Memorial Day / Independence Day
Memorial day, the old Memorial Day, when it was a fixed celebration on May 30, not this slippery, sliding, last Monday in May thing, was my mother's birthday. With the help of her Uncle Clyde, who it seems was responsible for most of the lies of her childhood, she grew up thinking all the parades and celebrations were for her.
I was trying to remember what we used to do on Memorial Day. I think my grandparents took us to the cemetery to visit relatives graves: cut the grass, leave some flowers, have a picnic. Later when I was in Girl Scouts, there would be a mass at St. Helena's with all the scouts in uniform. But that's where the memory gets fuzzy and I'm wondering if it's actually July 4th that I remember.
The fourth of July was a big deal in Olney (a row house neighborhood of Philadelphia) when I was growing up. Now that I do remember.
My mother was the leader of the second largest Girl Scout troop in Philadelphia. At our peak, we had more than 60 girls. We met in the basement at St. Helena's school during the school year, and in the summer we turned into the world's worst softball team and met at Fisher's park, catty-corner from the school at 5th and Spencer.
July 4th started early. Mass was at 8, and we would be there, in uniform, with a full color-guard wearing white gloves (girls all had white gloves then: we wore them to church on Sunday, along with hats or veils or chapel caps). All the Scout troops: Boys, Girls, Cubs, and Brownies, in Olney would be represented, or at least all the Catholic ones, which was probably most in that neighborhood. The color guard of each troop would process down the aisle, turning in alternating directions to plant their flags in an array on either side of the altar. Being there for mass at 8 AM got you tickets for free hot dogs and ice cream. Kids, even Scouts, need some incentive.
Memory is a funny thing. At least one fourth of July memory includes dashing out of church and up to the VFW, where volunteers making hot dogs might be talked out of one for breakfast. Somewhere in there is a parade: can't remember if it is before mass and ends at the church or after mass and ends at Fisher's park. But after church, the all day celebration moved to the park somehow.
The day was spent in the park. There were fife and drum corps, or drum and bugle corps performances. There was a talent contest. Best of all were the races. There were foot races for every age: 100 yard dash, 200 and 400 yards (none of this meter stuff). There were wheelbarrow races - you remember this one, one kid walking on his hands while another held his legs) - three legged races, sack races, egg on a spoon races. There was the peanut scramble, the one absolutely everyone took part in. There was the newly weds race, when husbands drank coke out of baby bottles fed to them by their brides. This was an Irish, Italian, Polish neighborhood, so there was also the "Who has the most freckles" contest. It was hot and sunny and hot and sweaty and hot and dusty and went on all day. The vendors who gave you your free hot dog were happy to sell you extra drinks and water ices. Unlike most of the festivals I go to today, there were no other vendors. There may have been some political booths, I was too young to pay any attention. But there weren't a lot of people trying to sell you things.
We broke for dinner and a chance to cool off (no air conditioning, just sitting in the shade and fanning or taking a cool shower). After dark found us together again on the steps or lawn of Olney high, watching fireworks. Today's fireworks are probably better, but we still did a lot of Oohing and Aahing as we watched. And most of us would fall asleep, to be wakened or carried to the car, whichever your parents preferred. Independence day, always the most perfect of days.
I was trying to remember what we used to do on Memorial Day. I think my grandparents took us to the cemetery to visit relatives graves: cut the grass, leave some flowers, have a picnic. Later when I was in Girl Scouts, there would be a mass at St. Helena's with all the scouts in uniform. But that's where the memory gets fuzzy and I'm wondering if it's actually July 4th that I remember.
The fourth of July was a big deal in Olney (a row house neighborhood of Philadelphia) when I was growing up. Now that I do remember.
My mother was the leader of the second largest Girl Scout troop in Philadelphia. At our peak, we had more than 60 girls. We met in the basement at St. Helena's school during the school year, and in the summer we turned into the world's worst softball team and met at Fisher's park, catty-corner from the school at 5th and Spencer.
July 4th started early. Mass was at 8, and we would be there, in uniform, with a full color-guard wearing white gloves (girls all had white gloves then: we wore them to church on Sunday, along with hats or veils or chapel caps). All the Scout troops: Boys, Girls, Cubs, and Brownies, in Olney would be represented, or at least all the Catholic ones, which was probably most in that neighborhood. The color guard of each troop would process down the aisle, turning in alternating directions to plant their flags in an array on either side of the altar. Being there for mass at 8 AM got you tickets for free hot dogs and ice cream. Kids, even Scouts, need some incentive.
Memory is a funny thing. At least one fourth of July memory includes dashing out of church and up to the VFW, where volunteers making hot dogs might be talked out of one for breakfast. Somewhere in there is a parade: can't remember if it is before mass and ends at the church or after mass and ends at Fisher's park. But after church, the all day celebration moved to the park somehow.
The day was spent in the park. There were fife and drum corps, or drum and bugle corps performances. There was a talent contest. Best of all were the races. There were foot races for every age: 100 yard dash, 200 and 400 yards (none of this meter stuff). There were wheelbarrow races - you remember this one, one kid walking on his hands while another held his legs) - three legged races, sack races, egg on a spoon races. There was the peanut scramble, the one absolutely everyone took part in. There was the newly weds race, when husbands drank coke out of baby bottles fed to them by their brides. This was an Irish, Italian, Polish neighborhood, so there was also the "Who has the most freckles" contest. It was hot and sunny and hot and sweaty and hot and dusty and went on all day. The vendors who gave you your free hot dog were happy to sell you extra drinks and water ices. Unlike most of the festivals I go to today, there were no other vendors. There may have been some political booths, I was too young to pay any attention. But there weren't a lot of people trying to sell you things.
We broke for dinner and a chance to cool off (no air conditioning, just sitting in the shade and fanning or taking a cool shower). After dark found us together again on the steps or lawn of Olney high, watching fireworks. Today's fireworks are probably better, but we still did a lot of Oohing and Aahing as we watched. And most of us would fall asleep, to be wakened or carried to the car, whichever your parents preferred. Independence day, always the most perfect of days.
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