The year was 1958. I was seven. That meant I got to play in the early Softball games at the Fourth of July Picnic/Family Reunion. Nephews, Nieces and cousins galore. This was before everyone moved away and left town. Back then, we all stayed in one place.
Fourth of July was a massive holiday. We went down to the Valley and reserved both a picnic shelter and a baseball field. Sure there were other games, and swimming in the Quarries too. It was the Softball games that were the most watched - and the most played. The Seven to Ten year olds played first. Then Middle school kids. Then the Girls Played the Mom's. And everyone watched that one!
But the big game of the Day. Played after the huge grilled dinner and the day cooled down- was the HS kids agains the "Old Men." Usually there was an hour break or so between dinner and playing the game. Mostly because of ...well..dinner! Hamburgers, Hot dogs, Cheese burgers, Steaks, and even Ribs if Uncle Forrey brought his barrel. As many as you wanted. No fries, but potato chips, potato salad, egg salad, regular salad and a host of bean dishes were always there too. And back then, every Mom could cook, and did. And then came out the pies. Once in a while a cake, but for the Fourth of July it was mostly pies. Apple, Cherry, Blueberry, pumpkin, and lemon meringue so light it melted in your mouth. And those pies were made by Aunts and Mom's, who won local ribbons for baking. Oh, yeah.
And just like the grilled items, there was no limit. You could eat until you burst. And that is without counting unlimited sodas to boot! (Adults drank beer...and a few snuck some highballs in there too.) So yeah, most of us couldn't move for an hour.
There was still plenty of light, but the coming night had cooled down...a lot. And then it was on. The teens all took one bench, the "old men" the other. It was game on. And they played hard! It would be a decade before any of the teen Teams actually beat the "old men" - and even then it was close. If you were 21 or under, if you had a Dad, you couldn't play on the "old man" squad...so lots of times the teens had some power hitters. But the Old men ranged from 22 to 60...and they were born to play ball.
All the wives, Mom's, girlfriends, and sisters would cheer wildly for both teams. Not so among the boys and men. We chose sides. If you were still in High School, or younger, your rooted for and cheered fore the Teens. If you were married (no matter how old) you cheered for the "Old men."
It was furious, competitive as all hell, and fun to watch. People beat out bunts, burned a single into a double, and hit massive Home Runs that sailed out of the picnic area to cross the road and either roll, or splash into the Rocky River.
It was glorious.
At the end of the game. It was almost night time. Fireflies were already a step ahead of us. Every one of us old enough to walk, or run, had sparklers. Didn't matter if you were two, or twenty two. Fireworks ranged from finger snaps, to M80's. Roman Candles were shot into the air, and occasionally at a bewildered sprinting miscreant. Then the Adults took over.
And holy crap, they had everything short of a Mortar with Willy Peat. Then it was just hanging out in the dark talking story. Adults drinking beer, kids pops, and chips and pretzels were munched as stories were told, or an Uncle or Aunt pulled out a guitar and sang.
Sleeping gorged toddlers and five year olds with bloated tummies were carried to cars to be placed gently on the back seat floorboard. The transmission hump making a perfect pillow. Teens loaded up trunks, folded blankets (after shaking them out). Gloves, bats, balls, and assorted nets and rackets were stuffed into trunks too. Left over were split, and home we all went.
And for me, for a decade and a half, that was always my Fourth of July.
Grape Nehi, Orange pop, ginger ale, cream soda and root beer made the best floats. And I can still hear the sound of a bat blasting a soft ball out into the night.