The Great Pumpkin Hunt

This weekend we did two of my favorite things: get apples and pumpkins. These activities are quintessential fall for me. I grew up in NY, which I was surprised to learn in grade school was NOT part of New England. It always seemed like New England to me- the beautiful colors in the fall, cold, snowy winters. But New York is actually part of the 'Mid-Atlantic' states. From my hometown of Berlin, you can be in Vermont or Massachusetts in 15 minutes. (Or, for the real adventurous, you can climb the mountain on the eastern side of the town and be in Massachusetts). So I still consider that I grew up in New England.

Fall is a wonderful time in New England. The thick lush forests change from many shades of green to orange, yellow, red, and purple. To me, there is nothing lovelier than seeing the green valley gradually give way to the explosion of color on the hills and mountains. Inspiration surrounds you. It is a time of preparation. You grab your fall coat, knowing soon you will need the winter one. While you are doing this, you check to see if last year's boots still fit, and make sure you can locate at least one complete pair of gloves. The lawn mower gets put away, and the snow blower gets moved to the front of the shed. You dread the six months of winter that are coming, but the glory of the fall makes the rest of it worthwhile.

Every September, we would go to Southern Vermont Orchards and buy apples. I remember being a small child and going into the orchard with mom to pick apples. Somewhere along the way, liability laws changed and many orchards stopped allowing the public to pick apples. So going to get apples consisted of going to the big red barn, and walking through the aisles of baskets filled with apples. We always picked apples for pies and applesauce, and apples for eating. As soon as you walked into the barn, you were met with the aroma of warm cider donuts. The donuts were as important as the apples themselves. And of course, we had to get a jug of cider. Then we went home and started peeling and cutting apples, preparing them for pies and applesauce. Mom taught us how to freeze the unbaked pies, and then we would have fresh apple pie all winter long.

Getting pumpkins was more of an adventure. Over the years, there were a couple different farms we went to for pumpkins. All of the places had pumpkins they had already picked and put near the farm stand. But these places also offered you the chance to go into the pumpkin patch. For a flat rate, say $5, you could go into the pumpkin patch, wander around the dead vines, and choose your perfect pumpkin. Or pumpkins, because it was 'what you could carry'. My sister would pick up a couple of decent sized pumpkins, preferring to carry multiple pumpkins for her $5. I took the opposite approach. I wanted the biggest, most perfect pumpkin I could find.

My requirements for the perfect pumpkin have not changed, even though I am now in my mid-thirties. I want a pumpkin that is orange, not yellowy-orange, and certainly no green. I want a round pumpkin, not oblong. I want a fat pumpkin, not a tall one. I prefer it not to have any flat spots or bad sides (which is hard to come by). And I want it to be BIG! If I have trouble carrying it, then it is the right size.

I would scour the pumpkin patch, looking for the best one. I would walk the entire field, putting those that were possibilities aside so I could compare them. My sister was in and out of the pumpkin patch and off to the snack bar long before I ever finished. Mom would pull the station wagon to the edge of the patch, and sit and wait for me. It became a bit of a family joke. But I take my pumpkin hunt very seriously! When I finally found the perfect pumpkin, I would carry it out to the car. Carrying it usually meant I walked a few feet, then put it down and rested. Once I got to the edge of the patch, Mom would come over and help me and put it in the car. When we got home, Dad would get it out. I always liked it when they weighed my pumpkin, so I could see how well I had done. I don't remember what my largest one ever was though. Maybe 30 or 40 lbs.

When I was in college, I missed the pumpkin ritual. After I moved to Ohio, I found a farm that offers rides to the pumpkin patch, and then you can wander around and choose the pumpkin you want. Erich would go with me, and he would graciously carry my pumpkins for me. We were usually the only ones not doing this for a child. After I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, we stopped going to that farm. Partly because it was over an hour away, which was a long way to drive for a pumpkin, and partly because bouncing around in hay wagons does not feel very good when you have Fibro. So we've been going to nearby farm stands, and just choosing from the pumpkins they have set out. But some things do not change. I still go up and down the rows carefully searching for the perfect pumpkin. I feel like a kid, and sometimes I think I have more fun than the kids do. When I find THE one, I am filled with joy. It is a fun time, something I look forward to. As I stumble to the car with my giant pumpkin, I am happy. I smile as I hold the pumpkin. The pumpkin sits on our front step, and every time I pull in the driveway, I can see it. I am transported back to the happy falls of my childhood.

