Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Summer
What happened?
I remember when summer was the season to look forward to…
We were young.
Calendars were actual, tangible objects.
They hung on our wall…Not programs on our computers.
Every day had an X marked through it,
We marked through the date with conviction, as we anticipated that magical day in June when we could pronounce…Free at last.
We baked in the sun with baby oil.
Tan “Lines” were not cool.
We used seashells to cover our nipples; little ones, medium and large ones…
Being small breasted was not a phenomenon.
Our food wasn’t loaded with hormones
Summers arrival was like being released from a penitentiary. Free from the shackles. Free from the regiment of schedules based on the clock.
We swam in the ocean, and snuck into hotel pools.
Surf boards were loaded on roof racks on top of our cars.
We played tennis, racquetball, handball.… we actually spent the days outdoors.
Rock concerts were relatively peaceful events…there wasn’t a body count.
We cruised A1A proudly in our VW bugs and got so high we swore if we kicked out the floor board of our VW Beetle we could actually get it air borne by propelling it with our feet. Like the children’s movie “Chitty Chitty bang bang,” This thing can fly…so could we”
Free love reigned. We made love with wild abandon….“Ignorance” back then was bliss. STD'a were usually treatable... not fatal.
We did drugs….but they were pure, unlaced … home grown weed that even my father watered in his daily routine, not knowing what it was. We tripped on organic mushrooms…
No one ever heard of a date rape drug.
We did shots of Tequila…not froo froo drinks and shooters with names like “week at the beach”.
A “week at the beach” was actually an event, not a cocktail.
We drank beer even when it had turned warm. Frosty mugs were not required.
If we didn’t have a ride someplace, we actually hitch hiked and it was relatively safe. Sure we had our casualties…and there were the random acts of horrific, violent, crimes, but they didn’t seem as prevalent.
The media didn’t turn the psychopath into an icon, or devote hours to them on a Biography channel that would replay their heinous crime for the rest of eternity, in the name of “entertainment”.
Now I am in my fifties.
Summer holds no enthusiasm for me.
The sun is too hot. ….the humidity suffocating.
All those years of tanning with baby oil and “no tan lines” has resulted in days at the dermatologist.
Going outside means…putting on long sleeves, long pants, socks with the pant bottoms tucked into them….a hat, gloves, and spraying oneself with enough DEET, that if by chance you die while outside working…they could hang you in a corner as a no pest strip.
Mosquitoes fly in formation and attack the minute your body emerges from the house. They manage to find the one inch of skin that somehow has been left exposed.
Pools and beaches are loaded with kids…screaming and tormenting each other. Parents are oblivious to the decimal level… if they are there at all.
The once smooth neck, that was seductive and enticing….well, at last glance with a magnifying mirror, looks as if I branded myself with a waffle iron.
The golden streaks in my hair have been replaced with permanent dye to camouflage the grey.
I wouldn’t consider picking up a hitchhiker. They all look like one of “Americas Most Wanted”.
I drive a van that I can easily slide my Kayak into without the risk of throwing my back out.
I still have a calendar on my wall with big X’s... marking off each day until September 21st when I write, with conviction …Free at last
Give me Fall.
Summer is for youth
What happened?
I remember when summer was the season to look forward to…
We were young.
Calendars were actual, tangible objects.
They hung on our wall…Not programs on our computers.
Every day had an X marked through it,
We marked through the date with conviction, as we anticipated that magical day in June when we could pronounce…Free at last.
We baked in the sun with baby oil.
Tan “Lines” were not cool.
We used seashells to cover our nipples; little ones, medium and large ones…
Being small breasted was not a phenomenon.
Our food wasn’t loaded with hormones
Summers arrival was like being released from a penitentiary. Free from the shackles. Free from the regiment of schedules based on the clock.
We swam in the ocean, and snuck into hotel pools.
Surf boards were loaded on roof racks on top of our cars.
We played tennis, racquetball, handball.… we actually spent the days outdoors.
Rock concerts were relatively peaceful events…there wasn’t a body count.
We cruised A1A proudly in our VW bugs and got so high we swore if we kicked out the floor board of our VW Beetle we could actually get it air borne by propelling it with our feet. Like the children’s movie “Chitty Chitty bang bang,” This thing can fly…so could we”
Free love reigned. We made love with wild abandon….“Ignorance” back then was bliss. STD'a were usually treatable... not fatal.
We did drugs….but they were pure, unlaced … home grown weed that even my father watered in his daily routine, not knowing what it was. We tripped on organic mushrooms…
No one ever heard of a date rape drug.
We did shots of Tequila…not froo froo drinks and shooters with names like “week at the beach”.
A “week at the beach” was actually an event, not a cocktail.
We drank beer even when it had turned warm. Frosty mugs were not required.
If we didn’t have a ride someplace, we actually hitch hiked and it was relatively safe. Sure we had our casualties…and there were the random acts of horrific, violent, crimes, but they didn’t seem as prevalent.
The media didn’t turn the psychopath into an icon, or devote hours to them on a Biography channel that would replay their heinous crime for the rest of eternity, in the name of “entertainment”.
Now I am in my fifties.
Summer holds no enthusiasm for me.
The sun is too hot. ….the humidity suffocating.
All those years of tanning with baby oil and “no tan lines” has resulted in days at the dermatologist.
Going outside means…putting on long sleeves, long pants, socks with the pant bottoms tucked into them….a hat, gloves, and spraying oneself with enough DEET, that if by chance you die while outside working…they could hang you in a corner as a no pest strip.
Mosquitoes fly in formation and attack the minute your body emerges from the house. They manage to find the one inch of skin that somehow has been left exposed.
Pools and beaches are loaded with kids…screaming and tormenting each other. Parents are oblivious to the decimal level… if they are there at all.
The once smooth neck, that was seductive and enticing….well, at last glance with a magnifying mirror, looks as if I branded myself with a waffle iron.
The golden streaks in my hair have been replaced with permanent dye to camouflage the grey.
I wouldn’t consider picking up a hitchhiker. They all look like one of “Americas Most Wanted”.
I drive a van that I can easily slide my Kayak into without the risk of throwing my back out.
I still have a calendar on my wall with big X’s... marking off each day until September 21st when I write, with conviction …Free at last
Give me Fall.
Summer is for youth
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
