And to taste your tender charms...



Spoonfuls of Summer - 2013

Every time I get a few days away with the kids, I am reminded about about my family's summer vacations when I was young.

Or lack thereof.

We didn't take any trips to the lake, the mountains or the shore -- I didn't see the ocean until I was 18 even though I grew up about 4 hours from the beach. No water parks, no pay-one-price amusement parks, no fancy trips to Europe or the Caribbean, nothing more than weekend day trips to see grandparents, who lived 50 miles away. On a very rare occasion (three times that I can remember), we went to Yankee Stadium for a baseball game.

Not that I am complaining, just points of comparison.

Our summers consisted of Bible School, baseball (both playing and endlessly poring over box scores), riding bikes and exploring the neighborhood from morning 'til night. After supper, my dad would often come out back and play catch. If I was lucky, we would drive over to Forty Fort Dairy for a chocolate chip ice cream cone.

No one we knew had a pool, not even an above ground kiddie pool. Some of the neighbors would travel to Sandy Beach (yes, that was the real name) at Harvey's Lake regularly. I distinctly remember one time tagging along and the beach being so crowded that we couldn't get near the water.

Summer also meant grilling hot dogs and hamburgers, with the exotic experience of eating on our screened-in porch, accompanied by my brother's transistor radio, invariably tuned to WARM - the Mighty 590.

Our house didn't have air conditioning to provide relief for the week or so of unbearable hot and humid weather we would have each summer. The box fan in the landing part way up the stairs seemed to do the trick, or at least I can't remember ever not being able to sleep due to the heat.

I never saw my parents in shorts, sandals, swim suits or any other summer gear. When my dad mowed the lawn (with a push reel mower), he took his regular shirt off, leaving just his undershirt, the traditional wife beater. He rolled up his cuffed pants and put on his work shoes, which ironically just looked like his going-to-work shoes, just a little more worn. My mom always wore a dress, never pants, never a skirt, even to work around the house.

Some may accuse my family of being "unsophisticated." That is true, we weren't sophisticated. Just happy.

My summers were not better or worse than the ones my kids have, in case I am accused of wearing rose-colored glassed infused with nostalgia. I am just documenting a time and place long ago and far away.

And getting further away every day.