Ah, Summer | Lisa says | DONNE TEMPO
Ah, Summer
July/11/08 12:18 AM Filed in: Lisa says
Like other people of my generation, I lament the
passing of the summers I had as a child. The
unstructured days of wading through creeks and
running through neighborhoods, unadorned by
adults, unaccountable, free. We played kickball
and tag and games with loose rules involving
"getting the guy with the ball." We rode bikes
for miles, from house to house, collecting
friends for various adventures, rarely planned,
never scheduled. We skinner our knees and rolled
down hills and chased each other up, down,
around. At the pool, we jumped off the diving
boards and swam until the life guards called
break, then sat on the edge swinging our feet in
the water waiting for the terminal "adult only
swim" to end. We rode our bikes home at the end
of the day, our toes pruney and our skin brown.
We ate the sweetest watermelon I've ever tasted, probably because we only ate it in the summer, and clamored when the ice cream man came through the neighborhood ringing his bell. We ate peanut butter and jelly or tomato sandwiches, and had never heard of a chicken finger.
We didn't see an adult, or a tv, and certainly not a video game, the entire day, never asked our parents to take us anywhere, never considered the need for anything that plugged in or turned on. We ran and rode and played, our hair flying behind us loose, our faces dirty and sweaty and tanned. No one ever smeared us with suntan lotion or gave us a cell phone. No one told us to check in or to come home for anything but dinner.
Late afternoons, or early evenings, were for séances on back porches or, later, for truth or dare. At night we collecting lightning bugs in glass jars and danced in our back yards and looked at the constellations, which shone brightly in the night sky, hoping to see a shooting star.
Mostly, I remember laughing. Smiling.
At bedtime, we slept as soon as our heads hit the pillow, content and worn out, dreaming of the hot, happy, voluptuous day ahead.
I look at my son and feel a little sad that he will never experience the kind of freedom we had as kids. He has play dates – which for us would have meant a pretend date – and he goes to camp – highly organized activities where counselors assure parents there is no unsupervised time – and plays sports on sports teams. He will never wake up in the morning, grab a bat and a ball and run out the door yelling, "I'll be home by 6 for dinner" or take a languid walk to the corner to meet up with friends before heading to the woods to climb trees for a few hours. I panic when he's in the men's room alone for more than 5 minutes (to the point that I stand at the door and start calling him).
True, he's happy, and his life is good. But I wish for him one evening of fireflies and freedom, of hand-churned home made ice cream and fresh sweet corn, of running through woods and playing in streams, without a hovering parent or a scheduled return time, and without once wondering what is on tv.
…I know, the world is different now. But a girl can dream, can't she?
We ate the sweetest watermelon I've ever tasted, probably because we only ate it in the summer, and clamored when the ice cream man came through the neighborhood ringing his bell. We ate peanut butter and jelly or tomato sandwiches, and had never heard of a chicken finger.
We didn't see an adult, or a tv, and certainly not a video game, the entire day, never asked our parents to take us anywhere, never considered the need for anything that plugged in or turned on. We ran and rode and played, our hair flying behind us loose, our faces dirty and sweaty and tanned. No one ever smeared us with suntan lotion or gave us a cell phone. No one told us to check in or to come home for anything but dinner.
Late afternoons, or early evenings, were for séances on back porches or, later, for truth or dare. At night we collecting lightning bugs in glass jars and danced in our back yards and looked at the constellations, which shone brightly in the night sky, hoping to see a shooting star.
Mostly, I remember laughing. Smiling.
At bedtime, we slept as soon as our heads hit the pillow, content and worn out, dreaming of the hot, happy, voluptuous day ahead.
I look at my son and feel a little sad that he will never experience the kind of freedom we had as kids. He has play dates – which for us would have meant a pretend date – and he goes to camp – highly organized activities where counselors assure parents there is no unsupervised time – and plays sports on sports teams. He will never wake up in the morning, grab a bat and a ball and run out the door yelling, "I'll be home by 6 for dinner" or take a languid walk to the corner to meet up with friends before heading to the woods to climb trees for a few hours. I panic when he's in the men's room alone for more than 5 minutes (to the point that I stand at the door and start calling him).
True, he's happy, and his life is good. But I wish for him one evening of fireflies and freedom, of hand-churned home made ice cream and fresh sweet corn, of running through woods and playing in streams, without a hovering parent or a scheduled return time, and without once wondering what is on tv.
…I know, the world is different now. But a girl can dream, can't she?
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