A Day In 1967

It was a windy day My kite was practically blowing away But I was in a good mood Because a bologna sandwich is my kind of food Grandma skipped the mustard, put mayo on mine Because she knows me, and she is really quite fine. My cousins were with me, but they gave me some space ‘Cause I had Bruto with me and he wanted a taste. Bruto is my dog, loyal to a fault, but sneaks a bite I had to watch him closely while I was flying my kite My cousin Ally came over and tried to entice him away But he is my dog through and through every single day The grass was soft, the day was warm, but not too hot My cousins were there, and they number a lot. Eleven firsts, but with the seconds, maybe twenty-two. I ate my sandwich, and there were brownies too. It was 1967, a terrific year to be a boy in Cedar Falls. We made a day of it, played with jump ropes and balls. Our mothers yelled for us for supper, and there was dessert. We were grimy and happy after a day in the dirt. Watermelon was brought out at the end of the night. We were dragged away from Grandma’s, it was a sad sight. When I am having a bad day, I think back to that time. A fabulous day, a week after I had just turned nine.