labor day family reunion picnic

labor day family reunion picnic

fiction
edward w pritchard

Out at Uncle Watson's farm the boys were playing baseball labor day at the family reunion picnic.
Forty matching casual chairs faced home plate in a large semicircle this year for uncle Watson had done well in the stock market of late and the tables back of cousin Mike the catcher were loaded with store bought fancy eats as well as every woman's here special concoction potato salad in a crystal bowl.

As the ball game was winding down a bit Etta Watson's neighbor 40 year old Mrs McDonald strolled over in a pair of yellow shorts bringing her neighbors her coveted chocolate  fudge Brownies. Grandpa Howard who I was respectfully sitting with slowly stood up and sided over to Home plate grabbed the bat from cousin Mickey as the teenage boys smiled and glancing at Mrs.McDonald asked his great nephew Arron to lob him a curve ball.

With a crack Grandpa whacked the mushy soft ball clear past and over the barn he used to play in as a boy way way out in right center field.

"Run grandpa run I yelled".

Grandpa smiled at me and returned slowly to his seat and as he walked he said sort of to everyone " First is earned and second base is worked for as third base is given but home plate is never forgotten.

A little later I remember Grandpa sitting drinking a beer and my Mother grandpa's oldest  daughter being a little bit mad at her Father.