A cookout on the 4th of July has been a tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. When I was a youngster, dad would load us in the old pickup truck along with an old cast iron wash pot, some watermelons and cantaloupes and the makings of a fish fry and take us through the woods along sandy dirt roads to the old family swimming hole, the “Whirl Hole”. On arriving at the “Whirl Hole”, dad would throw the watermelons into the creek where they would drift against some logs in the shaded stream. By the middle of the afternoon, the melons would be cool and ready to eat.

Then we would gather wood to fire the wash pot and get the grease hot to fry a big pile of fresh catfish while we kids romped and swam gleefully and whetted our appetites in the “ole swimming hole”.

I have continued that tradition across the years and I cannot remember a 4th of July passing with out a cookout—either fish or barbecue. This year it was BBQ.

This year since the 4th of July was on Sunday and I had to preach, we did our cookout on Monday. However, it all started on Sunday afternoon when B. J.’s sister Rita and her fun-loving hubby Brad came to spend the holiday with us and stay over for the BBQ.

We got the ball rolling on Sunday night with a steak grilling. After steaks, we saddled Ole Red, let his mane down and loped around the island with the girls’ hair blowing in the wind. Then I tied Ole Red to a hitching tree and we all dismounted and made our way to the St. Simons Pier to find us a good slot from which to watch the fireworks display.

After the awesome fireworks show, we wormed our way amongst the multitude to Ole Red. I unhitched him, reined him through the traffic to our house where we sat around, cut up, laughed and carried on until midnight.

Monday morning I was up early. It was BBQ day and I had a lot to do. Rita was up next, mumbling and moping sleepily about the kitchen. Next came B. J. and finally Brad struggled out of the sack.

Around 10:00am I put the ribs, along with some pork chops and sausage on the grill and the cookout was under way (and I had conjured up some Brunswick stew, too). Brad and Rita came out and gave me some moral support around the hot grill.

Lunchtime arrived and our guests began gathering and bringing such goodies as potato salad, marinated vegetables, onion pies, coleslaw and pasta. B. J. made peach ice cream and blueberry cobbler, and there was corn-on-the-cob and watermelon. On top of it all, my favorite sister-in-law Rita made me my very own coconut cake.

It was fantastical and fun delicious. We all gathered and had a great celebration of the 4th of July on the 5th of July.

However, the beat goes on. That evening while we were sitting around rubbing our tummies, Charles, our friend and neighbor called and informed us that he has a freezer full of fish that needs cooking and eating. So, a neighborhood fish fry is in the making.

On Tuesday (Weight Watcher Day) B. J. and I ate lightly in order not to tip the scales too much. Really, I had only gained a half pound. Nonetheless, Tuesday was wing night at the rib shack, so after weight watchers, B. J. and I stopped by.

Maybe cereal for breakfast, I thought to myself as I dozed off; that was not to be. On Wednesday morning, while still in bed, B. J. raised the question: “What do you want for breakfast?”

Right then I made a mistake. I answered a question with a question: “What do you want?”

“Well, I was thinking about breakfast out this morning,” she replied drowsily.

“You are kidding,” I answered.

“Nope, we haven’t eaten at the King and Prince for a while. Then we can walk it off on the beach; are you game?”

Well, I saddled Ole Red, let his mane down and we sprinted across the early morning marsh to the King and Prince and got a table by the big bay window with a good view of the beach.

The Fourth of July week may linger. During it all, somebody dropped a hint about a grand finale at Lady and Sons in Savannah.

Oh my, B. J., we desperately have to get back on the granola or Cathy is going to kick us out of Weight Watchers.