4th of July

Then & Now

Kids in the 1970s ran free, mostly untethered to their homes or to the parents in charge. Picnicking was a popular pastime for all the Detroiters from my neighborhood. On summer weekends, if we weren’t driving out to Proud Lake or Kensington Metro with a packed cooler in the trunk, we were toting the same fare to a local park for a Mic Mac tournament. Mom and dad each filled a glass with ice, three parts whiskey and one part diet 7-Up and stuck it right in the plastic cup holders looped and hanging from the manual window wheel handles. They never tried to hide their open drinks from authorities, and they had plenty more for the day ahead in the coolers. The rules were lax in those days.

Every 4^th of July, we’d head to Bell Creek County Park for a long day before the fireworks show at dark. My parents and their friends could sit there for hours on their plastic, folding lawn chairs parked near a charcoal grill cemented to the ground. Perhaps the alcohol helped pass the time. Barb and Al, Jer and Dorothy, Betty and Paul twittered and belly laughed. Swore and argued. “What the hell did you do that for?” Or “I’d a kicked his ass out a long time ago” kinds of declarations flew up from the picnic site occasionally and landed without hitting anyone. Some smoked: Pall Mall or Marlboro. I know the brands because I was often sent with change to the machines at the bowling alley with this same group to restock them during games.

At nine or ten years old, Amy and I, the two youngest of our circle, dressed in cut off jean shorts and spaghetti string tops, ran all over that park to other groups of children also left on their own. What did we do all day besides swing, talk and drink some sugary cans of Faygo or Dr. Pepper? How many times Amy had to walk with me down the long, dirt path to the outhouse because the pop would go right through me. She must have been so annoyed, but she never expressed anger toward me. One time, we were just on our way back from the restroom and had to turn around before reaching our spot on the playground because I had to go again already. “Are you kidding?” she might say with an eye roll, but she accompanied me anyway. We looked out for each other and would never let one go to the bathroom without the other. Funny to think our parents did not worry about us being out of sight all day.

I know we made it back to the parents for lunch and dinner—hot dogs grilled and wrapped inside a soft piece of Wonder Bread, snug like a sleeping bag. Potato chips and corn on the cob paired well, and my mom always brought sliced cucumber from the garden smothered in sour cream, salt and pepper sprinkled on top. Amy’s mom liked her cucumbers with vinegar instead, so we might take a little of both. Twinkies and King Dons for later.

After a late dinner, we would drag an old blanket from the trunk to our spot on the hill, slanted just right for a good view to wait for fireworks. They would not even start until 10 o’clock, so we might lounge there for a couple of hours, perusing a Tiger Beat Magazine maybe. The loud and colorful finale signaled our time to gather our stuff and make our way back to the picnic site. Eleven o’clock at night and two ten-year-olds would shuffle through the crowd and find our parents packing up the cars to head home. Some parents inebriated. Others—alcohol all soaked up by the breads and goodies. At least that’s what we thought.

How different from today. Our little 4^th of July celebration will be a family barbeque with grandchildren playing in a blowup pool or at the water table from Fisher-Price. Safe foods, like organic chicken and chemical-free Puffs for the little one. A caprese salad with blueberries added and the mozzarella cookie-cut into little stars—the idea taken from Instagram.  Parents and grandparents playing with the children, taking photos to commemorate. All kinds of red, white and blue attire and décor. I drove all over to various stores yesterday looking for playdough in the theme colors. The kids will have to settle for turquoise, fuchsia and white. Darn it. No fireworks tonight either. Not even sparklers because they will all go home before dark to get the kids in bed. Then my husband and I might sit on the deck, under the twinkle lights with a glass of wine . . .or maybe a decaf iced tea, hoping to see a few fireworks in the distance.