Tis the season of Lightning Bugs, or as some call them, Fireflies. Upon seeing them here in Ohio I’m reminded of summers at my Grandmother Rodgers’ home on Bank St. In Louisville’s Portland (Irish) neighborhood. I looked forward to be there with our McCullough and Rodgers cousins and receiving the abundant love from Gramma Rodgers and Aunt Annie Murphy.
Before leaving home we all took the obiglitory swig of Pepto Bismol to forestall car sickness and Rest Room stops, always at SOHIO as they were the cleanest.
The drive to Louisville was along Route 42. Today it would be an enjoyable and scenic summer drive through ‘Beautiful Ohio’ in an air conditioned car. Back then however it was brutal – hot and boring. In the towns with multiple route signs, if Dad missed a turn he would freak out. It wasn’t pleasant to witness. This was before the days of Interstate travel and auto air conditioners. When we finally crossed the Ohio River into the Bluegrass State, Mom would always point out the tobacco plants growing.
On some days in Louisville there would be an airplane doing skywriting. When that occurred we knew bottles of Ginger Ale would be dropped by the pilot. And don’t you know, we were always lucky to find one in the backyard bushes. The first summer we found one we were introduced to a ‘Boston Cooler’, a scoop of ice cream added to the glass of a ginger Ale.
Traveling back home from Louisville I suffered the heat and boredom again. Somehow it seemed it took longer than when we went. The thought of laying my face on the cool pillow that awaited me at home was a measure of comfort that sustained me till we got there.
