Katolicky Delnik

That's Czech for "Catholic Workman."

I was chatting with Mom tonight, and she mentioned that she went to the annual K-D picnic in Timken, her hometown, tonight. It was held at a cafe on "the hill," as they call it there locally. The hill being the high ground next to K-96, which passes just south of Timken. You then take a short county road down into Timken.

When I was little, the annual K-D picnic was held on the last Sunday of July or the first Sunday of August in Timken's city park. "Catholic Workman" was started to provide life insurance to immigrants, so wives would not be left destitute when their husbands died. Over the years, it became as much or more a social organization that allowed residents of Czech descent to celebrate their heritage....at gatherings such as this.

So every summer, we'd pack up a covered dish and dessert, paper plates and utensils, and drove the hour or so from the farm to Timken. We also brought our bats and baseball gloves, because there would be numerous other kids of all sorts of ages. Some would play volleyball, others would play a pick-up game of softball or "500" -some folks called it "Flies and Grounders." If you caught a fly ball, it was worth 100 points, and grounders were worth 50. If you booted a grounder or dropped a fly ball, those points were deducted from your score. Whoever reached 500 then got to go up and bat.

We'd play until the grown-ups told us it was time to eat, and then we'd herd - hot, tired, and dusty - over to the brick, open-air shelter house where a large potluck supper was waiting for us.

And then we'd eat. And eat. And eat. Burgers. Hot dogs. Green bean casseroles. Baked beans. Scalloped potatoes. Salads. Jello fruit salad. Cakes. Pies. Brownies. Cookies. I'm sure there were several Czech pastries there, too, because no K-D picnic seemed complete without them. There would be large washtubs filled with water, blocks of ice, and bottles of soda pop. Those tubs were my most vivid memory of the earliest picnics I can remember, because I'd never seen so much pop in one place that was free! And Mom and Dad didn't mind if we had a second (though I remember still being self-conscious about wanting more than one, if I was still thirsty).

There was usually a chilled keg nearby, too. As night would fall, the older men and women would start telling stories or talking about that summer's crops. An accordion or three would surface, and they'd begin playing and singing songs in Bohemian. I'd watch Grandpa Pechanec play, marveling that he could get that many notes and that much sound out of that squeezable box. I often fell asleep to the sound of that singing. More than once I remember waking up in the car on the drive home.

Just as the county fair was a chance to say "hi" to 4-H friends, the K-D picnic was a chance to see cousins who lived in other parts of the state. And, like the 4-H fair, it usually was a highlight of the summer.

Those picnics are just memories now, as the dinner on "The Hill" reminded me. But they're a precious childhood memory, and it would be wonderful for future generations of children if some day they could be revived again.