Happy Memories of the Fourth of July

It is the 1960s. We all pile into my grandfather's big white Chevrolet sedan and head out for our annual July 4th family gathering. Our destination is my family's cabin on Lake Cumberland in Eastern Kentucky.

As we drive along, we sing old familiar Christian hymns, such as "We Are Climbing Jacob's Ladder", "Love Lifted Me", and "The Church in the Wildwood". I learned these songs in the Disciples of Christ church where my grandfather is the minister. I'm in the back seat, sitting between my sister and my grandmother, singing harmony. I love these comforting hymns. I know all of the words by heart.

We turn off the main highway. The Chevy lumbers along down the curvy narrow gravel road leading to the cabin. The gravel makes a crunching sound under the wheels. We pull up into the clearing in front of our cabin. My sister and I, clad in shorts and flip flop sandals, jump out of the car and run into the cabin, letting the screen door bang shut behind us. We are happy to be in this serene and rustic place.

The grown-ups unload the trunk of the car. My grandmother starts preparing fried chicken and biscuits in the cabin's small kitchen. My sister grabs a pail, and she and I head out with our Aunt Leafie to pick blackberries for dessert along the gravel road. My dad spots a deer sprinting quietly through the woods.

My uncle Joe goes out to some pick tomatoes he's been growing in a small garden behind the cabin. My grandfather puts on a straw hat and strolls down to the lake. My Uncle Jim, who has driven separately, arrives. He is dressed in business attire, as he just came from his office at the University of Kentucky where he works as a chemical engineer. He climbs into a row boat with my dad, still dressed in his suit and tie. My sister and I giggle at him. I've never seen anyone go fishing in a suit before.

We eat dinner out on the screened back porch. As the sun sets over the lake, we hear a chorus of crickets singing. Fireflies blink their happy little lights in the dusk. Twangy country tunes are playing softly in the background on a transister radio. My dad puffs on an aromatic cherry tobacco blend in his pipe. My sister and I climb into the glider on the porch with our Uncle Joe.

There is no phone or television. We tell stories or just sit quietly together. There are no fireworks in these parts, but we can hear a few distant firecrackers over the lake. We listen to the frogs, whippoorwills, and other sounds of nature. We enjoy spending this time together. It is peaceful here, we are a family, and everything is right with the world.