Picnics
by Dena Hensler
There are vast differences in the types of outings
people refer to as “picnics”. From the simple fare to the
more dramatic theme-based variety, we are limited only by
our imagination.
My memory of picnics dates back to the 60’s when
my parents gathered up my three sisters and myself into the
family station wagon and drove to the “Feeder Farm” site
in Mapleton. The news of a picnic on a summer Saturday
or Sunday afternoon generated a fair amount of excitement
for us. An opportunity to see cousins, aunts, uncles,
grandparents and indulge in lots of good food.
The Feeder Farm was a favorite spot for many
family gatherings. Located in a partially-cleared field, there
was a large wooden table that would accommodate several
families at one time and this table was covered with a roof
offering protection from any inclement weather.
It is interesting to note that while no one in the
family was designated to actually plan the event, everything
jelled in a way that would cause wonder in the minds of
some today. There was no cell phone communication or
text messaging back and forth to one another to insure all
details were taken care of – it just happened.
I recall the span of ages from babies to elders and the
generations in between. Being a pre-teen (tween by today’s
lingo), I believed myself to be the sophisticated female of
the group especially with my horn-rimmed sunglasses and
satiny kerchief tied beneath my chin.
Gas grills were not readily available, if at all, during this era
however there were cooking devices provided on site. These
were three-sided units, looking like ovens, the raised grates
made from metal that looked like lag bolts so the charcoal
briquettes or hardwood could be placed underneath. While
the grilling mediums heated, other activities were taking
place.
A large merry-go-round was nestled in one corner
of the site and with as many aunts, uncles and cousins as
it would hold, we would all jump on and run along the
circular track inside the round bench picking up speed as
we ran then quickly hop on and enjoy the dizzying ride
until the disc lost momentum.
Nearby in a more wooded area there were swings,
the seats of which were either made from wooden planks
or the heavy plastic material which was in a U-shape. These
were suspended by heavy rope and the higher we soared, the
broader the grins on our faces.
When the adults signaled us that lunch was ready,
there was no hesitation to abandon whatever activity was
in progress. While all the adults in attendance were hard
working, certainly not wealthy, food was abundant and
delicious. The meal consisted of steaks, hamburgers and red
hot dogs with accompaniments that were colossal. Giant
bowls of potato salad headed the line followed by moist,
colorful macaroni salad and a Jell-o salad could always be
found. Continuing down the line would be baked beans
possibly cooked and served in Grampy’s authentic ceramic
brown bean pot. Grammy or one of the aunts was sure to
have provided home-made Parker house rolls with “real”
butter. Corn-on-the-cob was our vegetable of choice
(having been husked by the youngsters). Usually there
would be lemonade for the children and hot tea or coffee
for the adults. Grampy made the coffee simply by boiling
water in a kettle or a cleaned-out lard pail, adding some
coffee grounds and then some egg shells which apparently
allowed the grounds to settle to the bottom of the container.
Once the main course was devoured, we were offered
dessert. Watermelon was a treat to us in that time and being
outdoors where we could spit the seeds was something akin
to a sporting competition. When I accidentally swallowed a
seed, one of my cousins told me, quite convincingly, that a
watermelon was going to take root and grow in my stomach!
The grand finale to this smorgasbord of caloric indulgence
was strawberry shortcake. Wild berries, laboriously picked
from the fields behind Grammy and Grampy’s house, were
mixed with sugar and formed a deliciously sweet, natural
syrup. Home-made, flaky sweet biscuits were the base for
the berries. The biscuits were separated in half, the bottom
receiving a generous spoonful of berries, then the top of
the biscuit replaced with more berries and a dollop of real,
sweet whipped ream. Those memories are as fresh in my
mind today as they were over forty years ago.
Fortunately, this basic picnic tradition settled in
the deepest part of me and while the basic premise of the
gathering remains the same, we have become somewhat
more modernized – in some ways – to our present day
approach.
A telephone call to my sister will start things moving
SUMMER 2011
47