This past week has brought back many memories. Just three years have passed since my husband Bernell suffered his stroke and we were at the hospital for nearly four weeks. We were there on the Fourth of July.
That was my Pawpaw Causey’s birthday and each year we would go to celebrate. A thrill always awaited us.
We jumped from the car, ran to look under the high front porch, where there would be three or four long, green striped watermelons resting in fine shady dust, the coolest place around.
Pawpaw’s yearly aim was to have those beauties ready to pull by his birthday. After a good dinner, he would let us younger grandchildren lean forward and go under the high porch and roll them to the yard.
Older boys would lift one, or two, if necessary. He would stick a big butcher knife into one’s middle and gently press the blade forward, just waiting to hear and see the melon begin to split.
That meant it was ripe — just right. We loved to see him cut the pieces and we loved eating them.
Pawpaw lived until I was 7, so those birthdays were important for several years that I remember.
Another July 4 memory was when we went to the Amite River swimming hole which, at that time, was just west of what is now the Ethel Vance Natural Area. There was one pretty lady in a black bathing suit, just floating along with a baby resting on her chest.
They made a pretty picture that I can visualize even now, baby Clayton Quin of McComb, wrapped safely in his mother Ivy’s arms. That would have been about 80 years ago.
Another special time came years later when Bernell and I were in McComb. He was an accomplished woodworker and was building cabinets for his new office that was being built, along with the late Dr. Janes’ adjoining one on the corner of North Broadway and Clark Streets.
The assembly place was in our den, so we circumvented the work site, as necessary. This July 4 he finished the long, heavy piece. The two of us (where were our children?) began the process of moving the unit toward the outside. At the step-down to the carport, I was outside, holding up a real burden and he was nudging it forward. It slipped and its edge landed on my unprotected big toe.
That is a pain I will always remember and a sore toe I suffered for weeks.
I have always been proud to point out the nice cabinets in the office, though, and say Bernell made them. Later he attended night classes in woodworking at Southwest Mississippi Community College and had access to larger work spaces and we could have the den again.
This year’s Fourth of July was real special in a different way, filled with picnics. I received an invitation to Amos and Colleen Parker’s annual get-together at their farm west of Summit.
The invitation said to come with folding chair and potluck dish, enjoy several hours of music, visiting with many friends and meeting others. We would be eating a meal on tables constructed between two trees, reminiscent of church protracted meetings long ago.
Amos said the gatherings started some years ago, as he and Colleen became more involved in civic and cultural affairs and his bluegrass type band became a part of our community. There were cars parked everywhere, people ranging from infants and toddlers to me, maybe the oldest person present.
The Rev.Amos Hood, who had been pastor at J.J. White Memorial Presbyterian Church for about eight years and still has many friends here, came.
He has been seriously ill for several years, but is doing better now. He brought a short inspirational message and blessed the food and our gathering.
Then I went to my new friend Myra Ricouard’s home north of Summit. We became acquainted earlier this year when she called to bring me an umbrella to replace the one taken from my shopping basket.
She and husband Ernie were having a cookout and family get-together.
Their home in St. Bernard Parish was flooded by Hurricane Katrina. They bought a home here but are still doing repair on the heavily damaged one.
This Fourth of July, Ernie had grilled some of the hottest barbecued chicken wings I had ever attempted eating.
Back home, there was just time to prepare potluck for the last party of the day — our church picnic. Hard rain had come earlier and there was still sprinkle at my house. A call to hosts Randy and Susan White indicated to come on, there would be room in the house and porch.
The invitation had suggested “bring a change of clothes if you will be getting in the sprinkler.” The weather eliminated that need, but the barbecuing took place under a tent in the yard. A large group of folks we see on Sunday were there to talk, laugh, fellowship and consume lots of good food.
That busy, filled day came to a close about dark. I came home, sat down and began to doze.
I thought I’d take a quick nap, then wake and take my pill. It didn’t work that way.
Van called at 10 o’clock to check on me. I went back to sleep and nine hours later it was Thursday morning.
This will be a Fourth of July I’ll always remember. Perhaps you will see pictures in the Enterprise-Journal (see page B6) of two of the outings and see some of the people I visited with and the spreads of food that were there.
