Days of Summer, 1964

All the boys behaved when moms were out in the front yard; moms weren't a terrifying presence, we just respected their authority. That authority was a safe thing, and gave me a feeling of protection even when I was too young to comprehend, or appreciate it. Those summer days were endless, beautiful and free. It seemed the entire world lived outside when the thermometer stripe began climbing toward the high 90s. Parked on the street was my oldest brother's car. He often traded up vehicles, but all of them were great.

Inside the sun heated the dashboard, and I smelled hot plastic and spent cigarette butts from a heaping ashtray. The feel of the scorching seats were all a part of the joys riding around in summer. The sound of gears grinding betrayed the vehicle’s age, but that car was gutsy and bold. With a fighter jet rumble, it idled a bit, then merged onto the road with a sure ease. Summers were full of heat, long days and promises. From a tall grassy and untended field of blackberry bushes, low-hanging branches of towering trees threw deep and magnificent shadows. These canopies of verdant darkness were hiding places; they were shaded sanctuaries where plans were drawn and conversations happened over an open bag of Sugar Babies.

Whenever a slight breeze sailed across my bare shoulders, I was made all over again in a noble world where bees buzzed and gentle clouds drifted across the blue. Climbing one of those trees was where I surveyed my world from a loftier perch than my skinny legs provided. Wiping sweat and slapping bugs seemed more reflex than relief. The air was clean and fresh, and my nostrils sampled freshly mown yards and summer lilac along with random honeysuckle. Vagrant breezes cooled recent sweat from the sun that baked my skin, and outside was the only place to be. The poetry of it all, the brilliance of each perspective from my young eyes was far beyond words. There was life and excitement in summer! Outdoor potpourri, lying in the grass, a cold sizzle of coke and summer games were all day-to-day occurrences.