I live in shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers during the summer months, that is when I’m not diving into the ocean or a pool somewhere. I enjoy being able to read what I want (as opposed to the books or reports and documents that are necessary in my other life as an educator), sleep late, and spend time with my wife and daughter doing “fun” things. I can sneak some writing in during these times too (my three published books were all completed during the summer when I had the time to put finishing touches on them).
There is the opportunity to travel, whether it is a long voyage across the globe or a jaunt to the end of Long Island. There are long days available for seemingly endless games of baseball, Frisbee tossing, or interminable volleyball matches between all the assorted family members assembled for barbecues in backyards. There is the wonderfully fecund scent of the grill sending good smoke into the sky, the sizzle of the hot dogs and hamburgers, the sweet chill of the glass of lemonade in one‘s hand, the buzz of the insects being sucked into the blue light of the zapper hanging on the porch, and the soothing sounds of crickets chirping the night away.
All the wonderful fleeting moments coalesce and touch memories for those of us old enough to recall many summers past. Having lost my mother and aunt last year, I remember many happy summers in our beach house at Breezy Point (New York). After Mom was done hanging out clothes on the line (my shirts never smelled better), she and Aunt Margie sat on the porch telling stories while the mosquitoes tried to attack, and I had the feeling that the calendar was forever stuck on July and I was free for an “Endless Summer” as promised by the Beach Boys album. Every time I hear their song “Surfer Girl” I get a bit choked up as I recall those happy boyhood days.
Of course, the younger people reading this may only have a few summers to remember, but no matter, I am sure they represent the same thing in a different way. There is a feeling of relaxation that permeates the mind and body, a sense that all the things that matter really don’t anymore (even if they will again in September). Summer is a recurring honeymoon, a bon voyage that is always rather “bon” by nature, the express train to Candy Land, Oz, and Disney with no return trip needed. Kids run wild and free in the sunshine, a blur of tanned limbs and bobbing heads as they rush up a hillside, across a beach, or through a forest.
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