On
one of the last days of 2013, I asked my daughter, Laura, if she had any
resolutions for the New Year. “The same as every year,” she answered, “to have
fun.” I might have been concerned that she didn’t have something more
substantial to aim for, if she wasn’t only 9-years-old. But now that I think
about it, isn’t that the goal of most everyone despite the lofty, life-altering
resolutions we make?
I
participated in one search for fun, early - too early - on a Saturday morning
in December. Santa made his annual ride
on a fire truck through our city. His drive down our street is preceded by an
hour or more of wailing sirens as he makes his way through town, tossing
candy to the children in various states of dress gathered in front of their
houses. But this year we were too deep in sleep to realize his impending
arrival until he was upon us. We sprang
from our beds, and Laura stumbled into her purple crocs, dashing outside in her
nightgown with her long, brown hair streaming behind her. I grabbed a plastic
Kroger’s sack and staggered outside after her so she would have something to
hold her handful of broken peppermints snatched from the sidewalk, rock-hard
Double Bubble plucked from the yard, and cracked Dum Dums scrounged from the
gutter. Up and down the street, the
neighborhood children scrambled to find the treasures that had been hurled into
the grass and leaves as their parents looked on with uncombed hair standing on
end and steaming cups of coffee clutched in their hands. Despite the early
hour, the excitement of the children was contagious as they squealed in delight
over the cheap candy.
This
scene is replayed every year on the morning after the Carols in the Park
celebration held in McNair Park, just around the corner from my house. I live
in El Lago, population about 3,000. But we are part of the Houston metropolitan
area, Houston being the 4th largest city in the United States. Neil
Armstrong and his family were living in my city when he walked on the moon. Astronaut
Ed White II was his next-door- neighbor, and after his passing in a tragic
launch-pad fire, the elementary school situated in the middle of El Lago was renamed in
his honor. (If you’re interested, you can visit our city’s Astronaut Wall of
Fame at http://www.ellago-tx.gov/misc/wof.htm
). El Lago has a small-town feel,
despite its location. McNair Park is one of our four city parks and was named in
honor of resident astronaut Ray McNair who died in the Challenger shuttle explosion.
Our city celebrations take place there, with our mayor cooking hot dogs and
hamburgers, children splashing in the pool or sliding down giant inflatable
slides, and neighbors chatting as we sit in lawn chairs in the grass. Carols in
the Park features the children’s choir from Ed White Elementary, hot chocolate
provided by the city, and cookies brought by the neighbors. Santa arrives to
hear the wishes of all the girls and boys. And the next morning, he makes
his candy-laden jaunt through the neighborhood.
This
year, as I stood watching the candy fly through the air, I was reminded of the
Mardi Gras parades I’ve attended in the city of Fairhope, Alabama, on the
eastern shore of Mobile Bay. Mobile claims to be the site of the earliest
organized Mardi Gras celebration in the U.S., and as suburbia migrated across
the Bay, the krewes and floats soon followed. On numerous frosty February
nights, I’ve stood on the concrete sidewalks of Fairhope, fingers numb, with
the cold snaking up my legs through the soles of my shoes, and waited, peering
through the white smoke of my own breath, for the floats to pass by. With music
blaring, the masked revelers would sling brightly colored plastic beads through
the air. My son, Davis, was just a baby, and he would sit, tucked down in his
stroller under several blankets, with his blue eyes big and his white, little
hands clasping the sides of the brim of his hat, wondering what all the
commotion was about. Those of us waiting would reach high for the flying plastic
beads and bend low for the Moon Pies dropped on the ground. I’m of the firm
opinion that a Moon Pie tastes best after it has been stomped on and then
heated slightly in the microwave. I recommend eating it with a fork after that.
My
point to these recollections is that whether it’s adults getting excited about
plastic beads and Moon Pies or children squealing over cheap candy, we’re all
just looking to have a little fun. Families tromp around the zoo or settle into
seats at the circus. Couples go to movies or dine at restaurants. Folks packed
like sardines into cars with their luggage tethered precariously to the top on pilgrimages
to a beach or an amusement park. And for people of all ethnicities and religions,
whether the individuals are well-heeled or just getting by, despite any
demographic qualifier used to sort and divide us, everyone has the same high
hopes - that a good time will be had by all.
When
Davis was just learning to talk, he said he wanted to have “a yittle bit of
fun.” And now Laura is searching for the same thing. As I waited on the
sidewalk outside my house on a December morning watching smiling children wave
to Santa and delight over the candy he tossed to them, I knew that a happy life
really just comes down to this - a little bit of fun found in candy pieces
dropped into the leaves or foil-wrapped pastries smashed on the street.
May
your tea be sweet and your cotton high,
Leigh Ann Thornton