chip cookies for dessert.
Doesn’t this sound like a good way to celebrate September?
As someone said, ““A picnic is an opportunity to escape the ordinary and embrace the extraordinary beauty of the outdoors.”
Sheila Ingle 