Memories of Boyhood Summers

As a young boy,
I lived for summers – those
glorious, hot months when
school was out, when
I could sleep late, then
play outside all day.

Back then, I didn’t mind the
heat. Instead, I embraced it,
spending my day sans
shirt and shoes, barefoot
and happy, tanned a golden
bronze from head to toes,
except for the hideously white
area covered by my shorts.

Our house in Macon had
a dirt backyard, shaded by
a towering chinaberry tree.
Three neighboring boys my
age were my constant
companions in fun. We
played whiffleball baseball
for hours on end, raced
our bikes up and down
the block, and looked for
the odd mischief to engage in.

Several times a week,
one of the mothers would
drive us to the public
swimming pool for the
afternoon. And then there
were those watermelon or
ice cream treats to cool off
those afternoons’ nineties
degree Georgia heat.

At day’s end, I ‘d have to
submit to a pre-supper bath
to wash away the day’s
sticky sweat and layer of
backyard dirt. Nightly I wore
a dirt necklace in the creases
of my neck. My summertime
hair cut was a crewcut for its
practicality and convenience
of washing. You could measure
the fun I had had by the amount
of dirt going down the drain
in the bathwater nightly.

Those were happy, carefree
times that all too quickly I
outgrew, my attention turning
to cars, girls, and earning
spending money instead.
Now I see those wonderful
childhood summers reborn
once more in my grandchildren.
I can only hope they enjoy
living them as much as I did.