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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Biography / Autobiography
- Published: 07/13/2016
The passing of the picinic- 1956-1970
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United Statesthink, the picnic, as I knew it as a child, has passed. Oh sure, down here in the South, Barbecue still rules, as does a day at the beach. For us Clevelanders, it was Euclid Beach Park, or any of the dozens of other Amusement Parks: Geauga Lake Park, Wildwood Lake Park, Cedar Point…etc that meant a special summer weekend, or week day treat. Ahh…but picnics were in a class of their own, and they had about four or five variations:
The Company picnic. The Family reunion picnic (because in the fifties and sixties, most folks lived pretty close to their relatives), the Memorial Day Picnic, the July 4th Picnic, Labor Day picnic, and the intimate little: “let’s go on a picnic!” that an individual family might throw together on the spur of the moment. Those little impromptu picnics happened almost weekly, and those are the ones where you brought non family members along. You could bring a friend (or several), however many kids you could fit in a car, and believe me, you could put quite a gaggle in those big old land yachts.
Usually, on those improvised picnics, it was out to Berea Quarries, (Real Name: Wallace Lake…still there, still packed in the summer) where you swam all day, the adults sat on the blankets, and you ate hot dogs from the concession stand, or Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches, with graham crackers as a treat. Milk was the preferred beverage for us kids, and chocolate milk was so special that you went off by yourself to sit under a tree, or on your own towel, to savor every drop. If you shared chocolate milk with somebody, they were either a true friend, or a girl. LOL
At those mini picnics, the adults would sip their beer, and chat. The teens would gather in small shifting herds, and put a blanket down as a dance floor. Someone always brought a portable record player, with the thick 45 RPM gizmo that you put on the spindle to stack up 10 of your favorite records- and you would dance, dance, dance. The next group down was the 11-13 year olds. They all had transistor radios, but spent about half the time in the water, and the other half in that strange wasteland between little boy, little girl, and the fringes of that Teen Herd. If you watched carefully, little boys in this age group would be torn between swinging on the vine over the creek with gay abandon, and no fear of bodily harm- or, hanging out near the girl they had a crush on. Older boys, say 12, or 12 and a half, worked around this by “Showing off.”
They would get the girls to watch them, as they hurtled father out, farther up, or they would let go of the vine and do a trick. The girls would pretend not to notice, and the guys would pretend that they weren’t looking to see if you watched. It was quite the chicken dance if you looked carefully.
The boys from about six to 10- were pure boys. The girls were all girls. In a lot of ways, this was the last age where you had “girl friends”, not girlfriends. You could truly be “buddies.” If you saw this age group on a vine, both sexes were swinging out and dropping into the water with their tiny fifty or sixty pound bodies, and the wiry muscles that seem to never tire. This group moved like those documentary films of mass bird migrations, or starlings. Flitting hither and yon, sometimes growing to flocks of 20 or 30 kids, other times, down to small packs of five or so. Occasionally, it was just best friend times. Yep. You and your best bud, and sometimes, a girl buddy, and her two friends. It wasn’t strange to see a ten year old girl be “best friend material” to two best friends. Just four years later, and that same girl has to make a choice, ending one friendship, and sealing another’s fate. But that came later.
Now, we are down to the group that has to figure out ways to scare their parents, or babysitters out of their minds- the four to eight year olds. This is the group that just plays, full out, non stop, and leaves anyone in charge, exhausted and hunting for a beer, or someone to transfer responsibility to. This is the group that has frogs in their pockets, drops spiders on girlfriends, and has deep open conversations in blanket tents at night, with a flashlight as the beacon of secret dreams. This is the same age group you can’t get out of the water, or down from the trees, or away from the creek. This is the age group, where you stand in front of your mom or dad, sunburned to a crisp, as they lather you up, pop blisters, or cover you with a dry shirt, and put you in the shade.
Alternatively, once they dragged you out of the water, for said hot dog, or PBJ sandwich, with the extra enticement of Graham Crackers- you might stand shivering, your skin blue from the cold, your lips a deep purple, as you shiver, and your teeth chatter- they wrap you in beach towels big enough to be your blanket, and rub you vigorously to get the blood flowing. You on the edge of hypothermia, but you don’t know that word yet, and even if you did (and what it meant) it wouldn’t stop you from trying to go back in the water. When you only have thirty or forty pounds to your entire body, well, it doesn’t take a pool, or a lake, long to sap every scrap of body heat away.
Next down are the toddlers, infants, and those in the last throws of true childhood- five years old, down to rug rats, the crawlers that seem to outrace adults- at least for the first few steps the adult has to take to prevent a fall, a dunk in the pool, or some other misfortune caused by inattention by the adult, and one track focus by the kid. These, like the six to eight year olds, run on pure child hood juice. When they run down, the stop, wherever they are, and go stone cold sleep. You might find them in mid crawl, or with a toy in their hand, or halfway to their beach blanket. Adults would smile, and either leave them their sprawled in “off stage”, cover them with something, and post a guard- or sweep them up to rock them gently and coo. Sometimes, on bright summer days, they would put three of four of them on the back seat of a car, with the doors wide open. Designated mom’s would pull up a couple of those cheap aluminum folding chairs, with their plaid plastic seats and backs (the kind that leave those horrible waffle scars on women’s thighs and backsides) and watch over the brood, while the rest of the folks carried on.
