Endless Summer - Entry 13 in the story of my sister and me

Pat getting a bath in the kitchen sink.

“I think that a guy’s finger is just too big to fit on the little white knob on the aerosol can. Maybe a pump with a trigger. You know, like a gun. Or a spray bottle in the shape of a semi-automatic weapon. More appealing to their sense of machoism. Talk about germ warfare.”  

Pat Loehmer, trying to discover a way to get her husband to fumigate the bathroom, obviously written years ago before they came up with trigger-action Febreze.  

The above quote was the best one I could find to go along with the Fourth of July. Guess I was thinking about men shooting off fireworks.

It’s easy to think of a story of my sister Pat and me that ties into this holiday.

Most years, we would go into the parade in town. We always parked in the parking lot of Hanke’s grocery store (that building was most recently home to Family Dollar which just went out of business). Sometimes I think Mom came along too, but it was mostly Dad. One year, our older sister Judy was on the float for Bradley Bank.

Judy on the Bradley Bank float that year.

Pat and I with Judy after the parade, feeling like she was a celebrity. Sorry for the color on these two, they were pulled from an old home movie.

But what I really remember about the Fourth of July is that after we came home from the parade, Pat and I would do an Indian rain dance. I don’t know why and I’m sorry if anyone thinks I’m disrespecting our Native Americans. But every year, we would get out our Indian headdresses and whoop and dance around in a circle, chanting and patting our hands to our mouths while making noises. You can picture that can’t you? I’m sure my generation can, while you younger kids are just staring at your screen wondering what I’m talking about.

The good thing is that we never conjured up any rain. Then we had a picnic lunch and as it was getting dark, Dad would take us back to town for the fireworks. Those were good times.

Wish I had more pictures of those days. These are the best I could find. 

Pat's second birthday, July 1961

Pat's birthday in 1965

Her birthday in 1967

Just the two of us on Dad's truck in the summer of 1968

This was the fall of 1969 - holy cow, 50 years ago! How old am I?
So that's me in the striped jacket with my hair stuck in the gate of the pontoon boat. Pat seems to be just laughing at me, while our friend Nancy looks like she's trying to help. That's a distant cousin on the right, looking totally innocent. I guess that's why Pat got to have long hair and Mom always cut my short.