School is in the air. The neighborhood is quiet during the day, no one is ringing our doorbell incessantly, and morning/afternoon traffic is worse. I remember when life was dictated by summer break. We'd no sooner hear the last bell of the school year, when students would be running through the halls, chucking old paper assignments, notebooks, and other garbage all around.
I always felt bad for Mark, our elementary school janitor, whose job it was to clean up everyone's mess. I liked Mark. During recess, he always went up to the roof of the school, and tossed down balls to the children playing in the park. My favorite was when I got either a Superball or a racquetball. Whenever Mark was up there, I pretended it was raining balls. I didn't need an umbrella, just an open hand. I always felt special when I caught a ball. I thought maybe Mark was looking for me out of all of the kids in the crowd, and he aimed the prize right at me. It was our unspoken bond.
Once I got home from school, and the official summer began, my dad would pull out his hair clippers, and tell me to sit down on a chair in the kitchen. He would initiate my "summer do." It was more like a "summer crew," and it's exactly how I wear my hair today. The short cut made everyone's life much easier. I didn't have to worry about combing it all the time, and my dad didn't need to take me to the barber for at least the entire summer.
Summer breaks are everything a kid looks forward to during the school year. It's when I rode bikes with my best friends, Dean Drozak, Jerry Andrews, and Tony James. A few summers later it was Jeff Hagen, Tom Bray, and Jimbo Vanacora. Summers were when we hung out in front of the 7-11, smoked Lucky Strikes, stole cartons of Lucky Strikes, drank Slurpees, and talked about girls.
Summers were when I would lay on my front lawn and look up at the sky, making shapes with the clouds. We had no homework, very few chores, and all the time in the world. We could sleep until our eyes opened, and not have to wake up when our mothers yelled at us worse than an alarm clock.
Summers were also when we sat outside in our Court and played a never ending game of kickball. We never really kept score or cared about winning. We'd pull out the sprinklers, and run through each other's yards to cool off. We'd leave long enough to eat lunch and dinner, often asking if our friends could stay over or visa versa.
At night, we'd sit between the houses, on the lawns, and listen to the radio, singing along with every tune. We'd have an annual block party, when our parents got to relax and join the summer fun. BBQ's, beer, and volleyball; that defined a party.
Things are different now, even though we only live a mile from our childhood homes. There's work, there's chores, there's responsibilities. It's even different for the kids. They're home schooled so sometimes they miss out on some of the things Cyndi and I experienced during our childhoods. We've lived on our street for eight years, and I barely know any of my neighbors.
Nothing's better and nothing's worse; just different.
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