A Tablecloth and Pork n Beans

“Mom, are you sinkin’ (thinking) what I’m sinkin’? It’s a perfect day for a picnic.”

-Eva Jewel (four-years-old)

I can still see Dad slide the green Coleman cooler out the back of the truck, both hands on the handles and a slight lean of his back to support the heavy load in his arms. My mother would already be covering the picnic table with a tablecloth. She would hardly approve of a picnic without one, except on the rare occasion of an impromptu arrangement, which can happen quite frequently in my family. Brittney and I were always in charge of lugging the remaining bags of dry goods up to the picnic spot without complaining.

Sometimes it was cold-cut sandwiches; other times, dad would fire up a charcoal grill and grill burgers. On special occasions (like the 4^th of July), mom would pack fried chicken! Pork and beans seemed to be at every picnic, no matter the main dish. Either souped-up, baked, or straight from the can. I have even seen my dad pull out his pocket knife because mom forgot the can opener and work his way around the can so that it could be served at the picnic.

I asked my dad once where the obsession with pork and beans came from? He replied, “I can’t recall many picnics growing up without them. Your Grandma and Grandpa always had them in the basket.”

The green Coleman cooler always accompanied festivals, zoo trips, and amusement parks. Mom had the blankets handy and lunch ready for roadside, fairgrounds, trips, or the backyard.

Working out in the pasture, or a fun day of horseback riding, came packed with lunch outside. One such day, mom and dad loaded up the truck and drove out to a friend’s pasture land. Dad drove until he found the perfect spot of tall grass, shade trees, and boulders. We set up a picnic and enjoyed a day of exploring. Dad told us all about the land and how it was settled back in the pioneer days. He helped Brittney collect arrowheads, and I spent time with mom, probably gathering wildflowers, my favorite type of bouquet. Once mom took home an old wagon wheel. The hub from that wagon wheel is currently sitting on my back porch, holding my jasmine.

A couple of years ago, I took Eva, who was four, to visit my grandparents, her great-grandparents, in the Smoky Mountains. They spend every October there to enjoy an entire month of watching the leaves change.

The foliage and the company are irreplaceable.

One day, while visiting, we drove to New Found Gap, at the top of the mountain overlooking Tennessee and North Carolina. This road winds around toward the sky for miles. Each curve offers a spot to pull over and get out so you can look out across the Smoky Mountains and enjoy the smoky haze that gives the mountain chain its name. The smoke glides over the mountain peaks, and the deep colors of fall paint the tops. The road ends in an open field with an old homestead place you can explore. Many people pull off and set up chairs because the elk come out to graze at sunset.

We stopped at a picnic area to eat and let Eva play during our journey over the mountain. I never said a word as I helped set up the picnic, but I took notice of all the similarities. Even in their eighties, they set up a tablecloth, passed out plates, and unloaded all the picnic essentials – pork and beans were forgotten, but I forgave them.

On our travels South, I used to get so jealous when I would see kids in the car eating fast food as they would drive past our picnic. It never occurred to me those kids, quite possibly, wished they were in my shoes, wishing their family would stop long enough to throw a tablecloth over a table and make a homemade lunch while enjoying one another’s company- what a concept.

My childish ways never swayed my parent’s decision to open a can of pork and beans.

Today our picnics continue, whether gathered around the firepit, down by the creek, for hotdogs and smores, or spread out on blankets after a day at the zoo. The green Coleman cooler still makes a showing when visiting the folks, and you can be sure a tablecloth is spread- with pork and beans in the center.

During our transition to our new home, I was frustrated with inconsistencies that seemed to be knocking at every turn. One of which was no dining room table. I made mention of my irritations to my sister. She replied, “I know, Sis, but I bet you have had lots of picnics.”

Welcome Home

“Then He commanded the multitudes to sit down on the grass. And He took the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to Heaven, He blessed and broke and gave the loaves to the disciples, and the disciples gave to the multitudes.” Matthew 14:19

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