Here Comes the Lunch Truck: Kelli’s perspective

Growing up at our house in Blackstone during summer vacation was great. We didn't have any friends who lived close by, but we had better. There were five siblings in the house. Lots of opportunity for fun.

We had a huge yard and a pool.

We had a barn in the back yard. In the main room of the barn was a couch. We could hang out there, play house (for me and my stepsister) and jump off the roof. Riding bikes off the roof was fun for my brother, but not for me.

If we got bored with that, we could go inside and play Atari or watch television.

If that bored us and we were hungry we could go in our own back yard and pick blackberries or go to my grandfather’s house next door and pick apples, pears, or grapes. We even had rhubarb.

With all those activities at home, my parents thought it would be a good idea to send my siblings and me to Cold Spring Park in Woonsocket, RI for the day. This was odd for a few reasons.

First, we had a lot to do at home.

Second, we did not live in Woonsocket, nor did we live in Rhode Island.

Mom would drop us all off in the morning and leave us there all day. There was an arts and crafts station where we would make necklaces and paint rocks.

There was no swimming, which we could have done at home, and fruit picking was also not an option. People pay to go fruit picking and we could have done it at home for free.

Instead we spent our summer at Cold Spring Park.

We were bored. Very bored. We waited for the lunch truck to come because we knew when we saw it, two good things would happen.

First, we could eat. For free.

Second, we were half way through the day before we could go home.

We watched for the truck. When we saw it we all yelled, “Here comes the lunch truck!” We got a menial lunch: bologna sandwich, an apple and a carton of white milk.

Once they left we just watched for our parents to come and finally get us.

Looking back now, as an adult, I know that the park lunch program was for under privileged families.

We were far from underprivileged. We were far from poor. I can't help but wonder: Why were we there?

PS: I entered the Little Miss Cold Spring Park pageant and was the first runner up. I didn't make the paper like the winner did, but I was still the coolest girl on the planet, so I thought.