Cruisin’ through Town

Since Henry Ford produced the opportunity for everyone to travel with the Model T Americans have associated freedom with driving. My honey comes fro a small town where the vehicle is a status symbol. In the early evening a common habit was cruising’ through town to be seen and to see who was out. They would stop in the parking lot at one end of town and gals might hop from car to car to gossip. The guys would say hello and talk about being the best defined by speed, horsepower and class.

Every graduating class of seniors gathered at that same parking lot on the last day of school and cruise to the high school at the other end of town. The community supports the rite of passage, a police escort leads the way, horns honk, flags fly. People line up along the way to cheer for them; a small-town send off into the world. Even my honey’s hometown has changed. We’ve cruised through town a couple of times, but only to run errands. Cruisin’ exists in memory. The price of gasoline makes people conserve. The latest fad is fitness and now we meet people on the exercise paths and trails. We still talk about speed and power, but it relates to marathon training and muscles.

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Concert in the Park

Parks were once a convivial place where people could meet, chat, buy trinkets and enjoy food. A festive occasion with music, kids running around dancing and the family pets sniffing around for abandoned morsels. Concerts in the park revive community spirit to rival the medieval square is sponsored by the cultural districts and other sponsors with. Some are more organized than others with more festivities and some focus on just just the concert.

This means bringing blankets, pillows, lawn chairs, a picnic lunch, perhaps a flying disk or ball to keep the kids and dogs busy and a crank-up flashlight to add magic to the darkness. People arrive early to stake out their territory by placing a blanket on the ground or lawn chairs and relying on the honor system to ensure the claimed space is saved for the concert.

On the last Friday in August, the climax and last breath of the concerts in the park season, one couple arrived with beach chairs, a table and a cooler filled with wine, cheese, crackers and fruit. A man set up a stand and strung a double hammock with pillows. My honey and I brought our folding loveseat and an extra large quilt.

I made a vegan Panini sandwich with almond spread, fresh tomatoes and basil, sautéed squash, onions and eggplant. To drink I put my mint limonada (think fresh squeezed limeade or a mojito sans alcohol) in a thermos. With cloth napkins and glass tumblers we could have been dining at a fine restaurant if that restaurant surrounded each table with live entertainment.

So maybe it wasn’t stare-into-each-others’-eyes and absorb glowing love romance; it was better with vibrant energy, the approval of the community and a chance to huddle (I mean snuggle) together under the quilt when the temperature dropped as soon as the sun slid behind the rocky crags presiding over the park. He put his arm around me. Romance benefits from a community for nurturing.

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