Happy 250th Birthday America!

July 4, 1976

With the 250^th anniversary of our country, I have grown a bit nostalgic remembering when the country turned 200.

I was six years old.

And I lived in the best neighborhood in the whole wide world.

Surrey Place.

We had a neighborhood full of children. Hundreds of them. Or at least it seemed the summer before I entered the first grade. Mrs. Lamb would be my teacher.

But I digress.

All the mothers of the neighborhood were in a Garden Club. They met monthly at each other’s houses. They were the ones who made the magic happen.

And that is who planned the neighborhood Fourth of July party.

There were fireworks, cook-outs, games, and lots of fun desserts and drinks.

But the main attraction for my friends and I was the race around the block. It didn’t matter what you were riding at the time, tricycle, 10- speed, or a regular bike. I think one year someone drug a wagon around the neighborhood. It didn’t matter. If it had wheels, it was acceptable.

We spent hours decorating our bikes with red, white, and blue crepe paper, pulling the thin streamers through the spikes of our tires. Over and over again until we had it just like we wanted it.

I liked mine to be solid. No space showing. And I used all three colors.

Red.

White.

And Blue.

We made signs and taped them to the handlebars. And my favorite, tassels for the bicycle grips.

Mine were red.

For some reason I remember that, but not the color of my bike.

The race was around the subdivision. We started at the top of the cul-de-sac on Ascot Court. Turned right on Harrow Drive. Went all the way to Eaton Place, where we turned right and raced down the back stretch, peddling like crazy to gain as much speed as possible because we had to make a right on Trafalgar Way.

And it was straight up hill.

We needed momentum.

I got a third of the way up the hill before my bike slowed and I had to start pumping.

I tried really hard. Peddling with all my might. Standing up to put more weight on the peddles. Pushing with all the strength in my legs.

All to no avail. I got further than I ever had but I didn’t make it.

I had to get off my bike and walk the rest of the way.

I watched as rider after rider bypassed me.

But once I got to the top I jumped on my bike and peddled as fast as I could down Harrow and back up Ascot Court to the finish line.

I came in last.

But it didn’t matter because there were cupcakes and lemonade

waiting for us at Brown Beauty. The vacant lot located between the houses on the street. It had a creek and lots of red dirt hills. We played there all summer long.

And it’s also where the neighborhood hosted all their parties.

Awards were handed out to all the winners.

I watched in jealousy as gifts were given for first, second, and third place.

There was no gift for last place. This was the 70’s, showing up did not earn you a prize.

But then, to my surprise, there was an award for best decorations which was given for both the older kids and younger kids.

“Leah Stonebraker,” Mrs. Ward called out, walking over to me and handing me a brown paper bag from Food Giant.

I had icing on my lips and the biggest grin on my face as I accepted my award.

It was a set that included bubbles, wands, and blow horns.

I was thrilled.

I’m not sure what is in store for this celebration, but I’m guessing it won’t beat the bubbles I received in 1976.