Yes, I was a band geek in high school! And for some reason, I was lucky enough to have commandeered the use of my high school’s only piccolo! It was, by far, the easiest instrument to carry while marching in the hot summer heat.

Every Forth of July morning, my sister (who played trumpet) and I would head to our little village and march in the rag-tag parade. I remember very little about these parades, except for two things:

• It was hot in our wool uniforms, which were designed to withstand cold autumn football halftime shows
• We just wanted to get it over with so we could start our family celebration

As the sun disappeared on the horizon over Vickerman Hill, the adults retreated indoors to tell jokes and eat dessert, usually some green jello marshmallow concoction that my aunt Joan brought in a Tupperware container.

My parents, who did not drink often, would serve a local rot gut beer, I think it was Utica Club. After one beer my mom would inform everyone she was “drunk under her armpits!” To this day, I have never heard anyone else use this term, but the thought of it always puts a smile on my face.

We opted to stay outdoors with only three things in mind:

• Toasting marshmallows over the leftover hot coals of the barbecue pit
• Chasing and catching lightening bugs
• Waving around hand-held sparklers