Christmas Memories on a June morning.

As I write, I pause and glance out my window.  I can see branches that are full of green leaves. I watch as they sway from side to side in the wind.  It is another cloudy day with a chance of heavy rain excepted later in the afternoon. The forecast is that the temperature will only reach in the mid-fifties.  This weather is unusual for early June in North Carolina. Here temperatures usually reach into the eighties at this time of year. But today the clouds stay in place, hovering above.  The winds are gusting. The lack of sunshine and the cooler temperatures remind me of growing up in New Jersey. Today feels like it might have felt if I was in New Jersey on a late fall November afternoon.  In New Jersey, It would be the type of day that you would avoid venturing out. But, over time, the fall rainy days cease, the sun returns, and the air becomes cold and crisp. We bundle up and with hats, and mittens, venturing out again as we prepare for Christmas.  
As I reflect on the cooler air this June day in North Carolina, my thoughts drift to a time when I was young. Memories swirl in my mind as I reminisce about those New Jersey late fall days and the seasons that followed. Winter and Christmas come to mind, and a pleasant memory emerges. 
I was nine years old. My cousin Bambi and I were given permission to Christmas shop on our own for the first time. It was a privilege, and It made me feel like a grown-up.  Bambi, who is three days my senior and I would be allowed to ride the bus to Asbury Park. That was where everyone from our small community did their shopping.  That shopping adventure and my first solo bus ride would mark a milestone in growing up. 
 That day came and on one cold December afternoon. Bambi and I  waited on the corner of 13th Avenue and Main Street for the bus that travels from Belmar to Asbury Park  I remember gazing out the bus's window looking at all the storefronts in the towns we passed through. In Belmar, We passed Schotoz's five and dime, the movie theater, the post office, and the big bank building on the corner.  All of those buildings familiar because they were the places that my grandmother and I would walk to when I stayed at her house.  The bus continued on through Belmar, to  Bradley Beach, Avon by the Sea, and Ocean Grove. The excitement of our adventure soon turned to nervousness as the streets and storefronts became less familiar. The eight-minute trip to Asbury Park began to feel like we had been on the bus for hours. Suddenly, Bambi and I could see the decorated windows of Steinbach's department store on the corner of Cookman Avenue.  The bus door opened, and we hopped down the big bus steps.
There Bambi and I stood in front of the store with the best magical Christmas display in town.  That year's animated Christmas display. Featured Rudolf, whose head and legs moved to the tune of Here Comes Santa Claus. Bursting with excitement, I looked in awe at Santa's sleigh, which was overflowing with brightly colored and perfectly wrapped gifts. I secretly wondered if one of those gifts might have my name on it. Quickly  I tried to think back through the past year to determine if there was any indiscretion that I might have to atone for before Christmas. Setting the question aside, Bambi and I shopped all afternoon amid the never-ending Christmas decorations.  Using money that I had saved throughout the year and the little extra my mother gave me, I bought the best gifts that I could find. I bought perfume for my mother, a tie for my dad and balsa wood airplanes for my brothers and I finished my shopping with the selection of a warm scarf that I choose for my a scarf for my grandmother. When we were done with our purchases, Bambi and I went across the street to the soda fountain. I ordered a chocolate Ice cream soda, and Bambi ordered french fries, we shared our treats then quickly and rushed back to the bus stop. I was frightened that we might have missed the bus, and the sun was beginning to go down. Shortly the bus arrived at the stop across from Steinback's Department store on Cookman Avenue in Asbury Park New Jersey on that cold, crisp day.  It was a trip that I will always remember, especially on a chilly June day in North Carolina.

Catching fireflies

   

Do you remember chasing fireflies on a warm summer evening?  I remember the thrill and the excitement I felt as a child as I ran through the back yards of our neighborhood. The sun was setting and the moon was rising. The smell of lilacs floated in the air. We had dirty summer bare feet. full of dust and dried mud. No one cared that our feet became dirty as we walked barefooted down the dirt road where we lived called Locust Court. We visited our neighbors on sweltering summer afternoons to drink lemonade, chat and say hello. We were young, tanned, and sweaty. All the joys of summer were ahead of us and were ours to explore.

IN June after school let out for the summer, the fireflies would appear. Slowly at first, we would see them one or two at a time. Their numbers increasing with each passing minute.

It was the beginning of summer when the sky was full of twinkling lights from the bright stars above and the magical fireflies began to rise from the ground. that I, my brothers, and our friends would run in pursuit of those mysterious flashes of light.  We would gently scoop up those magical creatures with our bare hands and carefully place the insects in a glass jar with holes punched into the lid for air. The jars were lovingly prefilled with blades of grass a twig or two and a piece of moist paper towel.  We believed that these items would ensure our little friends' survival until they arrived at the place where they paid children one dollar for one thousand fire sometimes we would catch fireflies in mid-flight then bragging to our friends of our bug catching skills. If one was quick-footed you could carefully pick the winged creatures out of the freshly mowed summer grass where they landed, before they took to flight again. We would run, chase, and collect fireflies until we heard the welcoming song of the ice cream man's truck. We would wait in line to choose our favorite frozen treat. I would order a sky blue pink ice pop. Although there was no such treat by that name the man in truck aways knew what I wanted. I sat with my friends in the cool grass until we were called by our parents to come home for a bath and bedtime. But until then the running catching and counting of fireflies continued. We would call out to each other after each successful capture adding to our count ten, fifteen. twenty, and so on.   Hoping each night that we would reach elusive the goal of one thousand captured fireflies. Why one thousand you might ask.  One thousand is the number of fireflies that must be caught in order to send them to the people that would pay kids one dollar for fireflies.  

We never reached that elusive goal of one thousand fireflies in that jar. Each night a parent would take pity on the poor insects and grant them their freedom. Each morning we would be told the magical creatures escaped and the chasing and counting would begin again when the sun set and the moon rose. We never received the one dollar in the mail which was a small fortune to children who bought ice cream from a truck. We did not even realize or care that dividing .that one dollar by fourteen would have resulted in each child getting a whopping seven cents.

As I look back and remember those hot summer nights, I realize we never received that treasured one dollar in the mail from the people who pay children for one thousand fireflies. But the priceless treasure of lasting friendships, the joy of having hope in a future gift, and the fullness and pleasure of the simple things in life. Are the priceless gift we received in return for a few fireflies. During this time as many of us are staying home, we can try to catch one thousand fireflies. If you do put them in a jar and mail them to the people who pay one dollar.