1960’s. We never owned a family picnic basket growing up, but the few times we tailgated along the many creeks in New York. Our picnics were a couple of loaves of white bread, a few pounds of bologna sliced thin, and American cheese. Ketchup and French’s yellow mustard were the condiments. A bag of potato chips, and a jug of Wyler’s lemonade finished off the meal. We could assemble and balance our fare sitting on a large boulder along the rushing waterway. Mom’s last words every time were, “Don’t fall in!” Usually, it was Bruce who fell in accidently, but often Rich would throw a rock a little too hard and his canvas sneaker without any tread would slide under. It was our tradition.
1969. Jim built us our very own picnic table for our backyard with the white picket fence. Mom was in an earthly heaven, finally, we had a rental that we called, “home sweet home,” if only for a year and a half. The picnic table was eye balled to size. That meant most of the clan couldn’t touch the grass below us, except for Bruce who was over 6 feet tall. We had to lift Dawn up to the table because she was only 5 years old and petite for her age. Our backyard picnics were very elaborate: a bucket of KFC chicken, Mom made her macaroni with Hellman’s mayo and green peppers, deviled eggs, canned peaches and pears, and of course, lemonade from the milk man who delivered it twice a week in 10-quart plastic containers.
1970’s -80’s. All through the decades, I’d make picnics for every day trip we took with the boys on the road. Eating out and fast food didn’t fit the budget. The best picnics were at Bellows Beach in Hawaii. I would boil some white rice, bring along a soy sauce, tomato, onion marinade for the top of the rice. Red pepper flakes added gently to give it a kick. Jim would BBQ any meats we had and hot coals were ready to grill chicken, ribs and more. For 6 years, every weekend, we were there picnicking ocean front.
2000. My first birthday without Jim, Nick met me at a park. We were both so distraught and fumbled in grief. I still don’t know how he did this, but he bought the most beautiful picnic basket and went to a grocery store and bought a variety of yummy picnic foods. We sat on the bench watching some ducks in the water, and we nibbled. I still have this beautiful basket and have used it many times, most recently with my grandchildren at Indian Ladder farms. After petting all the spring babies, we gathered around the picnic table and unloaded a feast. I couldn’t help but think about whether it is a bologna sandwich out the back of a 1959 Rambler or a beautiful basket loaded with everything yummy, it is the gathering out in the sunshine with the ones you love and breaking bread together…and maybe a slice of watermelon. That’s a summer smile.
2023. In a few weeks, my gal pals will gather here for an indoor picnic, because in New York in July you need AC or cover for the unpredictable weather. This time we will plan a potluck, so everything will round out a scrumptious meal. I’ll decorate my picnic basket and reflect back over the years of the many family memories made and be grateful.
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