An ode to the summers of my childhood.
I grew up in a very small town that boasted between 800-900 people during the time I was in residence. Summer was hot. I can still hear, and feel my feet slapping against the hot pavement as I ran. I would never wear socks or shoes if I could help it. They were too hot and confining.
I lived in the center of town, on the corner of Main Street and Center. On the other corners were two grocery stores and the house of the people who owned the Frosty Shop across the street. The Frosty Shop was only open during the summers. I remember the night before it would open, we would be invited over to sample the first ice cream of the season. Summer had truly begun when that happened.
My Paternal Grandparents lived 3 blocks up the street. Summers were often filled with cousins visiting with hijinks on the front lawn, fishing trips, picnics, and dips in the creek, daring each other to do things.
I spent much of my summers playing all over town. This was well before the advent of cell phones. My parents might have a general idea of where I started out going, but by the time I needed to come home, I had often been everywhere. I don’t recall my parents ever worrying about where I was (perhaps occasionally what I was doing?) I wasn’t alone in this. This is how we spent summers as kids in the small town where I grew up.
We would buy a pack of candy at the grocery store, or even better an entire bag of penny candy.
Whatever happened to penny candy?
It was the best! As long as you had a penny you could buy candy. In that same store, there were 3 old stools in front of the checkout counter where the local men would hang out and swap stories about what was going on. Occasionally they would add a couple more pennies to your collection for your penny candy. It was unique.
In our backyard, we had a huge building we called “The Hall”. At one point it had been a dance hall for the town, and then a rollerskating rink. By the time I came along, it was just a place to store things, and in the back, my father had a shop where he would tinker and make things. The Hall was the best place to be during the summer months because it was dark and cool. My family owned a small motel, and when they would replace beds, often the old bed would be placed out in The Hall and they became our “trampolines” because our parents would never buy us one as they didn’t really think they were safe. Many an hour were passed jumping on old box springs and mattresses.
Evenings were really hot in our large upstairs bedroom that I shared with a minimum of 3 other siblings at a time. We had windows at either end of the room but no air conditioning. Instead, box fans would be placed in the windows to aid circulation and we occupied ourselves on those sleepless hot nights by talking and making noises in the fans, reading, and singing.
In some ways, it was an idyllic way to grow up. I’ve been away from there, and enough time has passed that I can look back at it with fondness, because it wasn’t perfect, and there was much heartache. This was the good part of growing up there, and that’s what I’ll take with me.