This year's pumpkin is beautiful-perfectly round and orange and not a bad side. The cashier at the farm stand was even impressed. It's small compared to some pumpkins I've had, nearly 24 pounds. Yet I didn't see any bigger all weekend. I am happy. Sometimes, it's the simple pleasures that make life so wonderful.

Hot Toy

It is over. The years of being able to buy Sydney anything for Christmas have ended. We had four Christmases of being able to buy her clothes, books, and toys-but not necessarily 'the hottest toy of the season'. Until now, she has been too young to get into all the hype. So shopping for her was pretty easy. You could pick out toys without fighting twenty other women for the same toy. We could have our Christmas shopping for her done before the powers that be released the 'Must Have Toys' for that year, creating that frenzy that has you enlisting distant relatives and relatives who live a distance away to help you.

You may know, I am not a fan of this list, or the people who create it. I think they have too much power. I do not know how they create this list, but it seems they take obscure items that otherwise wouldn't sell and make them 'hits'. Electronic hamsters? Seriously? I also feel that imagination is taking a back seat to electronics. I have seen so many children who can't imagine anything if it wasn't on a video screen. That is heartbreaking. Just once I would like to see these powers that be put 'a large empty box' on the 'must have toys' list and see what happens. It could be a race car for Jimmy, a boat for Susie, a lion cage for Jill, a gourmet kitchen for Billy.

This 'must have' list also pressures parents. Not everyone can afford to buy what is on that list. Especially not in this economy. I grew up in a rural area, that even in good times is a very poor area. When I was a teenager, we were at Mass on Christmas Eve and near the end of Mass, the Priest announced that he just saw a sleigh fly over. This got all the small children excited. Then he said that little children who went to Mass on Christmas Eve got EVERYTHING they asked for from Santa! The children were ecstatic. I looked around the parish as the faces of their parents fell, and they became visibly upset. Some of the families were struggling to put food on their tables, and now their children were certain 'Santa' was bringing them everything they asked for. I cried right there in church. I still cry thinking about it. (Have I ever told you that thinking of children having nothing at Christmas breaks my heart?)

And I know Christmas is not about the gifts. Christmas is Christ's birthday. My parents were always so great about making sure we knew what it really was about. We always did a secret santa, and helped other families. Sydney already knows too. Last year she was so excited about going to church to see Baby Jesus. I thought that was terrific.

But she is a child. And she likes presents. Last year she was too little for the Zhu Zhu Pet craze. I was very thankful. Her parents got her one for her birthday this year, and when she told me she got a Zhu Zhu pet, I knew that our time had run out. She was so excited. My sister took a picture of her opening it, and her face was all lit up.

So when our local news last night tipped us off to what will be this year's hottest toy, I did what any good aunt would do. Typed 'Sing-a-ma-jigs' into my web browser and waited. They are little creatures-not really bears, but just weird little things that sing. Darn! Sydney LOVES music and singing things. I am going to have to cave to the pressure of the 'Hot Toy List'. BUT! Each little creature is only $12.99. Ok. That's good. There are six. Each one sings a different song. And if you have more than one together, they harmonize with each other. Of course they do. Because a toy is no good if it's by itself (says the woman with 400 plus Boyds Bears). So I read a little bit about them, and every child who has seen them has fallen in love with them. This morning, I emailed my mom & sister to give them a heads up. A couple hours later, Mom emailed back that she has ordered the pink, blue, and red but Toys R Us was out of orange, purple, and yellow. And so the hunt is on!

According to Target.com, my local Target has Yellow. I can order Purple and Orange from Amazon.com if I want to pay $22.00 each. I love you, Syd, but I am not paying almost double for these little singing critters. My sister said 'She doesn't need ALL the colors'. And she may not get all the colors. Although, Aunt Amy will scour Ohio looking for them. I will even go into Walmart looking for them. Why? Remember Cabbage Patch Kids? My Grandmother & Aunt in Florida were looking for them while Mom was looking in NY. It's what we do.

I will miss the joy of finishing Sydney's Christmas shopping early, of not having to fight the crowds. But that will be replaced by the joy in Syd's voice, and on her face when she gets the toy. Someday we'll tell her how hard we searched for it, and we will all laugh. She will know and understand we did it out of love. And in a few decades, she will do the same for children in her life. Unless we don't have brick and mortar stores by then.

