when lightning comes in a jar

When lightning comes in a jar, written and illustrated by Patricia Polacco. Today is my family reunion. I can hardly wait. My dad's side of the family will come soon. It's been ages since I've seen them all before our reunions were always at my grandma's house, but this year it's going to be at mine. I'm anxious to see my cousins, especially Lydia and sandy. They will be wearing the same colors that we always wear a family reunions. They wore them at our last reunion. How I remember that day, grandma and I stood in the front window waiting for my relatives to come. I can't wait to see them all. I said to her, I know she answered, whether it be Jell-O, like they're always is, I asked? Yes, she answered, and baseball and croquet, like they owe. They're always is and bag races too, and will you tell me stories like you always do? Might grandma said, looking up at the sky, and we might catch lightning in a jar. Lightning in a jar, I asked, this was new. And then my relatives started driving up by the Carlo one after another, finally the car I was waiting for rolled up at my cousin's piled out, sandy, Freddy, Billy, lydian Carl, sandy, Lydia, and I squealed and ran for the porch swing, just like we always did, we held hands and pushed the swing with our bare feet. We told secrets that we had kept for a whole year, I told them about the lightning in a jar when my dad called out, who's gonna help unload these baskets from the car. We shout at we will, and we love baskets full and heavy to the tables in the Maple Grove, wonder how many gel salads there will be, my cousin Freddie asked gazillions, they're always are, my cousin Billy answered, sure enough there were gazillions, they jumped and shook every time we bumped the table. They seemed alive. But there be as many meatloafs too, my brother chimed in. There they were, as we unpacked them, zillions of meatloaves, there were all different too, each anti had her own recipe, including aunt Bertha, who made one with the hard boiled egg in the middle. We, when we cut it, there was a perfect slice of egg like a giant eye, our aunties and grandma flitted around the tables like butterflies going from flower to flower. They perked up the lettuces or rearrange the tomatoes and set slices of meatloaf so they looked perfect when grandma and aunties took off their aprons. We all knew it was time to gather at the table. We all held hands, uncle wayland, said the blessings, then everyone sat down and dove into the food, piling it high on their plates, some as high as haystacks. My brother Richie was sitting with some older girls that came with our older cousins. He was acting silly. I could tell he liked one of them in when we thought we couldn't eat anymore, grandma and my aunties put their aprons back on and started getting all the pies and cakes from the kitchen. There was something magical about my grandma and her sisters this day. Like they knew something they weren't telling. I did wonder how grandma was going to catch lightning in a jar and ever so often I stop or an ask her how she just smiled and say easy someday you'll do it too. After we ate it was time for our annual baseball game, my dad and uncles against us kids better up, my dad called out as my cousin Billy stepped up to home plate, lucky he was on our team, he could at anything. When he was out at field he'd leap into the air and make him possible catches, that kid can jump higher than a Kyle's back our uncles used to say. First pitch out Billy hit the ball so hard, it cleaned disappeared. We thought we saw lightning as it hit the sky. Maybe the lightning was on its way, was that what grandma was going to catch in a jar? I'm going to be a Detroit Tiger someday, Billy said that day we all knew that he most certainly would next it was time for coquette, the biggest game of the day which our uncles kept interrupting with friendly quarrels about bent hoops, crooked wickets, and wanting to take rich shots, we had bag races, watermelon seed spitting contests, and rides on grandpa's draft horse, too, until grapple waved a yardstick in the air, all of us kids dropped what we were doing and ran to the milk shed, we knew it was time to get measured, we did this every year. I liked looking at the marks of my grandma and her sisters and brothers on the same doorway, some shorter than mine. Hard to imagine that once they were little, just like me, and Bertha had gone to the house and fetched all the family portrait albums. The ante showed us old Brown photos and pointed that was their father who saved souls as a circuit preacher when he was in farming. Look there were their favorite horses, their eyes sparkled when they showed us their wedding pictures. The antes were all married in their mother's parlor. I watched grandma to see if she would summon the lightning from the sky. It's time for our family photo and iva called out as she jumped up and grabbed her camera. We kids didn't like this part because it meant that any dirt on her faces would be scraped off with a hanky that are anti had spit on, especially mine, everybody smile, anti iva saying out after this, the kids started to chant stories, stories, stories, please. Grandma and her sisters and brothers stirred it quiet and slow, uncle ormus told about milking cows faster than lightning, grandma told about how she and her sisters walked 7 miles to a one room schoolhouse over in lucky center, and how each of them had taught in the same school, then there was some quiet as an iva started fanning herself. We knew she was getting ready. I remember the day I was driving the rig home from school when I came upon a real rattlesnake. We all looked at one another. Well there's worn around these parts, so we knew this was going to be good. That thing was all coiled up and shaking its tail, not a rattling sound, something more like a loud buds, bell