October's bright blue weather

When we were growing up, Mom would often quote to us poems she memorized as a child in school. I can't say for certain, but I suspect they were from the famous McGuffey Readers used in schools throughout the country from 1836 through 1960. (I am a member of the Dick and Jane generation).

Her favorite was by Helen Hunt Jackson: Oh sun and skies, and clouds of June and flowers of June together, Ye can not rival for one hour October's bright blue weather. . . There is more to the poem, but that is all Mom quoted us.

The pond on the property where we are caretakers.

The past few weeks have certainly been bright, blue and beautiful. So yesterday when I visited Mom I decided to take her for a ride. The fall colors are almost at their peak. It was lovely.

We drove through Saugatuck. As we got off the highway and onto Blue Star Highway, Mom suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, I know where we are now!"

My thought was to drive through town and stop at a coffee shop for coffee and a muffin, but it was pretty busy so we opted for breakfast at a diner.

Mom has always been a huge fan of the "clean plate club," and often we would have to remain at the table until we cleaned our plates. She still is a big fan, however, now she has the annoying habit of pawning off her uneaten food on her dinning companions. If she knew what she was doing she would be horrified at her actions. But she doesn't and she can be content in the knowledge her plate is clean, while the rest of us must share the angst of losing our memberships.

We drove to the Oval Beach and watched the lake for a while. I prattled on about spending time there as children. I don't think Mom had any idea what I was talking about but chatter makes me feel better.

I was really, really small when our family and another family from our hometown would picnic on the beach evenings after work. Dad and his good friend would put the speed boat in the water in town and the women would drive to the beach, unpack our picnic dinner and wait for the men and the boat.

It wasn't long and the boat would come around the end of the south pier and Dad would gun the boat and fly up to the beach, killing the motor just in time to land gracefully in the sand. The men would then jump out of the boat in John Wayne fashion. Our heroes.

One evening they made a spectacular landing and Dad's friend jumped out of the boat, stripped off his shirt and removed his pants, expecting, I believe, to be standing there in his swimming trunks. Only he wasn't. He stood there in his whitie-tighties. No one said anything for probably a full 20 seconds. Finally Mom picked up his swim trunks and said, "Maybe you want to put these on."

Ahh the memories from our childhood that remain with us.