While I'm running around Southwest Ohio looking for Sing-a-ma-jigs, asking clerks quietly so as not to create a run in the toy department, I will also rejoice knowing that I have Drew. Sweet little Drew. Drew who is too young to want anything popular. I can buy him clothes and books, and other toys. I still have a couple of years before he is corrupted. I know we will have less time with him than we did with Sydney, because Sydney will be influencing him before too long. I think I need to increase the lobby to add that box to the list!

My Name is Peggy

I've previously told you that I am one of the rare individuals who actually watches commercials. I have noticed a sad trend in commercials lately. Companies are telling us that their customer service department is in the USA. They actually have to announce this fact. 'USA Based call center'. There was a time, not so many years ago, that we didn't have to announce this. You may have gotten someone who asked 'How ya'll doing?' or who answered with 'Aloha' rather than 'Hello'. But you knew the person on the other end of the phone was sitting in an office that was built on American soil.

Now, it is a selling point for companies to draw customers. The most recent company I saw doing this was GoDaddy.com . I guess Danica Patrick wasn't bringing in enough customers any more. I have mixed emotions when I see or hear a company touting its base in the US. I am pleased they have not taken the cheaper route and outsourced jobs. But I am sad that there is the need to tell the public they are a US based company.

Outsourcing has become such a part of our culture that it has gone from being a bad word to being a source of humor. Everyone has a funny story of talking to someone from far away who doesn't quite understand your problem. There is a new sitcom this fall about this, and in fact I think it's called 'Outsourced'. And one of my favorite new commercials is the Discover card commercial where the guy (who appears to be in Siberia or some similar location) answers and says 'This is Peggy'. We all understand that-which is why we laugh.

I don't want to sound like one of those Angry Americans. Outsourcing affects other countries. Here in Southwest Ohio, there was a news story the other day about a German company that was moving to our area. The newscaster actually said 'this prevented the jobs from being outsourced to Mexico'. Erich and I said at the same time, "But they've been outsourced from Germany to the US". Somewhere in Germany, people have lost their jobs, and are wondering what will happen to their families. Perhaps there are other German companies creating commercials emphasizing their roots in Deutschland.

We Will Never Forget

When we were kids, we asked my parents if they remembered where they were the day President Kennedy was shot. My parents were about 10 when it happened, but I didn't understand the sad look that came over them. I didn't understand the sadness in their voices as they said "I'll never forget it" and then proceeded to tell us quietly how they remembered the events unfolding.

In a few years, when Sydney and Drew are in school and start learning about the 9/11 attacks on America, they too will ask 'Do you remember'. And we will answer with the same sadness that my parents did. We may even cry. For here we are 9 years removed from that tragic day, and it still brings me to tears.

It was a joyous time for our family. My sister was getting married that Saturday-September 15. We were in 'wedding mode'. Making sure the reception hall had the final count, coordinating when the flowers would be delivered, making appointments at the salon. I was trying to get through my last day of work before vacation-I had tickets to fly out on September 12 to NY. I had a list of things I had to pack that night, last minute things to get done. I was working the morning shift at JCP- I was the manager of the jewelry department. The jewelry department always went in an hour earlier than everyone else. The jewelry gets put into safes at night, so in the morning you have to go in and put it out before the store opens. We went up to the break room for our morning meeting, and the television was on. Everyone was just watching in silence. I asked what had happened, and someone said 'a plane has hit the Pentagon'. But the image on TV was of buildings smoking in NYC. I commented 'but that's NYC'.

We didn't have a meeting that morning. We watched the television in silence. I got sick. I think several of us did. We solemnly opened the store, but we could have gone without opening, as there were no shoppers. This huge mall was empty-not even the mall walkers were out. I called my Mom. My Mom works for the county, so she was hearing a lot of things through the State government. I have always been terrified of flying, and I told her there was no way I was getting on a plane the next morning. She told me I couldn't, even if I wanted to, as all planes had been grounded. I called my sister. My sister was a mess. Not only was she seeing this horrible thing play out on TV with the rest of us, but she had the bride-to-be nerves on top of it. She was worried I would not make it home. I was her Maid of Honor. I assured her that I would get there. I was on the phone with either Mom or Laura for most of the morning. Everyone in the store was moving in a zombie like state. Then we received notice that the mall was closing. I think it closed at noon. The mall sat next to Wright Patterson Air Force base. There were concerns that the Base was a target, so they evacuated the area. As I drove home on this otherwise beautiful fall day, fighter jets were scrambling overhead.

