Sundays in the Summertime
by John Mooy
It was like clockwork on Sunday mornings. Harley Moorlag would drive his wife Evilo into town, drop her off at church and then drive to our house where my dad was sitting on the front porch waiting for him. Evilo went to church and Harley didn’t. Two more decent people you would never find.
After Dad and Harley visited for an hour, Harley would get up to go pick up Evilo and they would drive home. It all took place there on our screened-in front porch. What a wonderful place to be. During the summertime I slept on the porch. I loved being out there. Sometimes when it rained, there was a mist resulting from the rain hitting the screens and it would gently fall onto my face. It was a great place to wake up.
And there were those lazy Sunday afternoons when Mom and Dad would announce we were going for a ride in the car. “Where are we going?” And the response was “just for a ride.” No destination was necessary. Everyone would climb into the car and off we would go. There was one thing that always seemed to happen. Someone was sitting on their porch and that was where we would stop. We’d go up and join them on their porch. Just for a visit which sometimes came with lemonade, tea and maybe some cookies. When I was small, I would just sit there and listen to the conversation. I often found it to be entertaining.
When I think back and in my mind drive the streets of Marcellus, it’s easy for me to recall the porches on the houses of my friends. It’s also easy to recall many of the activities continually going on there, Monopoly games, other board games and card games were set up, and played almost daily on those porches around town. Boys spent time looking through baseball cards and trading them and sitting with friends with a slice of watermelon followed by the practice and perfection of spitting the seeds into the yard for distance.
Sometimes when I drive from South Haven to Marcellus, I keep an eye out to see what’s happening on the porches along the way. Too often it seems the answer is not much. On one hand it saddens me to consider this is a part of vanishing Americana. I’m not sure.
In my reading on the subject, I found the porch was a universal space that transitioned between indoors and outdoors, creating a sense of security for many. A buffer between the private and public. A place for reflection and a place to sit back and watch time pass. The front porch was a multi-purpose space that soon began to lose interest due to changing times.
The porches in Marcellus that I was familiar with always seemed to be a safe haven. Maybe given the times we live in we now need the porch to again be a more active part of our daily lives. And with the hot days of summer, it used to be someone would suggest going to sit on the porch to catch a cool breeze. Some would say that with the creation of the air conditioner there was no need to go to the porch.
In my case the front porch gave us a closer look at the street which passed in front of our house. It provided an opportunity to talk to people as they walked by and wave at people as they drove by. My favorite porch story involved our neighbor, Marion Bowers, who on a particular Sunday had prepared to attend a family reunion in Jones. Being the good cook and baker that she was Marion had the task of baking two of her delicious pies. In loading a host of goodies into her car she first placed the two pies on top of her car while loading the picnic basket into the back seat. With that task completed Marion got into the car and began to drive down our street to the corner where she would turn left. The problem was that Marion had forgotten to put the pies into the car. I was sitting on the porch with Dad and as Marion approached the stop sign Dad noticed the pies. Jumped up out of his seat and hollered at Marion to slow down. Well, she came to a stop at the stop sign, but the pies didn’t stop. They slid off the roof, down the windshield, across the hood of the car and on to the pavement.
Dad was out the door and as best they could carefully place the pies neatly back into the pie pan. Dad assured Marion the pies would still be tasty and would be accompanied by a great story. Perfect for a family reunion.
In making my point on behalf of the porch all I can say is I would never have seen the event had I been sitting inside the house on this beautiful day.
Long live the Sunday drives with no destination and the value of the porch.
Have a great week, Marcellus.
You’re the best.
I hope to see you on the porch
when I’m in town.
The people in your life are like the pillars on your porch.
Sometimes they hold you up, and sometimes they lean on you.
Sometimes it’s enough to know they are standing by.
-Merle Shain
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