Summer Reflections

One of my older children asked me yesterday what the date was.  When one is not in school everyday, and  Mondays feel like Fridays, it is difficult to keep up with specifics like dates.  As I heard myself answer, "July 16th", I felt a mild sense of panic.  The middle of July means the middle of summer vacation....where had June gone?  July 16th....really?.....already?
I began to ponder what we had done with our summer thus far and couldn't help but laugh when I reflected back on our Fabulous Fourth.  The Historic Caldwell Fourth of July Parade has been a part of our yearly celebration since my daughter was born 17 years ago, but feels a bit more ingrained since we moved to the community almost 9 years ago. 
Caldwell is literally an intersection, with a wonderful Quik Stop called Handy Andy's on the corner.  When Andy answers the phone, even when I don't share my identity when asking if they sell cream cheese for instance, he'll respond,  "Just a minute, Kristal.  Let me check on that for you."  Handy Andy's sits on the corner of two North Carolina highways, NC57 and NC 157, and is the hub of the parade commotion.  Although both highways are major thoroughfares in these parts, traffic is shut down completely for an hour or so on July 4th each year....all traffic, that is, but  bicycles, horses, and the like!
The parade begins with an announcement to all who have gathered in the July heat to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance and to place your hand over your heart.  Don't you just love a small town where one doesn't have to worry so much about being politically correct?  Most years one of the neighbors brings a pick-up truck full of buckets of sunflowers that she shares with many of the female spectators, young and old alike, as we all wait for the line up to pass by.
In the past, my children and their cousins who live next door have decorated their own bikes with all the red, white,and blue finery we could muster.   As they have aged however, and grown older and wiser, they have come to realize that riding in the parade means missing out on gathering the plethora of candy that other parade participants barrage the spectators with each year.  Now my 14 and 4 year olds alike bring their baseball caps as "loot bags," and the candy generally lasts around my house until almost Halloween.  (Not bad for a 30- minute parade in the booming metropolis of Caldwell.)
Other than children on bicycles, standard parade entrants always include those driving their prize four-wheelers, John Deere tractors, and beautifully restored old cars.   My father, who graduated from the local high school in 1962, enjoys shouting at his former school mates as they cruise the "parade strip", attempting to guess the year, model , and make of the classy old cars they show off.  Amazingly to me, he's more often right than wrong!
This year,  parade highlights included a barrel train, painted in patriotic colors, 6-7 cars long, each car carting a preschooler, as well as an Elvis look-alike. Maybe Caldwell is where Elvis has been hiding all these years???????
I'm so grateful for our traditions, silly as they may seem to some.  In some unique fashion, traditions create the warp on which the rest of our lives are woven.  They are the strong, tight fibers that hold fast, that help us to define our lives, and that give our children a sense of identity.  They also provide the gift of warm memories - praying your own memories fill more than a memory book this summer.