It's the 4th of July. There are thunderstorms about. That combo always evokes this memory for me.
Backstory: Jillian's and Debbie's future fathers met in Perth, AU when they were both seaplane pilots in WWII. BFF and all that. They were in each others weddings and all that. In 1949, Ted and Bert became the proud fathers. Bert/Debbie lived in Marin County, CA. Ted/Jillian lived here in the Horse Capital of the World.
In 1966, the California Girl caught the fancy of some 22 y/o proto-hippie. Do the math. Faster than you can say "Daisy Miller", Debbie was on the plane to bucolics-ville. Unlike the mid-sixties California Girl stereotype, Debbie had short curly brown hair and was not skinny. However, she was very pretty and had "attributes" that tend to attract 22 y/o of all ages. Jillian, on the other hand was taller, skinny, just as pretty, had blue eyes and long blond hair to below her shoulder blades.
July 4th was a big night at the swim club. Live band, magician, fireworks, big cook-out... Jillian, naturally, brought Debbie. Gary and I were there stag (still a word?) because his girlfriend, Susan, was on vacation in Michigan and my girlfriend, Susan, was at a family reunion in New Hampshire. They were best friends, too. Very confusing.
Thunderstorm. Electricity blown-up. Gary and I were friends of Jillian from school and church. The four of us took off in Jillian's car to find food. And light. We ended up just off campus at a little Itallian place with the cliche red/white cheeked table cloths and candles in the reeded chianti bottles. There's a McDonald's there now! True.
We had pizza. Jillian drank iced tea with a lemon wedge. As we were getting ready to leave, Jillian ate the lemon wedge. Not just the pulpy part. She ate the rind and everything.
Debbie went back to Marin, left college after her freshman year, moved to a commune in Oregon, had 5 kids and weighed 275 when last heard from.
Jillian and I married in 1969.
I am partial to thunderstorms on the Fourth of July.
Comments
Does tourist traffic pick-up this week? And, if so, who's minding the store?
Next week we were going to be closed anyway, because it's bike week.
AKA hell on earth.
The stupid bikers come in, make noise, refuse to use mufflers, and make the usual tourists angry... at me! I hate biker week and so does my dad, so we close down the shop for it.
But after that horrible week is the three days of the reenactment... which is full of a bunch of people that think they know tons about the civil war... they don't.
I can immediately tell if they are civil war buff poseurs if they ask me where the battle field is....
they don't seem to understand that the whole stinkin' town is the battlefield.
*sigh* I can't stand the stupid questions.
However, some lady did pay me ten dollars the other day to borrow my seat for 5 minutes... that was nice.
swim, north like the UP?
Sparkle, you're welcome.
rayc, would it be okay if I asked "where is little round top?"
My fourth went okay, besides the fact I waited 2 hours and some of them went into the trees...
mem, It's too bad they wait until it's dark. Boring.
Little Round Top is right next to Devil's Den... the place I spent most of my childhood...
Ah... hiding in places where soldiers die just brings up such good memories.
I knew you were a cad... 
And I've written my new blog BTW.
rayc205
So far, in my sixteen years of pathetic-ness, I have not had a memorable Fourth of July. They usually involve me plugging my ears as motorcycles drive by and tourists gaping at my house wondering if ghosts live there... fortunately I no longer live in town, so fourth of July is just blah.