Bill O’Boyle

Bill O’Boyle

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As we prepare for another summer of festivals and bazaars, my advice is savor these times.

In what was a long, long time ago, we always looked forward to the bazaars held by churches, fire companies and Little Leagues. The food was amazing and there were games and rides and families and friends having fun.

And then there were those weekend picnics, held at somebody’s cottage on a lake or under a pavilion at a place called Melody Park or Lake Silkworth or North Lake or Sylvan Lake.

Families would gather early in the morning and stay to dusk and the days would be filled with all sorts of fun that are now cherished memories.

The last time I drove out to what remains of Melody Park, the scene was much different — overgrown with trees and grass, leaving it difficult to see what once was. The swimming hole is still there, but I wouldn’t swim in it. The pavilions where families gathered are gone. The clay basketball/volleyball courts and grassy fields are also gone.

But the memories — lots of memories — remain.

So yes, I hopped in the Way Back Machine and returned to the Melody Park of the 1960s when it was filled with kids and adults and fun and the aroma of hot dogs and hamburgs on the grill, kids splashing in the swimming hole and that unforgettable sound of an egg cracking open in your bare hands.

Every weekend, we would leave our unlocked homes and head out Demunds Road to Charlie Flynn’s Melody Park. Charlie would be at the dirt road entrance, smiling ear-to-ear as he personally welcomed carloads of parents and children to his slice of paradise.

We would park the car next to the pavilion and unload everything. The early arrivals were already setting up, getting tablecloths on the wooden tables and charcoal grills were already flaming, providing the best hot dogs and hamburgs you would ever taste.

All my buddies were there, and we would gather to decide what we were going to do first. That was usually a quick swim, followed by a baseball game in the field, then basketball.

Of course, we took several breaks to eat. Everything was homemade and delicious. I think I had my first deviled egg at these picnics. And as we always said, the party didn’t really start until the baked beans came out.

These were days we we never wanted to see end.

Similar days were spent at all those other lakes with the same result — fun in the sun and water.

As I pull the Way Back Machine into the garage, and as I wallow in the memories of those good old days, I tell you about a return to that same type of experience that happened just yesterday at Lake Carey.

The drive out there reminded me of those car rides to those lakes back in the 1960s. The scenery was awesome and I could almost see and hear my mom and dad talking about where we were going, who would be there and what they were bringing.

At one point, I turned off the air conditioning in the car and rolled down the windows to feel a cool breeze and the fresh air. I may have been heading to Lake Carey, but my mind was traveling to all those family picnics of the 1960s.

It was an incredible trip.

When I arrived at the party — which was to celebrate the retirement of Gail Kobusky Thomas — the scene was so reminiscent of the family picnics of my youth that I couldn’t wait to enjoy this day.

There were families there, kids were playing, fishing, going for boast rides, swimming, swinging, laughing, running. A few dogs were also interacting and parents were watching over their kids.

It was as a 2024 rendition of a good old family picnic of the 1960s.

And when I entered the kitchen and saw the plentiful spread of food, again my memories flowed. All the familiar favorites were there and, of course, a huge bowl of baked beans — confirming that this party had started.

But the best part was the people — connecting and re-connecting with so many. Learning about many of them was revealing to me — some were children and grandchildren of people I know and had known. Some of their family members were at those picnics of the 1960s.

But to see these newer generations and to discover where they came from and where they are headed was an amazing journey for me. The circle of life really does go on and on and on.

And to know the people who are at the foundation of most of their existences was really gratifying. When we were kids, we never thought about where we would be so many decades later.

But here we were. And as our lifelong friend Charles Wayne Bevan sang songs and played the music of our lives, we all could feel the value of family and friends and picnics on a sunny day at a lake.

Yes, the food was delicious and the weather was ideal.

But the genuine connectivity of the people — family and friends — that’s what made this day perfect.

Reach Bill O’Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle.