Blessings to all
this 4th of July
May peace be
the order of the day
and
explosions
fireworks only.
Microsoft Clip Organizer photo
2015 Red Convertible Travel Series
Showing posts with label July 4th. Show all posts
Showing posts with label July 4th. Show all posts
Friday, July 03, 2015
Wednesday, July 03, 2013
July 4th Gunshot Celebrations
image courtesy of nirots/FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Clarksdale Press Register article 6/26/13
"It's something that we've grown accustomed to during the last few years. The 4th of July and New Years being rung in by the sounds of gunshots mixed in with the bottle rockets, Black cats and Roman Candles. The sheriff's deputies and Clarksdale police officers alike will surely be chasing calls in the hundreds as citizens make reports concerning the celebratory sounds they are hearing next week.
"Not that the geniuses that actually decide it's a good idea to fire weapons into the air are actually reading the newspaper, but hopefully others that can pass on this message, 'GUNSHOTS FIRED INTO THE AIR HAVE TO COME DOWN SOMEWHERE! THEY DON'T JUST DISAPPEAR!'
"The bullets travel up to a mile into the air (depending on the angle) and fall back to the earth at terminal speed.
"If we're lucky enough not to be hit by the returning bullets, they can still damage property and cause major repair bills.
"We celebrate the 4th of July to honor those who had to fire guns in order to protect our freedoms. Don't dishonor them by firing yours needlessly."
2013 Red Convertible Travel Series
Friday, July 01, 2011
Monday, July 14, 2008
The 4th Report
No goats roasted. Some folks toasted.
Host Ben is a river boat Captain and a master of Southern Hospitality who lives in the hills of Mississippi. In the shaded pasture near his house, Boston butts, barbecued ribs and chicken parts were grilled on a special-made king-sized double grill. Big families require big accommodations. The come-hither scent traveled throughout the acreage and into the house. About 100 people came with food in hand and healthy appetites.
Ed shucked pecans from their yard and made two delicious pecan pies. A neighbor made a two-layer chocolate cake presented on a pink Depression glass plate. Tina brought deviled eggs and beans. Ben's wife, Jimmy Nell, passed in '07. To include and honor her we dug out her '06 bread and butter pickles and pickled tomatoes.
Patty and I made potato salad, deviled eggs, doctored pork 'n beans, purple-hulled peas and cornbread. Brandi made coleslaw and her famous corn salad with all kinds of fresh veggies. Patty squeezed lemons and made two refrigerated lemon cream cheese pies. Bubbles brought an ice cream dessert. There were chocolate cupcakes frosted by a child who licked the edges before I noticed. Laughter could be heard in all quarters. Jimmy Nell would have been proud. Life is going on.
Meat goats, turkeys, a variety of small black and red chickens and a pair of Barbados black-belly, no wool sheep watched from a safe distance. I suspect the tropics affected their coats. They definitely weren't dressed for a Midwest winter. Feeling bold and safe with the grill cool, the goats came around at cleanup time expecting change-of-menu trash, but willing to eat the beer cans, if not. We made sure we didn't turn our backs on them. They can't resist a sneaky butt over the fence. What are they thinking? I know, a goat rodeo. They win.
Sunday we took Ben's pontoon boat out on man-made Enid Lake. In the distance I saw what looked like a forked campfire stick with a burnt marshmallow on top. A closer look revealed a dead tree sticking out of the water topped by an eagle's nest. The mother and two young did not want to be bothered. We didn't.
And I had my picture taken. Nobody will believe it. Sharon Osborn tells all before the media finds out. I'm not famous, but I'm telling before you hear it. Imagine this: I was sitting in the middle of the pontoon, the go between for cigarettes and beer. When I had one in each hand, I heard a click. For the record, neither touched my lips.
I hope you had an enjoyable 4th.
2008 Red Convertible Travel Series
Host Ben is a river boat Captain and a master of Southern Hospitality who lives in the hills of Mississippi. In the shaded pasture near his house, Boston butts, barbecued ribs and chicken parts were grilled on a special-made king-sized double grill. Big families require big accommodations. The come-hither scent traveled throughout the acreage and into the house. About 100 people came with food in hand and healthy appetites.
Ed shucked pecans from their yard and made two delicious pecan pies. A neighbor made a two-layer chocolate cake presented on a pink Depression glass plate. Tina brought deviled eggs and beans. Ben's wife, Jimmy Nell, passed in '07. To include and honor her we dug out her '06 bread and butter pickles and pickled tomatoes.
Patty and I made potato salad, deviled eggs, doctored pork 'n beans, purple-hulled peas and cornbread. Brandi made coleslaw and her famous corn salad with all kinds of fresh veggies. Patty squeezed lemons and made two refrigerated lemon cream cheese pies. Bubbles brought an ice cream dessert. There were chocolate cupcakes frosted by a child who licked the edges before I noticed. Laughter could be heard in all quarters. Jimmy Nell would have been proud. Life is going on.