horse just stood there and shook. What did you do, and iva, we asked, well, sir, I stepped out of the buggy, took my umbrella, put it smack in the middle of it, snake oil called up. It just wrapped around that umbrella. I knew if it struck me, I was a goner. We all leaned forward, so I picked it up, gave the umbrella a shook sharper and flung that snake into Cecile Potter's field, then I jumped into my buggy and galloped home, like the wind, all my aunts, and uncles left, then I flicker of heat lightning, sprang out of the horizon, the air didn't move. Was some magic going to happen? And I'd have fluttered her fan. We knew she was getting ready to top and iva's story have I ever told you children about the time I took a ride in the first newfangled motor car and this year county? No, the kids sang out. Well, sir, it belonged to LV dunkel, my paw didn't approve of him, no never, no how. He's a wild kid, he'd rape. Don't ever want to see you with the likes of him, then one day when I was walking home from prayer meeting, he rolled up next to me driving the shiniest machine I'd ever seen, and I had to stop and find some more. What happened in Ida we begged? Well in Ida crawled, I climb brought into that thing, eldie shifted that contraction, making a terrible sound, and that roadster almost leaped right from under us. When we went so fast, my hat moved clean off. We were going to almost 40 miles an hour, we raced up more road, hurl around Eva Peters barn, almost flattened the bender sisters fruit stand, then how down deep road we gasped, and then we skidded to a stop in front of Paul's barn. There he was, just a standing there. She stopped again and fanned herself. What did he do, an Ida? What happened? We all pleaded, not a blessed thing. She answered, and laughed so hard. She almost dropped her lemonade, heat lightning flickered again. There was a low rumbling of thunder off in the distance, now I watched my grandmother, she smiled and gave me a wink. It was her turn. Well, sir, grandma began. I was but a girl, a plowing, helping Paul with a field, his team could pull those rows straight as an arrow, when the team reared and bolted and dragged me halfway down the field before I could free myself. When I stood up there was a fierce and clattering roar in the sky above me, we all leaned toward her. It was like thunder and fierce lightning, she stopped and sipped her lemonade. What was a grandma? We kids beg, I looked up waiting for the lightning, well, sir, I couldn't believe what I was seeing above me. We crawled close to her knee. There, like a giant dragonfly with two sets of wings, growling and roaring. Pitching and rolling, spewing foul smelling smoke, she leaned forward, it was the first ever flying machine in the state of Michigan. We all clapped with delight. That would have been a perfect time for the lightning to come, but it didn't, and it was almost dark, I whispered to grandma, what about the lightning in a jar? She adjusted her glasses and gave me a look. Have the last rays of sun left the grass she asked? I looked real hard. Yes, I said, then sit down, child. Aunt Bertha brought a wicker laundry basket full of glass canning jars and set the my grandma's feet. Many years ago when your aunties and uncles and I were but children are grandpa showed us what I am about to show you. She leaned down and touched the grass, cupping something in her hands. She thought for a moment and then said, shadows lengthen the day near done, birds fly low at setting sun, stars will rise from earth below, and these hands, their light will glow, come up, lightning, come up stars, will snatch you up in these here jars, she blew into her hands and let something go if flew for a moment, then landed deep into the grass, we watched and watched but nothing was happening low thunder rumbled just above us, look my cousin Billy called out a small burst of starlight puffed up out of the grass, then more and more drifted up out of the carpet of lawn beneath our feet, fireflies we called out, we grabbed the jars and the dash was on to capture lightning and put it in the jar, grandma gave me a knowing look and smiled when everyone had gone home that night grandma and I sat on the porch swing together. We looked at the flickering jar and even though fireflies are common in Michigan on summer nights, never had I seen so many as at night and as long as I live, I'll believe that somehow grandma called them up with their stories in her magic that night seemed so long ago, but the reunion is here again. My family is arriving now, my heart is racing. We'll each scrumptious Jell-O and meatloaf play baseball and croquet spit watermelon seeds and scroll new measurements on my local store jam will look at full albums will laugh at some and cry out others will remember the stories how grandma saw the first flying machine and iva conquered the radler will talk about Billy and how he should have been a Detroit Tiger, but gave his life for his country in a war far away, then when the sun is low when the shadow is long, will all sit in fan ourselves in the shade of the maple trees only a new crop of children will gather at our knees, my father, my grandmother, my aunt and uncles are no longer here, so now what is we who must tell their stories and bring them back for fleeting moments, then I will show the children the magic that my grandma showed me, I'll call the stars from beneath their feet, and as they rise in the warm night air, these children will leap as high as a cow's back to gather them up, I'll send them home with full bellies tired bones and flickering jars in their laps, their hearts will be overflowing, full of lightning, put there by folks who love them even before they were born, grandma knew this well, she also knew that some day they would tell their children about all of us, and of the magic knights we caught lightning in a jar.