Ferris Wheels

I went to Catholic Schools. Not here to debate it, but to let you know about my life. In grade school, at the end of the school year, the first Saturday in June was the school picnic-also known as The Picnic. You never had to explain what you meant when you said "When are you going to the picnic" or Do you want to go to the picnic with me?" Everyone knew-even people who did not attend the church or school. The last few weeks of school, there was a poster contest with a monetary prize. It may have been free ride tickets, I can't remember. Each kid would produce a poster in marker, or colored pencil to advertise the picnic. These were hung in local businesses to spread to word. I can remember going to the grocery store or gas station and being so proud to see my poster hanging there. The parade started at 10 am and we walked through the neighborhood with our class. When the parade got back to the church-the stampede began. There were hundreds of kids all 14 and under running as fast as they could for rides and to use their free ticket for a coke. There were booths in the back where you could win prizes. We always came home with a goldfish or two that most likely wouldn't survive the week and a bunch of tomato plants that would survive our hot muggy summer. We spent the day with our friends racing from ride to ride, looking at the boys when we were older and giggling. At the end of the day, we were hot, dirty, sunburned and our new picnic outfit crumpled. As the picnic closed,we always rode the Ferris Wheel as a family. The rides all had the lights lit up and you were as high up as you could be. It wasn't as crowded as it had been earlier and it was nearly over. We were together and happy. I have no idea how Mom afforded the picnic, but we always went, always rode the rides, we stayed all day and night. On this first Saturday in June, I wish I was on the Ferris Wheel and it was that simple. I'm not, but I am so very glad that I took the ride.