Meat goats, turkeys, a variety of small black and red chickens and a pair of Barbados black-belly, no wool sheep watched from a safe distance. I suspect the tropics affected their coats. They definitely weren't dressed for a Midwest winter. Feeling bold and safe with the grill cool, the goats came around at cleanup time expecting change-of-menu trash, but willing to eat the beer cans, if not. We made sure we didn't turn our backs on them. They can't resist a sneaky butt over the fence. What are they thinking? I know, a goat rodeo. They win.
Sunday we took Ben's pontoon boat out on man-made Enid Lake. In the distance I saw what looked like a forked campfire stick with a burnt marshmallow on top. A closer look revealed a dead tree sticking out of the water topped by an eagle's nest. The mother and two young did not want to be bothered. We didn't.
And I had my picture taken. Nobody will believe it. Sharon Osborn tells all before the media finds out. I'm not famous, but I'm telling before you hear it. Imagine this: I was sitting in the middle of the pontoon, the go between for cigarettes and beer. When I had one in each hand, I heard a click. For the record, neither touched my lips.
I hope you had an enjoyable 4th.
2008 Red Convertible Travel Series
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
July 4th, 2008 Fireworks & Fundamentals
MSN photo
Our freedom to worship as we please, speak our mind, go where we please, become all we can be is what the United States of America is about. Democracy allows us the opportunity to be represented. I pray our United States of America stays united forever.
Over the 4th I'm going to Mississippi for a goat roast. And probably some goat rodeo, too. There's a story or two in the making.
I hope you have a safe, Happy 4th of July. God Bless.
2008 Red Convertible Travel Series
Friday, July 01, 2005
No flag, no parade, no hotdogs
As American citizens we didn't know what was involved with clearing customs, until we returned from Mexico. Before computerization, US agents looked through a huge, worn book. If the passport name was found, the person could not enter the US.
As I stood in line in Texas, I raced through my past. I had nothing to report. Still, I broke out in a sweat. We couldn't leave to eat or use the restroom. What will we do if we can't get in? What will happen to our kids? Where will we go? I understood kissing home ground.
While the agent searched, I held my breath. Satisfied we weren't felons, he stamped our passports, and said, "Next." Thank God.
Minnie and I were in Germany one July 4th without a small American flag, and didn't see one anywhere. We felt "foreign," out of place, but we would make the best of the day.
Our childhood holidays meant picnics and celebrations with extended family and community unless the wheat needed to be harvested. Ripe, it was too fragile to leave in the field. We wrote our names with sparklers and lit black caps on the sidewalk to make messy worms. Until July 4th summer was up and coming. After, it was downhill to school and winter.
White asparagus with hollandaise replaced hotdogs. For that I could give up hotdogs. A quiet walk in the country replaced a noisey parade, but without people to watch. Wild red poppies looked like a sea of onlookers waving flags at passing floats. That put some life into it. We waved back.
A quiet game of Rummy replaced yelling at a ballgame. We missed Mom's after-the-game root beer floats and malts with the homemade rich, creamy ice cream we'd worked all afternoon taking turns cranking. I love the taste of malt powder. The texture reminds me of sawdust.
From a hilltop after dark we saw a few fireworks from an American base. We couldn't smell them, and no children or dogs complained about the noise.
Our low-key, lonely celebration put into perspective that the rest of the world does not revolve around the US. It did deepen our pride in America, and strengthen our love and loyalty to home and country.
copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series
As I stood in line in Texas, I raced through my past. I had nothing to report. Still, I broke out in a sweat. We couldn't leave to eat or use the restroom. What will we do if we can't get in? What will happen to our kids? Where will we go? I understood kissing home ground.
While the agent searched, I held my breath. Satisfied we weren't felons, he stamped our passports, and said, "Next." Thank God.
Minnie and I were in Germany one July 4th without a small American flag, and didn't see one anywhere. We felt "foreign," out of place, but we would make the best of the day.
Our childhood holidays meant picnics and celebrations with extended family and community unless the wheat needed to be harvested. Ripe, it was too fragile to leave in the field. We wrote our names with sparklers and lit black caps on the sidewalk to make messy worms. Until July 4th summer was up and coming. After, it was downhill to school and winter.
White asparagus with hollandaise replaced hotdogs. For that I could give up hotdogs. A quiet walk in the country replaced a noisey parade, but without people to watch. Wild red poppies looked like a sea of onlookers waving flags at passing floats. That put some life into it. We waved back.
A quiet game of Rummy replaced yelling at a ballgame. We missed Mom's after-the-game root beer floats and malts with the homemade rich, creamy ice cream we'd worked all afternoon taking turns cranking. I love the taste of malt powder. The texture reminds me of sawdust.
From a hilltop after dark we saw a few fireworks from an American base. We couldn't smell them, and no children or dogs complained about the noise.
Our low-key, lonely celebration put into perspective that the rest of the world does not revolve around the US. It did deepen our pride in America, and strengthen our love and loyalty to home and country.
copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series
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