A hand-written treasure

In the days leading up to the holiday, my mom can’t resist saying “Knee high by the Fourth of July” every time she passes by a corn field. As it goes, I find myself murmuring the same, now outdated, phrase just for the sake of bringing back old memories.

Summer nostalgia can certainly feel personal, but I’d guess we all have an overlapping theme or two. A few of my June through August memories are of the early morning Fourth and Southview newspaper route, barefoot bike rides to the city swimming pool, softball games at Freedom Park, Wednesday concerts at the band shell, and the around the clock block of neighborhood friends. Many evenings began with my dad at the grill, my mom in the kitchen, and my siblings and me on the back porch racing to husk corn.

Land Minds

By Laura Cole