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The First Summer Picnic

The first summer picnic.

What was more fun? Preparing the menu. Packing up the picnic basket. Remembering the blanket and bug spray. Getting into the car and driving to the lake or park. Finding the perfect spot. Setting up the feast. Uncorking the wine or pulling a cold one out of the ice chest. No phones, no computers. Just nature.

The first summer picnic.

Mosquitos the size of bumble bees. Bumble bees the size of baseballs. Ants canny ability to not only spot food but zoom to food within seconds. More mosquitoes buzzing around, in fact, swarms of mosquitoes to the point that you have to run away.

Oh oh. There is the mini-van pulling up into the parking lot. Oh oh. The worse fears come true. Out pounces four kids that seem to have been locked up for a month. There's the father opening up the back unloading. There's the mother screaming to her kids. Oh oh. Even worse, the father is pulling out a stroller. Oh oh. Yes, it gets worse still. They find the table right next to the one we are sitting at. Now we got mosquitoes, bumble bees, ants and screaming kids.

The first summer picnic.

I think the Y generation is skipping the picnic scene. They were taken to numerous picnics as kids and if an analyst looked into their minds, they would find the picnics were a pain in the butt. So now they are missing out on one of summer's greatest pleasures.

The first summer picnic.

We pack up our stuff and find another perfect spot. This one is away from the water and away from the bugs and away from the screaming kids. Baked fried chicken, crusty bread with olive oil and chunks of cheese, pasta salad, and homemade cookies. The sun is setting. The air is warm and quiet. Hey, this is fun.

The first summer picnic is taking place at TNG today. Chicken breasts have been marinating overnight and my homemade salad dressing is ready to go. Some will have a sandwich, some will have a salad and some like Jason M. will have both. We have Daniel scooping up giant ice cream cones with Moosetracks and caramel crunch ice cream. And what would a picnic be without pickles and chips?

If you are around at noon, stop by and join us. It's in the parking lot with a great view of Haggerty Road. And if nothing else, at least you can say that you were at your first summer picnic.

Happy Friday!


Adam Harris was born in coal country, right in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. His father, Gregory, worked the mines every day and came home to his best friend, Jim Beam. Gregory had many frie


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