When I think of the Fourth of July, I think about the celebrations at Aunt Edith and Uncle Howard’s farm. They lived in the Saragossa community and growing up, every Fourth of July was spent at their house. She was my mom’s sister.
Their house sat on a dirt and gravel road and when the summer was hot and dry, the car would send up a rooster tail of dust in its tracks. Aunt Edith and Uncle Howard had three sons and a daughter. Two of the sons were near my age and I spent many a summer break at their farm, working in the fields and fishing in their ponds. I think that is where the seed was planted in my heart that I would someday live on a farm with a barn.
Going to their house for the Fourth was the party of the summer for all the cousins. There was always a game of baseball or some other fun time to be had, including fireworks. Firecrackers and bottle rockets were everywhere; I am amazed no one ever made a trip to the local ER.
There were always kids turning hand-cranked ice cream freezers. No one minded that job; because those freezers were full of peach, butter pecan, black walnut, strawberry and vanilla ice cream. Sometimes there was lime sherbet or pineapple coconut, it was the best ice cream I ever had.
Of course everyone got brain freeze, but it was so worth it.
Jilda loved Aunt Edith and I believed Aunt Edith loved Jilda. She loved to hear us sing and play the guitar. Many years ago, Jilda and I were asked to perform at an outdoor even at the local hospital in Jasper. It was in August, , hot as, well it was hot. The stage was a flatbed truck and we were under a canopy that fluttered in the breeze.
When we were introduced, we looked out at the audience and there was Aunt Edith in her lawn chair right up front, cheering us on. Every song that day was for her. I can still see her smiling as we sang.
As the years went by, Aunt Edith grew frail and lived the last few years in a nursing home. One of my biggest regrets, she asked us to come and play for her friends there and for one reason or another, we never made it.
Aunt Edith is gone now, but every Fourth of July, I think of Aunt Edith, her farm and all those great memories and I will never forget her homemade ice cream.
