Of Memories, Celebrations and Birthday Cakes by Konnie Enos

Yes, this is the same picture for last week. Yes, it is now 50 years since Bonnie marched in that parade.

I have different memories of that day, mostly because I wasn’t in the parade. I’d chosen a place to watch from just after where the parade would pass through the old underpass. (I’m not even sure it’s still there.)

I chose this particular spot because of the shade. The high bank behind that side of the sidewalk was topped with some overhanging trees or bushes. Between the wall and the greenery topping it, it afford some protection from the sun. Since it was summer, and I can recall no clouds to speak of, heat was a given, and I do not like being overheated. Frankly, I did not envy my sister marching in the parade at all.

And as I remember, Bonnie was on the other side of the street when she marched past. I did see her, but she wasn’t close enough for me to say high to her.

I do, however, remember one participant in the parade who got very close to me, close enough I could have touch her mount if she’d paused a few seconds longer.

I can still see her, a young woman, all dressed up in a cowgirl outfit, including the hat, riding a beautiful mostly white, or at least very light-colored pony. The young woman’s hair was also very light colored. As she pranced over to my side of the road, the young woman smiled and waved at everyone, and I did the same back.

Now that in and of itself wasn’t remarkable enough for me to even think about after that day, even then I could remember seeing those ponies and how close she came to me.

But what makes it so much more memorable to me is something that happened much more recently.

You see, over twenty years ago we moved into our current house. In the process, we met a very sweet older couple. He was remarkable for his size. I’m sure he’s over a foot taller than I am.

She was remarkable because every single time I saw her, I had a very clear image of a young smiling cowgirl. And I could not fathom where I’d seen that cowgirl or why seeing her reminded me of the cowgirl.

I asked her where she’d grown up. Tried to figure out if we’d ever lived in or around the same area or went to the same college, at the same time. Just any reason why I would see that cowgirl every time I looked at her.

It was several years later when I was sitting in her house with her, her husband, my husband and one other lady just talking, while we waited for others to join us for a meeting we were having.

As I recall we got on the subject of memories, and or celebrations and somehow the Bicentennial was brought up. And this wonderful woman launched into a story about how she’d gone to visit her uncle and was supposed to head home that Saturday morning (Saturday, July 3^rd, 1976) but instead her uncle practically manhandled her into riding their last pony in the nearest Bicentennial parade. She explained that someone had gotten sick, she was a last minute, available replacement.

Possibly because she was talking about riding ponies, out of sheer curiosity, I asked her where this parade was.

My jaw about hit the floor when she said my HOMETOWN.

And it instantly dawned on me that I wasn’t seeing flashes of just any cowgirl. I was seeing her, much younger, but her.

She could remember being in the parade but didn’t remember anybody in particular she waved at. I obviously retained the memory of seeing her. And with another event to connect that distant memory to, I have not forgotten it since.

The only other thing I remember from that conversation was that everyone there was absolutely astonished that my husband and I were even old enough to remember the Bicentennial, let alone having been teenagers at the time.

I’m sorry, but twenty or so years ago, we did not look like we were in our forties.

Also, when I saw the picture for Bonnie’s post, I quickly placed who was front and center and exactly when it was taken. Then I attempted to get my husband, son and daughter to figure out who was in the picture.

Since they couldn’t see her face, none of them could figure out it was Bonnie.

And yes, I can remember the Ross Park picnic on the Monday after the parade, complete with our birthday cake, and the comment about it being for our country’s birthday. I told them it was for our birthday.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Bicentennial Memories by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

There has been a lot of talk lately about people asking others if they remember our country’s Bicentennial.

For reference, on the back of the above picture there is a notation in my handwriting that says, “Bicentennial ‘76”. Additionally, that’s me front and center.

So, do I remember the Bicentennial? Boy, do I remember that weekend!

Though my telling of that weekend needs to start a few weeks back.

As you can see from the above picture, I was in band, and I played the B-flat clarinet.

And clearly my memories of that historic weekend start with being in the summer band class.

Most particularly, I was in the 6^th grade summer band class, as that was the year of school I just finished. I was also the shortest person in my section, which I probably could have tolerated if my fellow classmates hadn’t decided to make a big deal of it.

It didn’t help that I had not yet learned how to keep my mouth shut, and lying isn’t in me.
(It seems I’m on the spectrum, go figure.)

At any rate, when one of them pointed out I was the shortest in class, I had honestly informed them, “Yeah, and I’m the oldest.”

It was the first day of class, so they wondered how I could be so sure. I basically told them I was behind in school; I was 13 and would be 14 in about a month. All true.

And I should have kept my mouth shut. But it got worse a few weeks later when one of the girls expressed the opinion that maybe someone had forgotten to give me a pinch to grow an inch on my last birthday.

Being honest, and still not knowing how to keep my mouth shut, I let them know I hadn’t received any birthday spanking, and that requisite pinch, since like I was 10.

That was by far one of the biggest mistakes I’d ever made, and it was most unfortunate that I’d already told them, way back when I told them how old I was, exactly when my birthday was.

Yikes! The next thing I knew, all 13 or so of my female classmates were conspiring to overpower me and administer my birthday spanking and that badly needed pinch on my coming birthday, which, quite unfortunately, fell on a day when we were scheduled for class.

I was not looking forward to this event. After all, these girls outnumbered me and were bigger than me.

Ergo, while we were marching through town on Saturday, July 3^rd, 1976, my mind was more on whether or not I should ditch class on Monday.

And thereby what happened when we reached the end of this parade is forever etched into my memory, because for me, it was epic.

Here is the gist of what happened. As we reached the ending point, our band leader faced all of us and informed us that, owing to the momentous holiday falling on a Sunday, class was cancelled for Monday.

Now, as we were school kids, you would think we all cheered, but owing to the plans of the majority of the clarinet section, our band leader ended up staring at us in stunned silence.

I might point out that the one boy in our section, had no reaction at all and all but one of the girls in our section (almost in unison) snapped their fingers, stomped their foot, and said, “Oh, shoot!” while the lone remaining girl all but collapsed to the ground with her hand on her chest and breathed a very heartfelt, “Oh, thank God!”

That isn’t to say that I do not remember the rest of that weekend because I do.

At one point on Sunday the 4^th, my siblings and I played with sparklers in our yard; then we went with our mother to watch the fireworks display. Afterwards, because of traffic, it took us so long to get home that by the time we entered our house, it was already July 5^th. Konnie and I pointed out it was now officially our birthday and demanded our presents.

I do not remember what Konnie got, but I do remember I got the Barbie Dreamboat. I actually still have it.

And later that day we packed up a picnic, along with our cake and ice cream, and went to Ross Park to continue our celebration. Which is where someone saw our birthday cake and said they thought it was a cool idea to have a cake for our county’s birthday.

I guess she was thinking about America’s birthday because that day there was a festival in that very park as part of the Bicentennial festivities.

Anyway, happy writing, everyone!