Uncle John arrives in his new green pickup loaded with heavy park district picnic tables. Aunt Marie directs my Dad and other uncles on where to put them. Grandpa and Grandma are busy hugging grandkids. Well, Grandpa not so much. Aunt Marie and Uncle Hank have the neatest farm, with its orchard and a pond with a Model T Ford half submerged in the middle of it. The dozen giant oak trees are what most fascinate me. They almost reach the clouds as they sway in the breeze. Behind the small white barn is the orchard with pears and apple trees and the old three seater outhouse (still used for all the family gatherings) and two calves sucking on cousin’s hands.
Picnic tables, scrubbed and dried, are covered with red checkered oil cloths and the food is brought out. Dad made German potato salad, Mom made an upside down cake. Food for an army. Smoke from the hamburgers and polish sausages drift over the scene. Kids are fed first, then the ten uncles. Grandpa is stretching his legs while Grandma is resting from all the attention giving. Cousins are turned loose as all my aunts take to the picnic table to catch up on the news. Jimmy and Johnny Hansen show how cats always land on their feet when you drop them.
A walk down the road to tire the little ones out is led by older cousins. Horses drift up to the fence to see the parade and get hands full of grass.
The next day Mom takes me to the Carlsen Paint Store to buy a Walter Foster art book, How to Draw Horses. Did I mention I asked for one when saying my nightly prayers?
