Family Life

History Matters

This past week and weekend starting Wednesday night and ending Saturday night my home town of Warwick, NY celebrated its sesquicentennial, 150 years.

Festivities included outdoor concerts at Railroad Green which is the town square, games in the park for the kids, a watermelon eating contest, best mustache, beard and side-burn contests and, of course, a parade and fireworks on Saturday night. The town also dug up a time capsule, first buried in 1967. The contents of it are on display at the Legion Hall.  When town officials dug it up I did see there were letters, plates and cards inside, but as yet I’ve not had a chance to go look at them.

Remember the days of old; consider the years of many generations; ask your father, and he will show you, your elders, and they will tell you. ~Deuteronomy 32:7

I saw friends and people I knew growing up that I haven’t seen in decades. One friend, Tracey, who used to live next door but has  since moved, returned and spent the weekend with us.

Ryan was in the parade as one of Warwick’s firefighters.  Anaia and I were excited to see him in the truck rolling down Main Street.

True talent, right here….

Although… she was so exhausted from the other fun happenings in town that she fell sound asleep right on the sidewalk waiting for the parade to begin!

The parade was the best one  I’ve ever seen. There were bands, bagpipers (which promptly woke Anaia up), mounted police, and Uncle Sam shaking hands with everyone. There was a float with a dancing apple, followed by local orchard owners on tractors, and farmers riding field equipment. Town officials proudly waved to the crowd. The mayor of Warwick England (our sister town) and his wife were even there. People were dressed up in old time clothing, too. Anaia was really excited when she saw the clown that was at her birthday party goofily dancing down the street.

It meant so much to me. I’m very proud to be part of this close knit community. I’ve family members that go back in Warwick to the Revolutionary War and are buried in the town cemetery. Now I’m raising my daughter in the same town I grew up in. It doesn’t get much better than that. She sees the same sights I did when I was a child. She swims in the same lake, plays in the same park, goes to the same firemen’s carnival and runs around in the same yard as I did.

I’m grateful for every moment like that. I truly know how special it is. My greatest gift that I can give Anaia is wings and roots; Wings to show her what she can become, and roots to remind her where she came from.