June Calls Us Home

It’s late June and the majestic Queen Anne’s Lace stands regally along the roadside.  It rises out of the ditches surrounded by soft light blue streams of chicory.  Orange day lilies bow and sway as a car zooms past.  Rows of bright green corn with newly emerged tassels stand sentry in the background.  If one looks closely one can spot nearly ripened wild blackberries growing in more tangled areas. The flora signals summertime has arrived. It signals the time of year that the Sparks clan to head towards Sharptown and to the home where they were raised. 

This year all have returned to the nest.  My sisters are here, all six of them and also my two brothers.  If one is counting, that makes nine.  The siblings have arrived from North Carolina, Indiana, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Connecticut. Four siblings have remained in Salem County and didn't have far to go. The roomy Sharptown home where they were raised waits for them as does Mom and Dad. Michael, the youngest sibling, is now 45.  I tip out on the other end, the oldest, at 56.  Our children range from six to 36. There are 23 grandchildren and 11 great grandchildren. The big house fills with laughter and noise. It is full again for a while.

Sparks Family 2012

The Sparks kids have not been children for a long time. But when we come together, we are children in spirit.   We laugh at the old times.   When grandson Ian, who is 29, catches a garter snake curled in the wheel well of sister Alice’s Indiana van, we share memories with the younger generation; of the time that Mom was driving down the road and a mouse crawled out of the fur collar of her coat.  Believe me there was a lot of screaming in the car that day and it wasn’t only Mom.

We share memories of pulling weeds in the garden and selling strawberries in front of the house.   We remember going muskrat trapping with Dad and helping him to skin and stretch the aquatic rats.  In the summer we would all jump into the back of Dad’s old pickup truck and head to Ocean City for the day.   The nine of us would ride in the back along with Judy Price, Susan, Bruce and Stephan Foster.   It was what people did back then.   There were no cars seats or seatbelt laws.  The wind would blow through our hair and flatten our cheeks as we excitedly anticipated eating the sand sprinkled bologna sandwiches and frolicking in the waves. Of course we came home sunburned and tired, it’s a lot of work “jumping those rollies,” as Dad would say.  Sometimes, Dad would stop on the way home and would buy ice-cream cones.  I bet they hated seeing us all line up at the window.  We were far from rich, but we never did without. 

Snake Handling

Dad was a pipefitter at DuPont.  Mom was a homemaker.  In the summer we ate food fresh from the garden where we helped dad plant the corn, tie up the limas and hoe between the rows. My sister Vivian summed it up when she told Dad and Mom, “While we didn’t have much like kids today, we had parents who disciplined us.  We had parents who taught us how to work hard and to give back.  They taught us right from wrong.  “I had a childhood that is rich in experience and memories. I have the best Mom and the best Dad in the world and I could never ask for more.”   The funny thing is that all nine of us have said the same thing over the years.

I know how lucky I am.  My entire family can still gather and enjoy each other’s company.   We weigh a little more; crow’s feet have formed at the corners of our eyes. There is sometimes a little stiffness as we get up in the morning. No matter what our physical bodies look like, when we are together we are children again.  And we have one thing in common.  It is our love for each other and for our parents.  Raising children of our own has taught us all something about the challenge of parenting and what our parents sacrificed for us.

Most importantly, we still have our parents with us.   Each year we watch our parents age a little more.  Dad’s dark brown hair that lasted through his seventies is finally giving way to gray.  Mom walks more slowly and seems quieter.  She worries about Dad and he about her.  Sister Peggy’s eyes flash concern as she watches Dad walk across the yard.  She comes home a couple of times the year and the change in our parents seems more dramatic to her.   Sisters Linda, Nancy and Vivian and brother Jimmy, live nearby and check in on our parents regularly.  Brother Michael from North Carolina understands the importance of his time together with our parents.

Our family has been blessed for many years.  We are intact.  As young children we would often fight and would gather the troops.  We would convince as many of our siblings as possible to be on “our side.”  (I’m surprised none of us ever entered politics.)  We may agree to disagree on many issues, but the well being of our parents is one area that will always bring us together.   For now it is the green of late June that brings us home.   For now we enjoy and appreciate the family we have around us.  For now we watch the Queen’s Anne’s Lace nodding ever so slightly in the breeze and remember childhood bouquets of wildflowers that we would pick and arrange.   This column is dedicated to my siblings… Peggy, Jimmy, Linda, Nancy, Carol, Vivian, Alice, and Michael. I love you all.