The summer promise
I promise not to complain about the heat all summer. I promise to eat lots of corn on the cob (preferably yellow or bi-color, white is just so trendy). I promise to eat peaches and let the juice drip down my arms. I promise to make a dinner out of fat slices of juicy red heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil. I promise to only wear four items of clothing at a time. And not to wear any shoes that cover my toes except during athletic endeavors. I promise to make iced tea from my leftover breakfast tea and add a sprig of the mint I'm growing in my garden. (OK, that has taken over my garden and is threatening to eat the house.)
What inspired all this was that my husband and I were having breakfast on the back porch this morning. ...
After we finished (this now swerves wildly off topic), he brought out his mother's old yearbook. She got her certificate of nursing from Temple University in 1936. In among its pages was a yellowing newspaper clipping from the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin of the graduation ceremony, which listed all the graduates. Can you imagine a big-city paper doing that these days?
There were also a couple of human interest stories. One was about John Raymond Hendrickson, the outstanding honor graduate, who took 40 courses in four years and made an A in all of them. (He was a Latin major.) The other was on the fact that five sets of twins were in the graduating class.
After I looked at the clipping, I folded it up reverently, not just as a bit of family history but because for the first time I thought, this is a bit of history about how the news used to be delivered. My yet-to-be-born grandchildren may never see a paper newspaper of their own.
Also next to the stories was a supermarket ad for Snellenburgs. A can of Hormel Spiced Luncheon Meat, which was pictured, cost 35 cents. I tell you that not because it's cheap; we all know things cost more these days. But that must be the precursor of Spam, right?
It's so much more attractive a name. I wonder why they changed it.