A Most Memorable Occasion

Hey Frank, here’s a story for you!

There we were, sitting outright in the interior of Mexico, by the side of the road: my mother, brother, and I. We were situated in a little park, seated at a gleaming, fully tiled table with nary a person around us but for the cars on the nearby road. This was life with Mother; Expect the unexpected. As teenagers, David and I were in love with adventure, so this indeed fit the criterion for us. Mother had announced a few days earlier that we should take a road trip. From our home in Austin, Texas, we’d pass through San Antonio, Nuevo Laredo, then continue into the interior of Mexico. This wasn’t an unusual happening in Texas in the 1960s. First, you’d stop briefly at Sanborn’s to get car insurance, then cross the border. We went regularly to experience fun shopping, good food, lively music, fresh breezes, and the magic of the creative abandon exhibited by the people of Mexico.  

On this excursion, Mother had put together a well-thought-out menu for our roadside meals. In the cooler was a neatly packaged homemade meatloaf, a jar of mayonnaise, and a jar of sweet pickle relish. A basket in the floorboard held a loaf of bread, napkins, utensils, a jug of water, a package of powdered milk, cups, and some blue and green melamine plates. We pulled to a stop at the first fruit stand we saw, slowing carefully to a stop so as not to kick up dust from the highway. Mother joyfully and kindly greeted the vendors, (as was her nature) admiring their goods and making her happy choices. Then, off we went to our picnic table.

This memory is so much a part of me now. The table was set and our plates were filled with the most delectable combination of flavors: A cold meatloaf sandwich with mayonnaise and relish, along with a lovely salad of grapefruit and avocado slices, finished off with a large glass of cold milk. Divine! There’s just something about eating outside in the breeze.

After our tasty repast, we packed up and headed farther into Mexico towards San Luis Potosí. That picnic (and the later ones we experienced on that trip) sit so prettily in my memory bank as the best moments one could ever share.  

Picnics are such a well-loved part of all our lives, aren’t they? Once the plan is underway, a picnic can take on a special personality, an ambiance that the hostess concocts to make it a glorious event. It can be held in the grass on a blanket, or be served on the tailgate of a car. A table can be set with finery beneath a tree. The food can be packed in jars and containers and carried in a basket, or you may choose to simply serve from your kitchen and transport the plated food outside. So many lovely decisions to make as you plan for the event. 

In Wind in the Willows, author Kenneth Grahame, (1908) pens a picnic scene that goes like this: Mole becomes hungry and asks Ratty what’s in his wicker basket. “There’s cold chicken, cold tongue, ham, beef, pickled gherkins, salad, French rolls, cress sandwiches, with ginger beer and lemonade.”  “O stop, stop!” cried the Mole in ecstasy. “This is too much!” Ratty replies with all seriousness, telling him “It’s only what I always take on these little excursions, and the other animals are always telling me that I’m a mean beast and cut it VERY fine!’

Grahame goes on to describe Mole’s enchantment with the feast which was to come — “intoxicated with the sparkle” of light on the river, “he trailed a paw in the water” and lost himself in his daydreams. This scene, indeed, depicts what lies ahead for each of us: that exhilarating, incomparable experience— of great preparation, the packing of the basket, coupled with the moment the blanket is then spread on the grass, the hamper opened, and the tasty morsels are laid forth for a magnificent outdoor feast. Just think. It starts with one simple utterance: “Oh, let’s have a picnic!

Frank, I envision your next picnic with friends. Perhaps it’ll be outside in the freshness of life among the trees, with fallen leaves at your feet. You’ll set your hamper on a quilt alongside a pond. Perhaps serve refreshments on your lilypad?  I imagine guests responding in Wind in the Willows fashion, becoming “intoxicated with the sparkle” of light on the water, getting lost in their daydreams as they partake of your sumptuous repast. Please, oh please, include me!

Love,

Jane