Oh, my gosh, look how much I have written, and I still haven’t gotten to the picnics! I shall write again tomorrow…for now, go back in your life to inertness, and chicken fights, and transistor radios, and secret clubs, and sleeping on the transmission hump in the back seat. If you were a teen then, well the back seat has a different set of memories. LOL
Hugs to all, Happy Memorial Day, Kevin
The passing of the picinic- 1956-1970(Kevin Hughes)
think, the picnic, as I knew it as a child, has passed. Oh sure, down here in the South, Barbecue still rules, as does a day at the beach. For us Clevelanders, it was Euclid Beach Park, or any of the dozens of other Amusement Parks: Geauga Lake Park, Wildwood Lake Park, Cedar Point…etc that meant a special summer weekend, or week day treat. Ahh…but picnics were in a class of their own, and they had about four or five variations:
The Company picnic. The Family reunion picnic (because in the fifties and sixties, most folks lived pretty close to their relatives), the Memorial Day Picnic, the July 4th Picnic, Labor Day picnic, and the intimate little: “let’s go on a picnic!” that an individual family might throw together on the spur of the moment. Those little impromptu picnics happened almost weekly, and those are the ones where you brought non family members along. You could bring a friend (or several), however many kids you could fit in a car, and believe me, you could put quite a gaggle in those big old land yachts.
Usually, on those improvised picnics, it was out to Berea Quarries, (Real Name: Wallace Lake…still there, still packed in the summer) where you swam all day, the adults sat on the blankets, and you ate hot dogs from the concession stand, or Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches, with graham crackers as a treat. Milk was the preferred beverage for us kids, and chocolate milk was so special that you went off by yourself to sit under a tree, or on your own towel, to savor every drop. If you shared chocolate milk with somebody, they were either a true friend, or a girl. LOL
At those mini picnics, the adults would sip their beer, and chat. The teens would gather in small shifting herds, and put a blanket down as a dance floor. Someone always brought a portable record player, with the thick 45 RPM gizmo that you put on the spindle to stack up 10 of your favorite records- and you would dance, dance, dance. The next group down was the 11-13 year olds. They all had transistor radios, but spent about half the time in the water, and the other half in that strange wasteland between little boy, little girl, and the fringes of that Teen Herd. If you watched carefully, little boys in this age group would be torn between swinging on the vine over the creek with gay abandon, and no fear of bodily harm- or, hanging out near the girl they had a crush on. Older boys, say 12, or 12 and a half, worked around this by “Showing off.”
They would get the girls to watch them, as they hurtled father out, farther up, or they would let go of the vine and do a trick. The girls would pretend not to notice, and the guys would pretend that they weren’t looking to see if you watched. It was quite the chicken dance if you looked carefully.
The boys from about six to 10- were pure boys. The girls were all girls. In a lot of ways, this was the last age where you had “girl friends”, not girlfriends. You could truly be “buddies.” If you saw this age group on a vine, both sexes were swinging out and dropping into the water with their tiny fifty or sixty pound bodies, and the wiry muscles that seem to never tire. This group moved like those documentary films of mass bird migrations, or starlings. Flitting hither and yon, sometimes growing to flocks of 20 or 30 kids, other times, down to small packs of five or so. Occasionally, it was just best friend times. Yep. You and your best bud, and sometimes, a girl buddy, and her two friends. It wasn’t strange to see a ten year old girl be “best friend material” to two best friends. Just four years later, and that same girl has to make a choice, ending one friendship, and sealing another’s fate. But that came later.
Now, we are down to the group that has to figure out ways to scare their parents, or babysitters out of their minds- the four to eight year olds. This is the group that just plays, full out, non stop, and leaves anyone in charge, exhausted and hunting for a beer, or someone to transfer responsibility to. This is the group that has frogs in their pockets, drops spiders on girlfriends, and has deep open conversations in blanket tents at night, with a flashlight as the beacon of secret dreams. This is the same age group you can’t get out of the water, or down from the trees, or away from the creek. This is the age group, where you stand in front of your mom or dad, sunburned to a crisp, as they lather you up, pop blisters, or cover you with a dry shirt, and put you in the shade.
Alternatively, once they dragged you out of the water, for said hot dog, or PBJ sandwich, with the extra enticement of Graham Crackers- you might stand shivering, your skin blue from the cold, your lips a deep purple, as you shiver, and your teeth chatter- they wrap you in beach towels big enough to be your blanket, and rub you vigorously to get the blood flowing. You on the edge of hypothermia, but you don’t know that word yet, and even if you did (and what it meant) it wouldn’t stop you from trying to go back in the water. When you only have thirty or forty pounds to your entire body, well, it doesn’t take a pool, or a lake, long to sap every scrap of body heat away.
Next down are the toddlers, infants, and those in the last throws of true childhood- five years old, down to rug rats, the crawlers that seem to outrace adults- at least for the first few steps the adult has to take to prevent a fall, a dunk in the pool, or some other misfortune caused by inattention by the adult, and one track focus by the kid. These, like the six to eight year olds, run on pure child hood juice. When they run down, the stop, wherever they are, and go stone cold sleep. You might find them in mid crawl, or with a toy in their hand, or halfway to their beach blanket. Adults would smile, and either leave them their sprawled in “off stage”, cover them with something, and post a guard- or sweep them up to rock them gently and coo. Sometimes, on bright summer days, they would put three of four of them on the back seat of a car, with the doors wide open. Designated mom’s would pull up a couple of those cheap aluminum folding chairs, with their plaid plastic seats and backs (the kind that leave those horrible waffle scars on women’s thighs and backsides) and watch over the brood, while the rest of the folks carried on.
Oh, my gosh, look how much I have written, and I still haven’t gotten to the picnics! I shall write again tomorrow…for now, go back in your life to inertness, and chicken fights, and transistor radios, and secret clubs, and sleeping on the transmission hump in the back seat. If you were a teen then, well the back seat has a different set of memories. LOL
Hugs to all, Happy Memorial Day, Kevin
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