Tag Archives: fireworks

The fourth of July is…

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clouds at six forty five. no fire pits open. A Christmas Miracle: a fire pit on the often-forgotten RV side of the park. 7:10 and on the beach, emailing. still cloudy. gluten-free granola and yogurt. on the blanket. under the umbrella. with my bff, and a crossword. 7, 8, 9. Three crosswords, cranberry bread. Coffee from our newly purchased 28 ounce Thermos. Cloudy, cloudy. Multiple trips to the clean (but only by Corelyn and Jennie beach-appropriate stance) bathroom. Cannot fall asleep. Quiet ocean. Hanson, The Fray. Inappropriate friend music, because Cor and I can. crazy creek chairs. More coffee. Reading, reading, book club book to be finished. 9:30. “Marco” and 11 am and friends. Sun peaking, peaking. Laying under blankets. Curling up. Now sweatshirts off. Sun peaking, peaking out.Sunshine. Time flying: snacks. chocolate cake. Wardrobe change number 1: bathing suits, cover ups. Sunscreen. 11 to 12. Sandwiches, turkey cheese and lettuce. Cheese-its. Jeff, bike, table, food, cooler. More friends. Snacking, snacking, Scrabble. Travel scrabble. Sun peaked, out and open. sunscreen. Bare legs, blanket spread. Umbrella flying, flying away, and caught. Digging a hole, and reburied. Flying away again, digging a second hole. Stay. put. please. Skipping the Hanson song, new playlist. New iPod. Jay’s, because his music diversifies all. Sunscreen. Scrabble, more friends, twenty strong. Laughing, sunshine, waves huge against the shore. Solar noon, one o’clock. Calls from friends, packing it in, parking miles away. Parking far, along the beach trail, sitting on the beach, waiting for friends. Coolers everywhere, chips, bags of chips. Pretzels. Cousins arriving. Ocean, swimming to the breaking point. “Don’t worry, I’m a certified lifeguard.” Swimming, ocean throwing us back to shore, saying “thank you very much, but I’d rather be alone, today.” Sandy, to the showers. Warm shower, unlike Rocky Neck, warming my body and soul. Back to the blanket fortress. Those are our friends. We bring the party: we bring the funk. Twenty six strong. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Should we grill? Paper plates, reorganization of the table: chips, dessert, coolers. Corn? Who brought the corn? Charcoal ready, orders taken: fifteen hot dogs, fifteen hamburgers, cheese on most burgers, veggie burgers, corn, kabobs. “Last call for the grill” twice, two more burgers, finish off the hot dogs. Bun me. Bun me. Ketchup, mustard, bun me. Lighting the grill twice to cook all that burger, kabobs. “Who wants veggies?” Log cabin fire pit, and seven pm. “Look at all the boys, trying to start the fire!” Wardrobe change number 2. Trouble starting the fire. “Hey, do you need some help starting your fire?” Fire dancers, performing for us, two strong, boom box out. Fire finally, finally started. Grill off, burgers made, everyone full. Sun setting. Catch phrase. “Ponies!” told again. Accusations of conspiracy, and replaced by others to move onto another circle of friends. Lovely, lovely castle girls. Four of us together again. Fire started, moving towards with all friends surrounding me. S’mores, s’more sticks, because Becca rocks. Mallow. Graham. Chocolate. friends. Laughing, smiling, talking. Fireworks on the beach. Fireworks far off, Malibu, Marina del Ray, Santa Monica. Fireworks on the RV park beach. Dockweiler, you crazy thing you. Fireworks everywhere, quiet noise sweeping across the ocean. Some good byes. Laughing, hugging, taking photos. Smell that ocean, smell that fire. Singing patriotic songs, fireworks. Some more good byes. Some more singing, mallows, chocolate. Fire, add the logs…fire. Sing that Smash Mouth, because everyone knows the words. New friends, old friends. Dying down, number minimized to the original group – because we bring the party. Packing up. Hold on, I need my headlamp. Bike to the car, because he can. Breaking down our fort. Headlamp, lantern. Loads to the car. Sand, everywhere. Packing it up, packing it in, packing it home. Friends say good bye, final time that night. Hugs, all around, between us all, more than 30 by the time we were done. See you soon, see you soon, see you tomorrow, see you later, see you at book club, see you at the movies, see you Wednesday, see you when you return, see you when I cook you dinner, please come over soon.

Car. quiet. fireworks about the city. Sleep, tired. Sun, sunburn, sun down, sun gone, good night. Light up the night sky, say goodbye. sleep.

Jeff: ok
I just don’t want it to spread too far too fast. I guess we should have ED take a look at that as well when he comes.

Yes, I'd like to introduce you to my 90 cousins.

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I got a call from my mom last night that said, “Hey hun, call me back.” Usually, this means someone in our family has passed away. I called her back, and she informed me that my Great Aunt Louise had died. Now, for some people, your Great Aunt is someone you see rarely, if at all, maybe at family reunions, maybe at funerals, and weddings. But in my giant Italian family, your Great Aunt is your Aunt, who happens to be older than your Aunts. Now, I have tried to explain this concept to Jeff many a time, and it’s hard for him to understand, which makes sense, because not everyone has a grandma who was one of 12.

And yes, Nikki, it’s 12. For those of you who read my blog and are in my family, I think you should take this time to refer to the Geni tree I made, which you can join and update. It’ll help us all remember who’s who and who’s where.

I made the family tree so I could know just that: how many greats are there in my family? How many cousins do I have (the answer is 90, and counting.) There are a lot of us. Geni says I have 199 relatives. And, let’s be honest, there are probably more, some babies forgotten, or not yet added.

Nikki’s post was spot on about my family. Family picnics each year, celebrations of even the smallest holiday, crowding into a hall for a holiday party. There were: popcorn balls, hot dogs, pools, fireworks, macaroni, swings to swing in, babies, aunts, uncles, cousins by the score, cousins girlfriends, boyfriends, fiances, spouses, and another round of family. Orange drink, balloon tosses, swimming in the pond, volleyball, the planting of trees, easter egg hunts in backyards, always being able to find a friend, always being able to form a team for any sport, softball in the field, presents from Santa, breakfasts at diners, dishes to clean, arguments to have, macaroni, salad, olives, seafood on Christmas, macaroni, more arguments, coca colas, pictures to look at, and some more macaroni. Graduations, weddings, funerals, birthday. Having the family over for coffee and cake. Uniting as an army of Iannuccis for each other, sending food, flowers, hugs, and love.

We may have lost some family over the years, but we’re gaining family, too. We have new babies, some even on the way, that will keep our family strong, who will drink orange drink at the Family Picnic, who will always find a friend, a teammate, and a plate of macaroni. This crazy family has made each and everyone of us stronger, and for that I will always be thankful that I can call each of my cousins, whether they be first or twice removed, my cousin, my friend, my family. My immediate family will always include all 90 cousins, and all the various aunts, uncles, and grandparents to go with them.

And so, although I cannot be with my family, I am thinking of them right now, in this hard time, and knowing the Aunt Louise is in a better place. And she’s with the rest of our family, and I’ll bet they are screaming, and yelling, and laughing, and remembering old times, and I’ll bet that they are eating some macaroni. As it should be. And so, Aunt Louise, say hi to Aunt Pat for me, and Grandpa, and you know, the rest of them up there. I miss you all, and I’ll be seeing ya, eventually. In the meantime, save me a plate.

A photo of some of my immediate family, at the camp site, at the Family Picnic, in 2009.