Memories of Summertime

The windows were open each night. We had an attic fan and cool air blew across my bed every night regardless of how hot the day had been. An occasional hard, brown beetle would hit the screen and make a racket crawling up it.

The neighborhood congregated in our yard after dark. A "ghost" hid somewhere around the house. We counted "one 'oclock, 2 o'clock...midnight! Moonlight, starlight, hope to see the ghost tonight!" The object was to run around the house without the ghost, jumping out of the bushes and catching you! It was dark, scary and great fun.

We used an ice pick to poke holes in the top of a fruit jar and filled it with grass. We put the captured lightening bugs in the jar and kept it in our bedroom. They would provide a short display of light. Despite our efforts, each morning they were dead.

This was another night game. There were two teams. One got a head start and tried to lead the other team on a wild goose chase by marking directions on the street with chalk. The left-behind team was supposed to catch up and tag the first team. The most memorable chalkwalk was when my brother was running across a yard and was almost decapitated by a clothesline.

Along with the cool night breeze in the window, the summer provided a nightly chorus of cicadas, crickets, katydids. It was a ruckus, really. I can hear them now...only they are very faint behind the closed windows of our air conditioned house. I miss them.

We captured June bugs and horseflies....Horseflies were the best....and tied a thread around its neck. When we released them, they flew away, only to discover they were now on the end of a very long leash.

Even the girls had a pocket knife. This was played by flipping the knife off the elbows, knees, forehead and nose. It had to stick in the ground before you could move to the next location. The first one to finish drove a small stick into the ground (a peg) and the loser had to pull it out with their teeth. Only the boys would actually follow through with the losing requirements.

In June, the grass was soft and cool. By July, it was prickly, and the sidewalks and roads could fry an egg. But, by then our feet were so tough, it didn't bother us. I even went downtown barefoot, much to the dispproval of my grandmother. None of the stores or resturaunts had "no shirt no shoes no service" signs.

The highway to my grandmothers was two lane, curvy and with a curb. No seatbelts, no airconditioning. We kids sat in the back of our station wagon that had naugahyde (leather of the 1960s) seats. We drew lines. We stuck to the seats. The hot air blew on us for two hours. By the time, we got there we were sweaty, greasy and felt like there were bugs crawling all over us.

We didn't go to camps. We didn't have lessons. We went to stores only for specific reasons. We ate out on Tuesdays. (Griffs in Springfield had 5 hamburgers for a dollar). We were allowed three TV shows at night. I remember sleeping late and feeling like the summer went on forever. But never long enough.