I stopped at the bank and took as much cash out of my account as I could. There were fears that our economic system would collapse, and you would not be able to use credit cards. Erich had taken money out of his bank, and he gave me some to make sure I had a cushion. His parents also offered to give me some money. I checked the oil and tires on my car, and prepared to make a road trip. I told my Dad I would need an oil change when I got to NY-because by then I'd be at the 3000 mile mark. He said he would take care of it.

The next day, my boyfriend at the time and I took off for NY. Not sure what we would encounter on the way, he had gone to his grandmother's house and gotten his grandfather's rifle. He put it in the trunk of my car. Life had a very apocalyptic feel to it. You just didn't know what tomorrow would bring. In truth, we never do know what tomorrow will bring, but most of us live as if we have a thousand tomorrows. On September 12, I think everyone was living like it was our last days. It really felt like the world was ending.

We made the decision to drive straight through to Mom & Dads. It is about a 13 or 14 hour drive, but we didn't know what we would find if we stopped for the night. All I could think was that I wanted my family. As we drove through Cleveland and Buffalo, we were picking up Canadian radio stations. The Canadians were talking about how America brought this on themselves, with our pompous attitudes. I don't remember the exact conversation or wording, but I remember the DJs and the callers were all saying the same thing- the Americans did it to themselves.

As soon as we hit NY State, the electronic message signs on the Thruway said 'New York City is CLOSED' 'NO ACCESS TO NEW YORK CITY VIA THRUWAY'. I have never in my life known New York City to be closed. After all, New York is the city that never sleeps. There have been few times in my life I've wanted to go there, but this was the only time I'd ever been told I couldn't go there. Every electronic message sign on the New York State Thruway from Buffalo to Albany carried the same message. If you look at a map of NY/PA/OH; you see that I-90 curves a little north in extreme western NY. In Buffalo, the interstate makes a big bend, and then you head due east to Albany. The 'big bend' has become a bit of a landmark to us. You've already been in NY for about an hour, and once you've made that turn East, you've got 6 hours til you're home. Yes, it takes 7 hours to get from the NY State line to my mom's house. On this trip, once we made the big bend, we started seeing National Guard vehicles. The National Guard had been mobilized to help in NY City, and it was a continuous snake of camouflage vehicles from Buffalo to Albany. To call it a convoy would be an understatement. As far as you could see, you were surrounded by camouflage. My little green Focus was one of the few non-camo vehicles on the road. We would stop at rest areas, and the parking lot was full of the National Guard. When we went past a town that had a National Guard Armory, you would see a stream of vehicles getting onto the interstate. Even now, I can see that camouflaged ribbon stretching across the state. And the thought of that trip still turns my stomach and gives me chills.

When we got to my parents' house, my mother grabbed me in a huge hug. She wouldn't let go. Once we were settled, I started reading the newspaper articles, and watching the footage, and for the first time truly absorbed the enormity of the events. The fear subsided a bit, replaced by horror and anger. It was perhaps, the first time in my life that I knew what it meant to be a Proud American.

My sister's wedding went off without any further problems. Hearts were heavy. For our nation, and for our family as well. My cousin was home on leave from the Navy at the time, and on the afternoon of 9/11 he received a call that told him to get back to Norfolk ASAP. My Uncle took him down to Virginia, he didn't even have time to say good bye to others in the family. My Uncle said the ship left shortly after my cousin got on, and they were dropping other service members in by helicopter as they arrived. By the time of my sister's wedding, my cousin was in the Persian Gulf. My parents found a couple of small American Flags, and when they were introduced at the reception, they walked in waving the flags high. Mom & Dad walked over to my cousin's parents and gave them the flags. There wasn't a dry eye on our side of the family.

