Summer memories

 Summers meant endless adventures. Some with the family, but most dear to me were the sweltering days of August when the air hung heavy, and rain showers brought momentary relief to my buddies and me. A typical summer day began with a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and a few words from Mom about being careful and making sure to be home in time for dinner. Outside the screen door, my friends' shouts called for me to hurry it up as baseball cards of no value were attached to our bicycle spokes,with wooden closepins that made our bikes sound like my next-door neighbor's Harley.

Unlike today, when water bottles didn't exist, we had canteens bought at the Army-Navy store downtown. We filled them up and strapped them to our bikes with some discarded jump rope and baling twine found alongside the road. We rarely had a plan; we just followed whoever was in the lead, sometimes taking us into town, where we'd stop for some penny candy and look at comic books until the clerk told us to buy or get out.

Other times, we'd ride to the swimming hole where kids gathered all summer, swimming in the cool waters of a deep spring and taking turns swinging from a rope that someone had put there a long time ago. It had to be ancient, as my dad told me he swung on that rope when he was my age. When our bellies growled, it was time for some lunch, and we came prepared with PBJ sandwiches and the penny candy we bought earlier.

Leaving the swimming hole, we headed for the mountain, a place where, over the years, the city had piled up a massive hill of dirt that came from clearing the land of new subdivisions being built everywhere you looked. We had to walk our bikes up the hill as it was too steep to ride. Once on top, you could see the entire town and even the steeple of St. Mark's church in the next town over.

One by one, we pushed off and began our descent downhill at speeds we wondered were world records. One thing was certain: there was nothing to slow us down except a bunch of cardboard we had stacked up before walking to the top, hoping that if we did wipe out, the cardboard would slow us down I'm here to tell you it did not.

We could always tell when our day was coming to a close as we headed home, tired and sweat-stained, with empty canteens and sun-kissed arms and legs. One by one, we headed toward our houses, where a waiting mom barked instructions to take off our clothes and get into the bathtub, and, for goodness' sake, leave those filthy sneakers at the back door.

Summers meant freedom from school, hours spent swimming, and roaring down a mountain of dirt on our trusty steeds. It meant a lot of PBJs and a quarter's worth of penny candies. But most of all, it meant spending time with your buddies and the memories you made that have lasted a lifetime.

Mike 2026