Derby Day

I have never followed horse racing. I don't fully understand the breeding, odds-setting, or sponsoring of the horses, and I find the tiny jockeys a little strange. But I have an appreciation for the Kentucky Derby, thanks to some very special neighbors.

When I was growing up, my down-the-street neighbors, Betsy and Harold, had a Derby Day Breakfast every year. They would serve mock juleps, mint juleps, eggs, bacon, and the most fantastic cinnamon rolls I'd ever tasted. They'd invite all of their friends, so people from their church, families from around the neighborhood, and people I'd never met before would gather and mingle in their dining room and living room, talking, and occasionally glimpsing at the race coverage on TV. I don't know how the timing worked out, but it was also always the day of a big high school track meet across the street, so we'd hear the race results from there echoing through the room as well. It was always a fun time of conversation and catching up with people we hadn't seen in a long time.

I looked forward to it every spring, not because of the race, but because of the party. Even though I was young, I always felt fully included in the event. Harold would make sure that I ended up with a mock julep instead of a fully-loaded mint julep, and I felt very grown up with my fancy drink in a crystal glass, talking with grown-ups.

Today I miss Betsy and Harold. I miss the way their love and acceptance made me feel so special and cared for, as though I were a part of their family, too. And I imagine that my orange juice is a mock julep as I lift the glass in honor of their memory: to Betsy and Harold and Derby Day.