The next morning Laura & Andy left for their honeymoon. There were limited flights available, but they were able to get to Disney World. If I remember, it took them all day to get there. Mom, Dad, my boyfriend & I left for Maine. We had the trip planned for a while- it was supposed to be a chance to get away. After the events of the previous five days, it was a release for us. We just escaped, and it was very peaceful. One of the days, we were in Kennebunkport. We were walking on the street, and a large crowd was gathering. We asked what was going on, and were told Former President Bush was expected at any moment. We joined the crowd, and before long a boat came up to the dock. And there was Former President Bush and Barbara. They were joined by another couple, and of course, secret service agents. They walked up the dock and right past us- I have great pictures of him walking in front of me. Someone in the crowd said to him 'God Bless Your Son'. He looked up and said 'No, God Bless us all'.

I think that is still the most appropriate sentiment. God Bless us all. We will never forget.

Phone Lessons

I spend a lot of time on the phone at work. I call financial advisors all over the US. One thing that really irritates me is the poor manners exhibited by people on the phone. Both advisors and their office people. It leaves me wanting to open Amy's Phone Etiquette School.

I have been cursed with a very young sounding voice. Someone said I always sound young and sexy. I don't know about the sexy part, but I do sound like a teenager. I actually hate my voice. The only thing worse than hearing my voice is hearing a recording of my voice. I recorded our answering machine message (because Erich just wouldn't do it), and I cringe every time I hear it. While the rest of my body matured, and in some cases (such as my hair) has matured beyond my age; my voice has been stuck in 1993.

Because my jobs have always involved talking, I have tried to make up for sounding young. I try to speak slowly and clearly. I also try to speak as professionally and intelligently as possible. My goal is to make the person on the other end believe I know what I'm doing, and that I'm not some temp worker right out of high school.

I have some tips for people who must talk on the phone in a professional setting. Since I can't very well pass them out to people when they exhibit poor phone manners (as that would just be RUDE), I shall share them here, if for nothing else than my own amusement.

1. When you are in an office, do not answer the phone by saying 'HELL o?' . You should use the business name, so that the caller knows they have dialed the correct number. Do not answer it as you would your home phone, or cell phone. 'Yeah?' 'What?' and 'Huh?' are equally inappropriate.

2. If your boss has voice mail, but you do not know how to transfer a call to that voice mailbox, please simply offer to take a message. Telling me you don't know how to use it does not increase my confidence in your ability to hand write a message and deliver it.

3. If you did not understand my name, or the company I am calling from, politely ask me to repeat it. Do not say 'huh?' or 'what?' in a snappy tone.

4. Do NOT answer the phone with food in your mouth.

5. Do NOT snap your gum on the phone. There are ways to discreetly chew gum so that the caller does not know you are chewing it. Trust me. I do it all day long.

6. Do not put me on hold, and then forget about me.

7. When you are on the phone, and have to put me on hold, ASK me to hold. Don't sigh in exasperation and say 'hang on'.

8. If you are in a meeting and your phone rings, don't answer it. It is extremely rude for you to wait until after I've identified myself and the reason for my call and then tell me 'I'm in a meeting, call back'. Put your phone on vibrate or if it's a land line-let it go to voicemail. You are disrespecting me and the people you are meeting with by giving neither of us your full attention.

9. Do not call me, and then ask me to hold on so you can answer your cell phone. I will give you just a few seconds to tell the person on the cell phone that you are on another line. If you do not come back to our call in a timely manner, I will hang up on you.

10. If you do have to answer another call while we are on the phone, kindly put our call on hold, or set the phone down and walk to another area. I do not want to hear your private conversation with someone else.

11. When calling on behalf of your boss, identify yourself. This holds true whether you are speaking to me in person, or leaving a voicemail. "Hi, this is Jen, I'm calling for Mike Smith". Don't say 'uh, I'm calling for Mike Smith'... When I call back, I will let whomever answers the phone know that I am returning a call, but I don't know who to ask for because she didn't leave a name.

12. If you are leaving a voicemail for me, leave your first and last name. We have 3000 members in the US. If you tell me John, I have no idea who you are.

13. My voicemail greeting says 'please speak slowly and clearly and spell your last name if necessary'. If your last name is Popaduperkowalskiopolis, then you should be spelling your last name. If your last name is Jones, save the sarcasm (which is evident in your voice) and don't spell it. Trust me, as someone who has a last name that I have had to spell my entire life; you know if you should be spelling it.

14. Speak slowly and clearly when leaving messages. Do not rattle off your phone number in two seconds.

15. You actually need to leave a phone number. Don't make me look it up, because the number I have could be wrong. As I talk to people all over the US, you need to leave your area code with the phone number.

