I remember how anxious we kids would be by May for school to be out for the summer—we were always free in those days by Memorial Day since we had no days off for teacher’s conferences, snow days, etc., during the school year back then. We were a hardy bunch who would wade mud and sometimes a bit of snow, out to the bus, or walked to school in it if we were within a mile. And teachers stayed after school to meet with parents for conferences. We only had ten days off (counting two weekends) for Christmas break, and a few days off around Easter time. And yes, they were Christian Holidays to be celebrated as such, not called, Winter break or Spring break.
These days, it may be the third week of June before they turn the kids loose. By that time, we’d be on our second skin peel from sunburns we’d already gotten runnin’ the fields, and floatin’ down the ditch. And our feet would be callused so hard, we could run on hot gravel an’ never feel a thing.
We would be in the garden by the third week of June too, and have peas and beans already comin’ on. The tomatoes would be green yet, but corn would be up eight to ten inches and honey bees would be all over the clover comin’ through the grass in our lawn—we loved to catch those bees in a big ol’ fruit jar with a slit in the top so they could breathe. When you’d shake the jar, they’d really buzz. Now I know how mean that was.
By mid to late June, all the ditches had usually dried up except for maybe some black mud that was sticky and stunk but we still cooled our feet in them. Such simple pleasures we had in our country-childhood adventures.
I still can name every family living on that back road in my day. I can see all their faces too, young and old on both sides of the tracks.
We girls had no idea we were of the feminine gender then since we ran like wild Indians day and night, and were true Tom-boys. Only one I remember was a girlie-girl, and I was in great awe of her. She could cook and clean house by the time she was ten and I admit to being a bit jealous of her. She even had beautiful long curls that were always clean and shiny, and to this day, I’ve never seen dirt under her fingernails, (tee-hee!) My hair would be powdery with gray dirt just like the boys, and what the ditch water didn’t wash off as we floated down would always be a hassle with Mamma trying to dunk me in the tub before bed every night to get the extra pound or so out.
Before school would start in the fall, Mamma would have to take a scrub brush to my feet to get the excess dirt out of the barefoot creases before she could put those nice, white, little anklets and sturdy brown shoes back on her wayward daughter. And in my day in grade school, we had to wear dresses everyday with ties that made a bow in the back, and have our hair curled and fussed over each morning after breakfast, junior high & high school too—NO PANTS were worn…..I must admit, I HATED IT until at thirteen, I discovered I was a girl! Now, that was a pretty depressing thought at the time, as I recall.
By the end of May, we were being taught about family and those patriots who had sacrificed for us so we could live FREE in a country without dictators or kings! (Remember, this was sixty-some years ago, and times are a changin’ rapidly now—and not for the better, I fear.) We were taught what it all meant from the cradle up, and I still get teary when I hear Taps played. After the ceremonies, the families would decorate all their relative’s graves with flowers that were already in season by then. I remember My Aunt's Iris, Snap-dragons, roses, and Peonies were picked for the occasion every year. Many a tale was told standing at those graves of folks we were kin to, but never knew. We were hearing our history, and getting an education about our families, though, as kids, we were oblivious to most of it until later years.
