Founder's Day

“Come away from that, children. It is very precious to me.”

Stuart was the bold one. “Why can’t we play with it? It’s just a ball.”

“Aw, little ones, it is more than a ball. It is the life story of a valiant girl. Gather round, I will tell you the story of The Great Accident.”

She'd gotten the big red ball when she was six. Now that she was ten, she loved it even more. Especially when it turned blue.

Stuart would not follow directions, “That ball, Aunt Josie?”

“Yes, Stuart, that ball.”

Marissa was the one who could not stop fidgeting. “Is this going to be boring?”

Josie smiled softly. “I do not know. It is not boring to me.”

Stuart came to the lead again, “Be quiet, I want to hear the rest of the story.”

Connie and Corrie may have been born 4 minutes apart, but that is the closest they have been since. Where Connie was artistic, Corrie was athletic. Where Connie was quiet and girly, Corrie was a tomboy. Where Connie liked her hair long and flying free, Corrie, wore hers short and messy. They did not like the same colors, shows, clothes, food. Mama always said, “I declare if I had not given birth to you two, I would not believe you were related to me.”

The twins always got their heart’s desire for birthdays. All Connie wanted was a big red ball. Corrie only wanted candy. On the sixth birthday, each got their heart’s desire. Connie loved the big red ball and always made sure she knew where it was. Until she was ten …

It was the day of the town’s Founder’s Day Festival. There were games and events of all sorts to entertain the town’s people and the children. Everyone brought a To Share dish for the Great Picnic. Oh, it was grand fun. Everyone would laugh and play as they could. Prizes were given out for the best in the sporting events. The day was ended in a sing-along. Some of the older men would sit in the pavilion and smoke pipes and play cards.

“That reminds me, every time I smell sweet cherry ambrosia pipe smoke, it reminds me of my grandpapa. He was very tall and gave us whisker rubs. He would grab us kids into a big hug and rub his whiskers against our face. I really love my grandpapa.” Josie’s let her gaze drift above the children’s heads as she thought back to her grandpa rocking her on one knee and Rosie on the other knee as he told them stories of growing up on the farm way back when.

Stuart’s voice sifted through her reminiscing. “How does that make the ball blue?”

Josie refocused on the children. “Where was I?”

In unison the children shouted out, “The picnic!”

Aw, yes. As happens with running and playing on hot days, people wanted to cool off. Most of the mothers would wave fans, the fathers would drink beer, and the children would have water fights. Most people did not think much of it, after all nothing unfortunate had ever happened at the celebration other than nicks and scrapes from too much roughhousing.

This day would be different and would become the day the town’s festivities ended quite terribly. Surely you see amongst yourselves that children like to stick together. It is more fun to do things in groups. Connie and Corrie were no different. Corrie dared the other children to go down to the river with her to cool off. No one really noticed when five of the children disappeared to go have fun down by the river. The children would dare each other into more risky activities. That is how Connie ended up in the water being tugged and pulled by the water as she clung to a rock. Connie was not the strong swimmer and thought she would be pulled from the rock and carried downstream. Maybe if she was lucky, she would not drown. That is when she felt a hand grab her by the back of her dress and push her back on shore. Corrie commanded Connie, “Quit fighting me, I’m trying to help.” The four children pulling from the front and Corrie pushing from the back managed to get Connie onto shore. Corrie, however, lost her grip on the shore and was carried downstream before the children could help her out of the water. The children stared in horror as Corrie missed grasping the rock that Connie had been holding onto only minutes earlier. The children ran to tell the fathers and all the men ran to the river to try to find Corrie.

That is the day, the laughing stopped in Connie’s house. Connie ran to her room and grabbed her big red ball and cried into its elastic surface. Then the ball became quite cold and Connie’s tears were replaced with curiosity. She watched in fascination as the story of Corrie’s life played across the surface of the now blue ball like a movie. That was the day that Connie knew she loved her sister more than anything. And the ball would be a forever reminder of that Corrie lived, a forever reminder of how much Connie really loved her sister.

Marissa was the first one to speak. “That’s you, Aunt Josie.”

“Yes, honey, it is my story. It was just easier telling it this way.”

“Do you need a hug?”

“Yes, honey, I do.”

The children got up one by one to give Aunt Josie a hug. And then, as children do, something else caught their interest. Stuart needed to play, he had been sitting by far too long. He slapped Timothy on the back, “Tag, you’re it” and took off at a gallop. All the other children scampered trying to stay away from Timothy’s hand so they would not be “it.”

Josie smiled tenderly as they left the room. It felt good telling Rosie’s story. 70 years was a mighty long time not to be able to tell the story. At first, everyone wanted to know the story, but Josie did not want to tell it. When she did want to tell it, no one wanted to listen. Until now. The children might remember and retell the story. Josie looked at the ball one last time. She never had children of her own, these children would have to be the ones that proved that she and her sister existed and mattered. Josie arranged herself in her chair and slipped off to sleep. This day, she would never hear the call that it was time to go to the Founder’s Day Picnic.