Summertime, and the livin’ was easy

Half-dressed and soaking wet, I’d pedal with bare feet from one end of the neighborhood to the other. My eyes would burn from the pool’s chlorine, but I’d manage to see by the light of the oncoming dusk.

Once I hit the main road I was careful to stay on the sidewalks. Tiny, fly-away strands of hair always managed to somehow free themselves from the clump that lay thick and wet against my back, and rise up to tickle my face. It was summer and sunset and I pedaled my Schwinn Stingray with maniacal speed and intensity in order to make it back to the house by curfew.

Sunset was always curfew.

Our days began early, right after breakfast, and we played hard until sundown. If I wasn’t in the pool, I was on my way somewhere on my bike. We built ramps out of old plywood and rode our bikes like Evil Knievel, seeing how far we could jump or skid or ride with no hands. I never did master the wheelie.

Bike helmets didn’t exist

My days were otherwise spent navigating a series of events: Swimming in our backyard; playing in my best friend’s tree fort; playing HORSE or four square or two square or catch; jumping rope; building go carts, tearing them apart and starting afresh; more swimming; then back to my friends house for Barbies; and eventually I’d find my way back home again by sunset.

Watching TV only happened at night.

Food consisted of crabapples from the neighbor’s yard and water from the garden hose, and with luck, something from the ice cream truck. We were never too fussed about food. It was just fuel. I’d show up in my standard outfit –a pair of Dolphin shorts, flip flops and some kind of tank or swim top—just in time for a tuna sandwich on white bread then head back out toward the grand adventure. And I was always dirt-stained by day’s end.

Days would slide together, and I’d lose sense of the passage of time. Any day in the past was “the other day,” even if that other day happened a month prior. Ridiculously, by mid-August, I’d be looking forward to the start of school.

I would grow bored and before long would begin to grouse. My mother’s solution was always along the lines of, “If you’re bored, go clean your room” or “pull some weeds,” or any other number of horrible, terrible chores. I very quickly learned to be careful about my grousing.

Still, at these times my mother would be sure to say, “Enjoy it now, because you won’t always have summers like this.” It was a stab to the heart to me, even way back then, mired though I was in boredom. Because every child harbors a secret truth– and that is knowing that “Mom is always right.”

I may not have appreciated them fully back then, but now? I really miss those easy summer days.