Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Summer time, summer time

When I was a kid summer time meant:

  • playing outside until almost 10 at night.
  • getting sunburned.
  • swimming in pools, lakes, and one special summer, the ocean.
  • going on long car rides.
  • church camp.
  • various school related camps.
  • playing baseball with Ernie and Darrell Martin, I used to be baseball crazy.
  • staring at all the girls in bikinis at Cumberland Bowl park pool in Jonesville.
  • jukebox music.
  • watching The Gong Show, Match Game, and other game shows in the mornings during the week.
  • drinking fruit flavored soda pop.  I loved Nu Grape, Nehi Peach, and Tahitian Treat.
  •  being dragged to church.
  • riding bikes.
  • getting summer jobs and finally being able to buy my own clothes with my own money.
  • sneaking beers and Boone's Farm wine and getting tipsy.
  • eating hot dogs and after we moved south in 1974 eating those bright red hot dogs that turned the cooking water pink.
  • drinking gallons of Kool Aid.
  • milkshakes.
  • burgers with crinkle cut fries that were served in little red checkerboard paper baskets.
  • wishing I had the courage and know how to get the girls in the bikinis at the pool to make out with me.
  • cave exploring and swimming in the creek afterwards.
  • buying albums at Magic Mart and Record Bar.
  • not dreading going back to school in August, more just sad that summer was for all intents and purposes over.
  • and during my last summer as a kid, the summer I turned 17, smoking copious amounts of marijuana.  Pot was only $40 an ounce back then and it was always available from a guy named Slick who was a bootlegger/drug dealer who lived in Ben Hur.

3 comments:

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Those were the days!

kirby said...

The smell of rotting fruit in the peach orchards, which is not as unpleasant as it sounds, takes me right back to my childhood summers. We'd take long drives to see my cousins, but when I smelled those peaches I knew we had finally arrived.

Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein said...

The smell of Hawaiian Tropic suntan oil takes me back kirby. I used to dream of rubbing it on to all the hot girls in bikinis.