16. It is not necessary to leave multiple messages for me in the course of an hour. I WILL call you back. We are not doing anything that is a life or death matter. You are not the only person I have to help today.

17. Check the attitude before you dial or answer. Being a bitch or jerk to me does NOT get you anywhere.

18. Identify yourself when calling. I know I covered this for assistants, but it works for everyone. You should tell me who you are BEFORE you tell me the reason for your call. This enables me to pull up your account while talking to you.

19. Don't assume I remember you because we talked two weeks ago. I have an extraordinary memory, but I also talk to many people in a day.

20. Take me off speaker phone. There is no reason to be on speaker phone if it is just the two of us talking. If you have someone else in your office joining us on the call, please identify them to me at the beginning of the call. I do not like to be 'tag-teamed'.

Thank you for calling. Have a nice day!

A Bad Aunt

Sometimes I review my blog-look back over the 'archives'. I just finished looking over my August archive, and realized I have been a Bad Aunt! I neglected to blog about my nephew.

Nephew. The word gets stuck on my tongue. My mouth feels funny forming the sounds. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea that I am now an Aunt to two children: a girl and a boy. Boy. It's just so odd to have a boy in our family. I mean, sure, there's my dad, and my bil. Before that was my Grandpa. But we've always had girls. Grandpa used to tease us that when we went to visit their house, the numbers were getting a little more fair. It was five women to two men. Grandpa and Dad used to grumble about being outnumbered. It was a special club they belonged to. And even though they grumbled that there was always someone around to tell them what to do, and they didn't stand a chance in the bathroom, deep down I think they loved it.

And now, with the birth of Drew, part of our family has balance. My sister's house has two females and two males; or three of each if you count the dogs. When my parents join them, the numbers remain even. I have to go home now to shake things up and restore the proper order! Haha!

But we are happy Drew has joined our family. He must be pretty excited too-he came three weeks early! On Sunday night, August 22, I talked to my mom. She said my sister had been feeling pretty great that day. Not five minutes after we hung up, Dad called back to say that Mom was headed to Laura's house to stay with Syd. At 7:35 am on August 23, Andrew Lewis Davey entered the world. He weighed in at 6lbs, 14 oz and was 19 1/4" long. He is Drew, though, because his father, also an Andrew, is Andy. Lewis was Grandpa Wager's first name, it was also his mother's maiden name. I am sure Grandpa is smiling down on Drew. They have a lot in common after all- not just the names. Grandpa was the last boy in mom's part of the family, and almost 95 years later, we have Drew.

So far I've only seen pictures of Drew. I will go to NY in October to visit everyone. By then he will be about 2 months old. I hope that he will love me as much as Sydney does, and want to hang out with me. I just hope he doesn't pee on me!

Labor Day

Today is Labor Day. It is the unofficial ending of summer. The meaning of Labor Day has changed for me as I've grown from child to adult, but it has always been a benchmark on the calendar. I love the coolness in the air, the crispness that surrounds you with fall. I know Spring is a time of awakening, but for me, fall is when everything feels fresh and new and wonderful.

When we were kids, Labor Day meant the beginning of school. Schools in NY start after Labor Day. Most start the Wednesday after, but some go back on Tuesday. So Labor Day meant school was starting. Which for me, was a wonderful thing. I loved being in school, loved learning. I loved stocking my new backpack with new school supplies. Covering my books with brown paper bags, so clean and fresh. As the school year wore on, the book covers were covered with doodles, and then slowly tore apart. Notebooks get bent, pens run out of ink. It's not fun shopping for notebooks in January or April; but I loved it in August. The new school year also meant we could start wearing the new clothes we'd picked out months ago, and then forgotten while they were on Layaway at Penney's all summer. We'd come home from school and change into our 'play clothes' (which were probably last year's school clothes). Soon you've worn all your new outfits, they lose their luster, and before you know it, you are running outside to jump in piles of leaves in these same clothes.

