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If you remember real hard, you’ll remember.
A moment when life took place above your head.
A summer picnic with mom and dad and all the people from dad’s work, I don’t really know how many.
A lot.
There were hamburgers and hot dogs and jello pops and grownups who got drunk.
And, cold sodas in metal coolers and we’d steal the ice and throw it at each other.
And, each year, a tug of war between the men that everybody waited for.
And after that, down in a mowed field, there was baseball and we children would sit on a hillside and watch our fathers play.
And, no one ever cheated.
And, it never rained on Saturdays.
And, everything was perfect.
Because, my memory say it’s so.
© The Baseball Bloggess, 2019
The Baseball Bloggess 
If only it were true.
“Say it ain’t so, Joe. Say it ain’t so.”
v
Exactly.
I’m my memory of those early years of neighborhood gatherings it never once rained on the 4th of July. Amazing!
Memory can do magic, can’t it? :)
Love the simplicity and poignancy and charm and edge of this.
Thank you so much for the kind words!
Took me right back not to baseball, but to my dad’s softball summers. ❤️
That was the only day of the year that my dad played baseball, except when he played catch with me.