A Perfectly Perfect Day

Had a perfectly perfect day.  Got started about 7 on our 4th of July picnic.  Took a boat down the river to a cave + had our lunch in a nice cool place + then the gang all went swimming + I went wading + managed to get most of me wet.  The ride back in late afternoon was beautiful - the river was so pretty.  Got caught in the city going and coming in ginbows.  Had so much fun today.  - Annette, July 1941

 

Every July 4th, I play an orchestra concert in a nearby town.  We meet for a 3hr rehearsal, and after a short dinner break, we perform on an outdoor stage for hundreds of people having picnics with their friends, family, and loved ones.  Marches are played.  Veterans are honored.  Fireworks close out the show.  A few years back, one of my colleagues and I decided that even though we were there to perform, we wanted to enjoy a picnic, too!  Now, we coordinate our menus, pack up our picnic kits, and head out to work.  During our dinner break, we find a shady spot, spread out our blankets, and enjoy the calm, quiet moments before the concert starts.  We brave the rain, the bugs, and the heat, and it is all worth it. 

This 4th was particularly nice - low humidity, nice breeze, not a single rain cloud.  It was perfectly perfect, just like Annette's day.  Although, we didn't have river boats or swimming holes.  Nor did we have air raid alarms to worry about.  Annette was in China at the beginnings of the war, and she lived through some dangerous times.  I love that on her first July 4th away from home, she was still able to have a picnic and enjoy time with friends.  

In this country, July 4th is synonymous with picnics and fireworks.  But not everyone gets to take time off to be with their families.  I am luck to have a job that allows me to spend time with my friends and family, even while working.  I hope all of you had a wonderful July 4th, and I hope we can all be grateful for the sacrifices of others, whether in 1776 or 2018, that make that day possible. 

All Through Life

It is Sunday + we keep reminding our boy he is one year old.  May God watch over our darling boy all through life.  And each successive birth-day find him as pure + sinless as he now is.  And may God help us to live right + train our little darling up to be a noble christian man.  - Frances, April 1891

 

Birthdays are a cause for celebration, but particularly so in the 1890s.  Frances had 6 children - one little girl died as a baby, and from what I can gather, she had a stillborn or miscarriage as well.  Birthdays were a celebration of life - and survival.  People didn't talk much about the losses.

Even today, miscarriages are considered a taboo topic.  I have had friends and family members go through this terrible loss, and each one of them has said how lonely it felt.  They felt they couldn't talk about their experience.  

Who do we turn to in the horrible times?  What about the joyous times?  Frances's faith in God was central to her identity.  On her son's birthday, she offered up prayers to God to help her protect, teach, and care for her young child.     

What helps us through the celebrations and and the sorrows?  How do we connect?  Or share?  Or ask for help and guidance?  Some people choose religion.  Others a network of family and friends.  Some have faith in something else altogether.  I don't believe that there is a right answer.  I do believe that sometimes the hardest thing in the world is feeling alone.  What if we all took a moment to share in someone's joy?  Share in their tears?  Share in their anger?  Share in their fear?  Share in their hope?