Labor Day was also a time to go to the county fair-another sign summer was winding down. Some years we would go to our fair and the Columbia County fair (which is the county south of Rensselaer county). The fairs were ok. Dad always enjoyed looking at the fire trucks, or the antique tractors. I liked to look at the crafts. We had friends in 4H, so we would look at the animals too. Last year I had really been missing it, so when I was home in September, I went to the fair. And realized I wasn't really missing much. It was hot, dusty, and fly infested. We were there on the day of tractor pulls, and the noise made it feel like your eardrums were going to bleed. We had Sydney, who wanted to see the animals and eagerly went into the barns. Until she saw how BIG the animals were compared to her, and then she jumped into my arms screaming. It was a long afternoon. I realized, I'm not really a fair person. But growing up, we went almost every year.

Labor Day also meant the dreaded family party. My Grandpa Primeau always had a huge family get together at his house. One year there were over 300 people attending! Anybody and everybody was invited. I dreaded it because there were so many people. I have never liked crowds, and I get very shy- even around family. It was a day long affair at Grandpa's. The Canadian relatives would come down for the weekend and camp in Grandpa's yard. There were always kegs of beer on tap, and soda for the kids. Grandpa had a hot dog steamer, and he would put Charlie Hot Dogs & buns in it, and we'd have those all afternoon long. That was one of my favorite parts. There were people playing horseshoes, and I think in later years we had a volleyball net, which I enjoyed. A group of people could always be found sitting in the basement around the poker table. They played poker, and probably Pinochle as it seems everyone in the family plays that. There was a pinata for the kids. The youngest kids got to hit first, but it usually didn't last long enough for the oldest kids to get a hit. I seem to remember games for kids, but doubt I participated much. As I said, I get extremely shy in crowds. I have 13 first cousins. The oldest six are close in age-there are a little over three years between my oldest cousin Terri, and the youngest of the first six, Dawn. I am two years younger than Dawn, next in line is Laura, my sister, who is 2 1/2 years younger than I am. Keith is a year younger than Laura, and he's really the oldest of the younger kids. The seven youngest kids are 7 years apart. So when I was a pre-teen, I was too young to hang with the older kids who were in high school. And I was too old to play with the little ones, who were still interested in playing things like Tag. We also lived about 20 minutes away from most of the family, and didn't see our cousins often. We weren't close (although as adults, several of us have become close, and I am so fortunate to count some of my cousins among my friends.) So I took books. We took board games too. I sat and talked to Grandma & Grandpa's friends. No doubt some people thought I was a snob. When I was in junior high, we started bringing friends. I remember the first time I took a friend with me, and was introducing her to my Grandma. I didn't know what she should call my Grandma, because she called my mom 'Mrs. Primeau'. Grandma said 'Just call me Grandma, everyone does!' It is one of my favorite memories of Grandma.

All day, a steamship round of beef would be cooking in the middle of the driveway. We ate at 5pm. So around 4 or so the women would get up and start getting things ready. Several tables would be set up in a long line under the deck. We would put plates and silverware on one end, then line up the food (everyone brought something). The men would slice the beef and put it in big aluminum pans. At 5pm, someone (probably Grandpa) would yell something to the effect of 'Let's Eat!' and then there was a mob of people lining up to get food. Which is funny, because all day long we'd all been snacking on Charlie Hot Dogs, sausage & peppers, and corn on the cob. After everyone had been through the line, and had their fill of food, the women would pick up and then bring out the desserts. The only time I've seen more desserts is at a church picnic. After we picked up from dessert, it would be almost dark. The pit where the steamship round cooked would become our camp fire. The guys would get the fire rolling and putting off quite a bit of heat, and then we roasted marshmallows. I enjoyed that part. It was just about the quietest part of the day.

At Hanover, classes started on Labor Day. So Labor Day signaled the start of school for me until I was 21. Dad hated it that we moved in on Labor Day weekend, and graduation was Memorial Day weekend- which meant we were on the road moving me in or out of dorms on two of the busiest weekends of the year.

In the past few years, Labor Day has come to mean a three day weekend-something that is rare in the 40 hour work week. I savor that extra day. It is delicious to sit here on Sunday night and realize that I get a bonus day the following day. It was luxurious to sleep until 10 am on a Monday morning. And it is refreshing that as I sit here, dreading the work week in front of me, I know it is only four days.

Four years ago, Labor Day took on a new meaning in our family. It means it is Sydney's birthday! Her birthday is September 5. She was born the day after Labor Day, and next year her birthday will be Labor Day. Of course, her birthday will fall on Labor Day many times. So even though I haven't stepped into a classroom in 13 Septembers, Labor Day remains a time of new beginnings.