Upon reflection, one of our most cherished childhood memories would be sitting in the rear of my grandfather's big Buick while riding to the country with he and my grandmother after church on a summer Sunday. As we drove, listening to the gentleness of their conversation, she called him Pappy, he addressed her properly with her given name, Maude. How freely and tenderly they shared their expressions, from time to time one or the other would turn and ask, "you alright youngun?" So quickly would I respond, "yes Mam, yes Sir!" Then turning back, looking through the window at all the horses, cows and planted rows of fields we would pass heading to my grandfathers' friend Mr Barfield. He had a piece of land Mr Barfield did, that grew some of the tallest corn, juciest butterbeans, sweetest tomatoes, and heartiest okra. WE would pick that corn, butterbeans, tomatoes, okra, sometimes even pull beets and yams. Hot sun there would be while we were in those fields until we got those baskets full, Grandad managed to time it so that as the sun would set behind Mr Barfields' house, we would be sitting on the rear porch shucking the corn, leafing the beans and so on. As I think back to that time I am reminded that the work you do in the fields in the heat of day, will afford you many a full basket to store while on a shaded porch enjoying the setting sun.

Respectfully

thdrknight

I have many fond memories, but one that comes to mind is of my dad, who passed away in 2005.

We went fly fishing on the East Fork of the South Fork of the Salmon River one summer. We gathered up our gear and headed down the trail head towards the river. On the way down, dad noticed that the Blueberry's were as thick as flies.

We had never seen them so large before and in fact, some where as big as a small grape. We gorged ourselves silly on the way down the river. Once down to the bank, we sat down, put our rods together and started to tie on our flies.

Dad suddenly looked up at me and started laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Look at your hands and your face...their all blue!!

Of course I couldn't see my face, but one look at my hands told the whole story. My fingers, my hands and even my wrists, were the pale blue color of blueberries. Then I started to laugh....

"Hey pop, I'm not the only guy who turned blue!"

Dad beat me to the punch as usual and took off upstream, and I followed along. The whole day was filled with catching and releasing Cutthroat trout as fast as we could them. We ate Blueberry's all the way back to the truck also.

Arriving home, we proudly emptied our creels into the sink, then stood back admiring our catch. We thought mother would be pleased, but she looked angry. After a moment, she said:

"By the looks of you two, I suppose you didn't' think about bringing your dear old mother any Blueberry's!"

We both hung our heads and sheepishly disappeared into the bathroom, to rinse off the evidence...but it was too late!

To make things worse, both dad and I, had the Blueberry runs for a week!

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SgtMac66

Macs RevWar

That's great memory. How many years you get married? Perhaps you may share your love story here

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When my parents gave me a birthday party for the first time.