Is It The 4th Of July Already?

  Summer seems to be rushing by like it’s late for a train.

  What happened to spring?

  Did I miss it?

  My beloved city is empty, the rich fleeing like rats with suitcases.

  Tourists take their place in shorts and cleavage spilling from Some Like It Hot and Lion King T-shirts, giving it a Disney feel.

  If Mickey and Minnie were at Whole Foods buying cheese, it wouldn’t surprise me.

  I watched an over-fed family park themselves in front of an old Vanderbilt mansion, now a museum, spreading their fast-food lunch across its steps.

 Obesity continues to perplex me since I always want to ask…how did this happen?

 As a true flaneur I merely observe and reverently remember.

 My mother was very patriotic. You’d think it would have been my father being the veteran, but it was she who made him hoist our flag with its ever proud mustard stains.

 We had an annual picnic at Auntie Ida and Uncle Danny’s house on 226 Churchill Road, in Trumbull.

 Who can forget the aluminum trash can my Aunt packed with ice and bottles of beer, 7-Up and Coco-Cola; my Uncle manning the grill, blackening chickens, flipping burgers beside hot dogs and ears of corn.

  I can taste my mother’s signature potato salad she entered in a Good Housekeeping contest, receiving an honorable mention.

 Them were the days alright.

 I’m sitting in front of Butterfield Market watching kids with ice-cream dribbling down their chins like a rite of passage.

 I saw myself at our local Dairy Queen with my Dad asking…so, the usual Suz…vanilla with a cherry dip?

 Yes please Daddy.

 There’s something so poignant when the past and present meet, the elder reaching for that napkin to wipe the kid’s chin.

 Is it the 4th of July already?

 I believe it is.             

  SB