Written by Kellypea of Sass & Veracity

When I think of the Fourth of July, I think of picnics. No, not just any picnic, but an event that involves big groups of people and sometimes, yes, even spans more than one day. I'd like to say that the "more than one day" involved preparation for the event, but from what I remember, it was more about people showing up the day after to help clean up and then end up staying, breathing new life into the party. Goodness my parents knew how to have fun.

Earlier in my life, the groups were made up of extended family members who weren't all that picky when it came to choosing a picnic spot as long as they could see fireworks. And when fireworks weren't available, then someone's house worked just fine. But because my father was in the Navy, we moved quite a bit. Soon, the groups that gathered to celebrate Independence Day were made up of servicemen my father worked with and their families, brought together by their orders thousands of miles from home. Those were the very, very best of times.

My memories are rich with long hot summer days, barbeques with seemingly endless supplies of food, swarms of children running barefoot through the grass, and when adults weren't paying attention, plots to sneak sodas or sweets we weren't supposed to have. Of course we could barely wait for the fireworks at the end of a very long day, because the Navy provided the fireworks and we always had a front row seat. The drive home cramped in the back seat of a VW Bug with my brother and sister leave a lot to be desired, however.