Summer Sundays began with the walk to church for 9:00am Mass . Mom had us decked out in our best. My brothers and I in fine sport jackets, clip on bowties and I had my Frank Sinatra hat. I loved that hat. My sisters in dresses mom made. Mom made all their dresses and her own as well. She was a whizz at sewing. At church mom and my sister Pat went to the choir loft. My little sister, two older brothers, and I went with dad to the 3rd or 4th pew where I couldn’t see anything due to being too little. The mass was in Latin, so besides not being able to see anything I couldn't understand anything either. Instead I took in the beauty of the church with the statues of the Blessed Virgin and the carving of the stations of the cross. Even then it was the colors of the different carvings and the pictures decorating the old church that I liked seeing. As the priest read us his sermon I looked at the carvings of the beams and supports overhead.
After mass, dad gave me a couple dollars for sweet rolls at Shobe’s store just across from church. Shobe’s was a tiny store barely big enough for a couple adults to move around. I picked out the requested danish and long john rolls, handed Mr. Shobe the two dollars and asked if there was enough for a bag of marbles. With a grin Mr. Shobe handed me a bag of marbles. “Always enough,” said that grin of his. Dad never asked for change, seeing the marbles in my hand. I raced to catch up with mom and dad who chatted with neighbors on their way home. Francis, Annie, Mike and Cathy were home by the time I caught up with mom and dad. They were setting the breakfast table, just waiting for us now. Neighborhood news caught up on, Mom and Dad sent me ahead.
After sitting at the kitchen table nibbling on my danish and telling my dad what I had done during the week, I waited for my brothers and sisters to tell dad what they had done. Working two jobs, dad didn't have much time during the week to catch up on everything. Sunday breakfast was different. Dad liked sitting at the table hearing everything we did - from inspecting my drawings to hearing the names of my little sisters' dolls . I had to explain one of my drawings wasn't Mrs. Martin, but rather of St. Joseph, done during the week when the entire school had attended church. Only then, during those mornings at before-school masses, could I see those statues on the North side of church. Dad talked to me about paying attention in church. My second grade Nun had already caught me drawing in church. She had explained things with a slap to the head and moved me to the pew directly in front of her where she could swat me, which she did even when I wasn't drawing. I was sure she was a mind reader. Just looking over at Janie Swarthz got me a good one to the back of my head.
With breakfast finished, we changed out of our Sunday best. Dishes done, we piled into Gram’s car for our Sunday road trip. Some days Dad just took us sightseeing. Other days, to a relative's house for a visit. Uncle Paul's and Aunt Coreen’s meant we'd see Uncle Paul's trains. Then it was on to Uncle Melvin's dairy farm where we ran from the car to the farm yard. Pulling ears of corn from the corn crib, we fed the chickens, ducks and a mean goose. Sheep and goats just stood watching us. Sometimes the goats would charge us and we'd duck into the hen house where we were held captive until cousin Maryann saved us.
When either my older brother or sister were done visiting in the house, all us kids climbed the pasture gate and headed to the creek. The cool clear water was the best. Just standing in the clear water seeing tiny fish swimming around our white feet was a treat. Cousin Maryann, with her rolled-up jeans, led us exploring down the creek to a fence we had to duck under. She led us to an old maple syrup house for more exploring. There had once been another farm here but only the syrup house remained. Dozens of wood buckets stood staked and rotting. A metal tub, covered in moss, was now home to mice and other creatures of the woods. Ten minutes of looking around, and then back to the creek we went. We collected pretty stones along the way to take home, forgetting them in the car for Gramps to wonder how stones got there.
The cows would be lining up for the afternoon milking, or maybe just heading to the barn for a break from the summer sun. Butterflies, by the hundreds, lined the muddy banks. Maryann said butterflies liked the cow's urine. That bit of information stopped us from proceeding any further. Until it was time to go, we splashed around, trying to stay cool. Mom and Aunt Elizabeth would come to watch us kids for a while, while dad tinkered with a tractor. Dad was great at fixing motors. That was his thing. He never came home from the junkyard without an old motor. All those summer days are re-lived in my studio now.
