Fourth of July--1940's Style

I have fond memories of childhood 4th of July days. A much simpler celebration than might be seen today but memorable, nonetheless.  I'm sure each of my readers have memories of their own that could/should be written and included in a Family Memories book. Maybe reading mine will trigger memories and inspire you to write about them. 

Independence Day In Chicago

By Nancy Julien Kopp

Come back with me to the1940’s era in Chicago. During the first few days of July, my younger brothers and I walked to the neighborhood Woolworth’s store to buy a very important item for our Fourth of July celebration. We had to make our purchase no later than July 3^rd, for all businesses closed on Independence Day.

We walked on the creaky wooden floor, smelling the penny candy lined up in glass cases near the front door. Straight to the back of the long aisle, we found rolls and rolls of colored crepe paper--red, white, and blue, of course.  We bought several rolls with money we’d saved. Once home, we stashed our purchase for the next day.

    

The first thing after breakfast on the Fourth of July, we clambered down the three flights of stairs from our top floor apartment to the basement where our bikes were kept.  Bump, bump, bump—up the steps from basement to courtyard we went with our two wheeled bikes. Down went the kickstands, and out came the rolls of crepe paper to decorate. We wove the colored streamers in and out of the wheel spokes, and fastened more on the handle-bars, then stepped back to see which looked best. Decorating our bikes for America’s holiday left an indelible impression of patriotism in us.

    

Other kids in our building worked on bikes, too. We rode all over the neighborhood, up and down alleys and sidewalks showing off our fancy bikes, not caring how high the temperature might be.

We spent the rest of the day like any other hot, sultry summer day. We ate popsicles to cool off, walked to the park where families sat on the lawn with picnic lunches and waited for the sun to go down. Dad had gone out earlier to one of the only businesses open—the fireworks stand. Money was usually scarce in our family, but Dad always found some extra to buy firecrackers and sparklers for us. No doubt, he enjoyed them as much as we did.

    

Darkness finally descended over our city, and once again, we hurried down the three flights of stairs. Not just kids this time, but our whole family. We gathered in the alley beyond the apartment courtyard along with several other families. Only Dad lit our firecrackers, although I’m sure my brothers wanted to try it. One I loved was a pinwheel which Dad stuck into a telephone pole. When he lit the fuse, the entire thing whirled round and round, throwing sparks in every direction. Little firecrackers on the ground did nothing but make popping noises, but the Roman candles gave us the real show. Big noise and showers of colorful sparks which delighted us. And finally, Dad lit sparklers we held. I loved whirling them round and round, watching the designs the sparks made. All too soon, they burned down to the end and we rushed to get another until the boxes were emptied.

    

We knew why we decorated our bikes, why people went on picnics and why we had fireworks on the Fourth of July. Our parents talked to us every year about what it meant to have Independence and how a war several years before was fought and won to ensure that we lived with freedoms like few other nations. We grew up knowing there was a serious side to the holiday. Even so, it was a special day we looked forward to every summer.

Honor Your Family Veterans--Include Them In Your Family Memoires Book

We tend to use Memorial Day weekend as the kick-off to summer. School is out, or nearly out, and winter-weary folks want to grill and go to the pool or beach. Way back, there was a song about the lazy, hazy days of summer. With all that in mind, the important part of Memorial Day can get shoved in the background. 

Last evening, Ken and I watched the annual Washington, D.C. Memorial Day Concert. This was the 25th anniversary of the show and it lived up to that special mark. It honored our men and women who have served their country and those who are presently serving. Parts of the show were difficult to watch and I had to grab my tissues more than once, but we need to be reminded of the sacrifices made by these patriots. 

It made me think that there should be a section in our Family Memories book for those in our families who served in the military. You can include stories of bravery and honors earned, humorous incidents that have been passed down through the years, and yes, the sad stories, too. We need to leave a record of all of this for future generations. 

Telling the stories is wonderful, but writing them so they are recorded forever is fantastic. Don't just think about it. Do it. You need not be a professional writer to do this. It's your family, your book, and you can write the stories. 

A childhood memory of mine in an excerpt from an essay written about the month of May, not about a specific military person but about how I learned to respect and honor our military people when I was but a child.:
May finishes with Memorial Day week-end. Every year from kindergarten through eighth grade, all the students in Lincoln School marched by classes to Carroll Playground across the street. Every class selected a boy to carry the American flag and a girl to carry a bouquet of flowers to lay at a commemorative plaque honoring all those who had attended Lincoln School and had given their lives during WWII and the Korean War. A solemn ceremony accompanied the laying of the flowers. In those days Memorial Day was always May 30th and we had the ceremony the day before, which just happened to be my birthday. Because of that fact, I was chosen to carry the flowers almost every year, and the strange thing is that no one ever complained. It was accepted, and it made me feel so very special. The parade of classes, the patriotic songs, the many American flags waving, the speeches, and the floral offerings all instilled a great sense of patriotism in me that lasts to this day.