When the Funny Grandson arrives at the lake there are certain traditions that are upheld no matter what the weather.

First of all, he scrambles into his bathing suit, runs down the hill to the dock and jumps in the lake. Before he could swim he would run into the lake.

This year, with Idaho having had the coldest and wettest May on record, many adults tried to persuade the FG to wait until the water warmed up. This grandmother wasn’t one of them. Tradition is tradition, after all.

The traditional Welcome Back dinner consists of shepherd’s pie. And the first breakfast? Well, you can guess:

There will always be blueberry cake.

When I think of childhood summers I remember my grandmother’s blueberry pancakes, catching turtles, learning to swim in the dark murky waters of Hundred Acre Pond, riding my bike, eating chocolate chip ice cream, roller skating in the driveway, and on and on…

Scraped knees and dirty feet. Mosquito bites. Crickets and whipporwills. Rowing a boat. Dusty stacks of Reader’s Digests.

Do you worry, as I do, that today’s children don’t have those kinds of summers? You know what I mean, the play-outside-until-it’s-dark summers when you go to bed with a sticky combo of dirt and marshmallow still on your chin?

What is your favorite childhood memory? Do you worry that today’s children aren’t outside having adventures, getting dirty, playing innocently with a horde of neighborhood kids?

Last month while Face timing, the FG warned me, “Grandma, you’re not gonna see much of me this summer. I’m gonna be fishing, hunting arrowheads, swimming and in my kayak.”

Sounds perfect, I replied. Will you come up for dinner?

Oh, yes, he assured me. He would always show up for dinner.

Helping to make brownies. 2015
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2 Responses to traditions

  1. TomF says:

    Summer has arrived for you!

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