Wednesday, July 4, 2018
July 4th Roundup-Aftermath
Mom looks like Katherine Hepburn, her best friend Betty looks like Donna Reed and her other best friend Margaret looks like Loretta Young. Movie stars, the three of them. Right now they are doing dishes, it's late at the lake. The men? They're sitting out in the yard, lying to each other, that's what the old man calls it anyway.
Ginny's mom, Betty is divorced, Ginny hates, with the power of a thousand burning suns, her mom's boyfriend Mike. I don't like him either. I get the feeling nobody likes him, except Betty. I've heard bachelor Bert mutter, "Jesus what an asshole" more than once.
We only have two bedrooms at the lake, 5th wheel Bert and the two couples are staying in Mentor at a drive up to the door motel. At the last minute, Ginny finds out she is staying with us. She storms out of the cabin yelling "I hate you, you are disgusting!" Ginny knows what's up.
Mom and dad are standing out in the driveway saying goodbye, they are loud and laughing. I join Ginny on the front porch steps, I start to say something and she says 'Just shut up." We sit and slap mosquitoes.
The old man comes out on the porch, he's got a shopping bag, Roman candles are sticking out of it. I perk up, he says, "Come on you two, let's have some fun. We head down the steps to the dock.
These aren't regular roman candles, they are mortars, military grade fireworks. The old man says,"Ralphie's dad ordered them special for us, not supposed to have them." Ginny is momentarily un-pissed, I'm so excited I feel like I have to.
"Ka-god damned-boom" a red ball of fire arcs out over the lake, it must be 200 hundred feet in the air, then another and another, red, green, yellow balls of fire. The old man hands me one of the candles. You could hold off a Panzer attack with one of these babies...the old man lights it with a Zippo. My arm recoils, Holy shit, a burning red glob of fire shoots across the lake. Ginny is jumping up and down. My eyes are as big as saucers, the old man is laughing, "point up a little more, Jesus not that high, it'll come down on your head...blam, blam, blam. This great!
The old man lights the last two for us, Ginny has one and so do I. Boom, blam, ka-boom. This is so good, I think we both have our first orgasms!
Back up the steps from the dock to the cabin, we're laughing, mom isn't, she's on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, she looks at the old man and says, "I'm glad you're having fun." The old man announces he's, 'going to bed". Ginny and I help mom clean up. Done, Mom smokes a cigarette out on the porch, she's tired and pissed. Ginny, pissed again, sits next to her on the porch swing, mom puts her arm around Ginny's shoulder, Ginny is sobbing, mom is patting her hair. No place for me, I stay away, lips zipped. Like Ginny, I know what's up.
Mom goes to bed, Ginny crawls in with my sister, my little brother is on the cot in the "kid's room". I'm on the sofa in the living room, wide awake under a Hudson Bay blanket, a red one with black stripes.
Labels:
4th of July,
family,
fireworks,
friends,
friendship
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Nuttin' like a happy Fourt-a-Yool-eye.
ReplyDeleteGinny's mom married Mike, they were married for almost 40 years. I went to Betty's funeral. I hadn't seen Ginny for many years, she still hated Mike. She inherited her mom's home and business, literally threw Mike out in the street, told him to take his car and clothes and get out of my house. Ginny was a Sr VP of a huge company in Minneapolis at the time, the inheritance meant nothing to her, but she got her revenge.
DeleteGood thing you didn't marry Ginny. She sounds like one tough cookie.
DeleteI'm still marveling at how your dad lights a grill.
ReplyDeleteHe did it once, never again under penalty of death.
DeleteYour mind is still facile, Bob. Great memories. You celebrated the fourth with a different accent than we did in the mid century Indiana. The Drive In theaters put on fireworks displays. Dad washed the windshield with newspapers-crystal clear. Mom made a basket full of sandwiches, a bag or two of chips and off we went. My brother John and I shared the back seat of the Buick Roadmaster--we could have invited all of the neighborhood kids to join us, it was so roomy. It was a magic time.
ReplyDeleteTom as I think back my parents and their friends, they were so young, all in their 30's, none of them had hit the big 4-0. All WWII vets, dad a pilot, Bobby a tanker in the 3rd AD, Bert in the Pacific Fleet and ahhh Mike 4-F
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