”
I am happy to see such a good attendance,
”
Don Anderson said as he beamed out upon the alert and
intelligent faces of the Roses for Moses Society.
”
It is especially heart-warming because this is our long-awaited
Summer Solstice Celebration.
”
“I am happy to see such a good attendance,” Don Anderson said as he beamed out upon the alert and intelligent faces of the Roses for Moses Society. “It is especially heart-warming because this is our long-awaited Summer Solstice Celebration.”
“I don’t know if Don should be wearing short pants with his bird legs,” Gary Young whispered to Fernando Gonzalez. “Shhhh!” Gonzalez replied. “It’s part of his costume for the program.”
“We are all familiar with summer,” Anderson continued, “and we all are grateful for the benefits it brings to us. John, would you tell us what you think of summer.”
“Certainly.” Hodges arose, smiled at his friends and began. “I’ve loved summer since I was a boy. I remember getting out of bed as the sun streamed through the windows and smiling in gratitude at what the summer had brought. ‘Hoo boy,’ I said to myself. ‘No school for months and months.'” He bobbed his head in appreciation of the applause his colleagues rendered.
Anderson persisted. “And when you were a man?”
“I didn’t go to school when I was a man,” Hodges said, and resumed his seat.
“I see. Mac Mota, you look very intent. Can you tell us of things that summer offers that no other season does – from your own experience?”
“Absolutely.” He concentrated for a moment. “Last summer I got sunburn, had a rash from chiggers and got a cramp in my leg while swimming.”
“Well, yes, those annoyances happen, but surely there is something about summer you appreciate?”
Mota’s brow knit for a moment, then a light illuminated his eyes. “Watermelon! Boy, I could eat watermelon all day long and still not have enough. Last Fourth of July, I ate…” His features suddenly sobered. “Last Fourth of July, I ate so much watermelon that I had the grandfather of all stomach aches.”
After a long pause, Anderson said, “What other thoughts come to you about summer – anyone?”
Paul Wattis stood. “It separates spring and fall.”
“Yes, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“You shouldn’t eat oysters in the summer,” Tom Ament said.
“Oh, I wish Sid Moses was here,” Anderson said. “He could put this on the right track, but doesn’t it have something to do with crops?”
“Precisely!” Anderson said. “Most of our crops grow during the summer, and not only ours, but Gilroy’s and the rest of the world’s. Thus, Mother Nature blesses us anew with her bounty and…”
“And the Garlic Festival,” Richard Place said. “When you learn all the ways that garlic can be ingested, you’re left breathless – or at least you wish everyone else was,” and with that he laughed fit to split his sides.
“Very interesting,” Anderson said. “In welcoming the season, I’d like to read this poem by Geoffrey Chaucer.” He donned his spectacles: “‘Sumer is icumen in, Lhude singe cuccu. Bloweth…'”
“Summer’s doing what?” Bob Cruz asked.
“Icumen in – it’s Chaucer’s way of saying that summer is coming in.”
“If you say so,” Robert Scattini said. “I’m not up on these modern poets.”
Anderson sighed and folded the sheet of paper. “That concludes our program. Tom?”
Tom Breen rose. “I’m sure we’re all grateful for the chairman’s program…” – an impish smile broke forth – “…and the way he summarized it.” A cheer went up.
“Is there any other business before we adjourn tonight?” Anderson asked.
Another cheer split the night.
Refreshments were served.
