The days are growing noticeably shorter and the nights deliciously cool. In a few days the neighborhood children will return to school. Quiet resettles the block. Leaves will soon begin to reveal their startling yellows and striking reds. Tomatoes are abundant; our bounty is shared with friends and neighbors. At the end of August the season’s memories are as savory as juicy, ripe strawberries.
The plants did well, critters not withstanding. Our apples are nearly ready for the picking, i.e. if we can beat the squirrels to them. We put the glider away yesterday. We need to start to think about autumn lawn fertilizer and replacing broken rakes. The end of summer is “such sweet sorrow.”
The economy and gasoline prices kept many of us close to home this summer. Fortunately for us family members were able to visit from California. Our granddaughters experienced running through lawn sprinklers—such an experience will never be possible in dry southern California. They were introduced to Midwestern flora and fauna. The younger child can easily recognize dragonflies and Queen Anne’s lace. Fireflies will light their dreams for months. The girls appreciate the delights of playing on the dunes and swimming in the warm, calm waters of Lake Michigan. Thunder and lightening were wondrous if somewhat scary.
On our own again, we launched our own boarder excursion into Wisconsin. If it weren’t for winter, Wisconsin would be a very nice place to live. In mid-August the Milwaukee area is host to several festivals. The Irish Fest on the lakeshore was terrific. We’ve attended many over the years and this year’s was one of the best. Celtic music, dance, and foods were in abundance; the currach races intensely fought; Irish dog breeds strutted their stuff; and, transport to the fest by the express County bus the best way to get there. Port Washington, just north of Milwaukee, hosted the Maritime Festival. Several tall ships were featured. They look so very lovely in full sail on the lake! Our “Cheese Head” neighbors really know how to celebrate summer.
As we drove back home, a nagging question recurs. We are always faced with this question when returning home. Why are the free roads in Wisconsin so much better than those in Illinois, where you are charged for the ‘privilege’ of using them? Illinois offers few viable options to its toll system. The fact that the Illinois toll road was undergoing construction doesn't really temper the problem. The expensive toll roads are usually crowded and the repairs won’t last long. Yes, “Cheese Heads” are taxed at a higher rate, but they seem to do so much more with what they receive. Wisconsin road rest stops are convenient, clean, and provide the tourist with useful information. Illinois' expensive “oases” are far apart and totally commercial. I imagine our perennial summer question will not be resolved. We actually know the answer, but don’t want to face up to it on such a beautiful summer day.
Summer is at an end. We enjoyed it. Now it is time to move on.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
The Annual Festival of Genetic Affirmation: 50 Years Strong
The first Sunday in August fills the residents of a Wauconda subdivision with foreboding. Dozens of autos, filled with families, will descend on the old cottage. The cottage itself is an anomaly. It is more than 75 years old; the building with the attached lots reflects an historical time of summers spent “in the country.” Wauconda’s newer homes on smaller lots bespeak the modernity of the last quarter of the 20th century. The old cottage lives in a 30s movie. The building is deserted most of the year—another anomaly in this bedroom community.
But it is the sheer number of people who descend on the cottage that amazes. The first Sunday in August is the date of the annual Family Picnic. Hundreds of family members arrive to affirm their consanguinity and celebrate their Italian heritage. I refer to it as the Festival of Genetic Affirmation—an appellation bestowed with tongue in cheek as well as a great deal of pride.
This year commemorated 50 years of official Family Picnics, although family summer outings began decades earlier. The golden anniversary brought relatives from Germany, the East Coast, the West Coast, all over the Midwest, and across the street. The family picnic newsletter assumed gigantic proportions as memories and photos, some old as the cottage, were shared. A professional photographer was hired to document the event with “The Largest Family Picture Ever.” A website was established to view the 50th anniversary photos.
Cousins so numerous that it stymies the imagination share traditional Italian cuisine, old stories, kisses, and hugs. Each family member professes amazement over how children have grown. Each keeps unspoken how others are now so frail. The pleasure of each other’s company pervades every reunion. Additionally it is an occasion to remember family members no longer alive. Many are gone, but so very many others perpetuate the traditions.
The Family Picnic celebrates the four brothers and one cousin who left Calabria with nothing but hope, courage, and the willingness to work hard. My Grandfather, the oldest, arrived in 1904. Two years later a younger brother made the voyage. My Grandmother joined her husband in 1907. Others followed. Each brother and cousin came with the desire to become Americans, promising that their children would be free, educated, and have good lives.
The American dream was there to be earned with hard work. They worked hard. My Grandfather helped build the railroad west. He and my Grandmother owned grocery and fish stores that served their fellow immigrants. They worked to start a cartage company. Their family flourished. The old cottage reflected their success when it was purchased in 1939. It was a refuge from the city. Grandma finally had her own garden. The family swam, fished, played softball, and enjoyed the clean air. Family was everything.
The family worked hard and achieved the American dream my Grandfather promised in 1904. Subsequent generations renewed this dream for their children. Today great-great grandchildren begin families confident that even the youngest child will own that heritage. The Annual Festival of Genetic Affirmation assures the preservation and propagation of the promise of 1904. Every one of the successive generations honors the progenitors of their American dream on the first Sunday of August when they gather for food and fun at the old cottage. Grandfather would be proud.
But it is the sheer number of people who descend on the cottage that amazes. The first Sunday in August is the date of the annual Family Picnic. Hundreds of family members arrive to affirm their consanguinity and celebrate their Italian heritage. I refer to it as the Festival of Genetic Affirmation—an appellation bestowed with tongue in cheek as well as a great deal of pride.
This year commemorated 50 years of official Family Picnics, although family summer outings began decades earlier. The golden anniversary brought relatives from Germany, the East Coast, the West Coast, all over the Midwest, and across the street. The family picnic newsletter assumed gigantic proportions as memories and photos, some old as the cottage, were shared. A professional photographer was hired to document the event with “The Largest Family Picture Ever.” A website was established to view the 50th anniversary photos.
Cousins so numerous that it stymies the imagination share traditional Italian cuisine, old stories, kisses, and hugs. Each family member professes amazement over how children have grown. Each keeps unspoken how others are now so frail. The pleasure of each other’s company pervades every reunion. Additionally it is an occasion to remember family members no longer alive. Many are gone, but so very many others perpetuate the traditions.
The Family Picnic celebrates the four brothers and one cousin who left Calabria with nothing but hope, courage, and the willingness to work hard. My Grandfather, the oldest, arrived in 1904. Two years later a younger brother made the voyage. My Grandmother joined her husband in 1907. Others followed. Each brother and cousin came with the desire to become Americans, promising that their children would be free, educated, and have good lives.
The American dream was there to be earned with hard work. They worked hard. My Grandfather helped build the railroad west. He and my Grandmother owned grocery and fish stores that served their fellow immigrants. They worked to start a cartage company. Their family flourished. The old cottage reflected their success when it was purchased in 1939. It was a refuge from the city. Grandma finally had her own garden. The family swam, fished, played softball, and enjoyed the clean air. Family was everything.
The family worked hard and achieved the American dream my Grandfather promised in 1904. Subsequent generations renewed this dream for their children. Today great-great grandchildren begin families confident that even the youngest child will own that heritage. The Annual Festival of Genetic Affirmation assures the preservation and propagation of the promise of 1904. Every one of the successive generations honors the progenitors of their American dream on the first Sunday of August when they gather for food and fun at the old cottage. Grandfather would be proud.
[Note: Photograph taken on Labor Day 1945. Family celebrates Victory in World War II. Already some military members are home; others await de-mobilization.]
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