Slush

By Stephanie Linehan

Riding the bus as a kid is a very vivid memory for me. I can remember the bus seats weren’t nearly as tall as they are nowadays. I can remember my blond-haired, mustached bus driver, and I can remember the song “Jack and Diane” by John Mellencamp playing on the radio. I can remember the older kids in the back and the younger kids in the front because all the schools had the same start and end times. I can remember my first school bag with my name hand-stitched across the front and soon enough, designer brands like Esprit. I would wear out those cloth bags in no time, carrying all my books. I can remember “asking out” the neighbor boy as we walked down the bus steps and parted ways in my driveway. He saying “yes” and me bee-lining it to my front door because I was so giddy. But what is even more clear, vivid, etched, and loved in my memory is the scene coming off that bus. The moms. Circled up in my front yard. Enjoying my mom’s infamous brandy slush recipe.

A year ago I took a graduate class at Viterbo called “Rituals and Celebrations.” It was part of my servant leadership graduate work. The course centered on the importance of such: having, noting, acknowledging, and respecting rituals and celebrations in our lives. To stop and take time to notice these important - often vital - parts in our days. It was a common occurance to be met off the bus by my mom’s circle of friends. The moms of our neighborhood.

It’s not that it was brandy slush at 3:30 in the afternoon - she had an NA option, too - wink, wink. One ice cream pail for each. It was the fact that after a long day of the little ones at home, housework, volunteering, and such, they came together to pause and convene. Ritual and celebration. Looking back, what I see now is love and camaraderie. That carried those moms and us kids - all of us - through the years. Through nightly games of Kick-the-Can, street hockey games, playing catch in the front yard, games of “pig” with our mauve-painted basketball hoop, forts in the woods, high school graduations, weddings, and funerals.

Two years ago this winter, a long-time neighbor and lifelong friend passed away as a result of a horrific house fire right there in my childhood neighborhood. Kiddie-corner and across the street from my childhood home. With my own mom and neighbors witnessing and watching; holding, crying, and praying. Shortly after, we lost another dear neighborhood friend to Alzheimers. I’ve watched my mom continue to cry and grieve over the loss of those beloved friends. The circle of brandy-slush drinkers enters my mind time and time again. Thankful for that time together and wishing to have it back.

“We didn’t realize we were making memories. We just knew we were having fun.” - A.A. Milne

“If only we knew, as we later do, that these years are the best. If only we knew, as we later do, our childhood years are blessed.” - Bob Ollier

“At the end of the day, it’s not about what you have or even what you've accomplished. It’s about who you’ve lifted up and who you’ve made better. It’s about what you’ve given back.” - Denzel Washington

“Find a group of people who challenge you and inspire you, spend a lot of time with them, and it will change your life.” - Amy Poehler

“Ain’t no hood like motherhood.” - Unknown

“You never forget the neighborhood kids you grew up with.” - Unknown