Not Summer 'Til When?
by Sam Crenshaw
God created June, July, and August for the children to enjoy. When the last bell rang at the end of May, our feet suddenly became bare as we ran from the building, and other than Sunday School and Church during the summer, our feet were not encumbered with shoes.
The asphalt roads were hot and rough, which helped to toughen the soles of our feet. It became difficult, to nearly impossible, for glass, nails or sand spurs to penetrate them. Our shirts were tossed aside, resulting in tans, our tousled hair became involuntarily sun-bleached, and our feet enjoyed the experience that one can only get from toes feeling the hot sand and soil pushing upward between them.
Creeks were fair game for swimming and fishing. Pick-up baseball games happened as quickly as someone suggested with a loud cry, "Let’s play some ball!" Baseball covers had been knocked off, but still served us well, as long as the string did not unravel. Bats that had been broken were repaired with a hammer, a few nails, and reinforced with some strong tape. Watermelons, cantaloupes, and peaches seemed to be in abundance for our enjoyment. Home-made ice cream sometimes was hand-churned on Sunday afternoon.
June Bugs, a beautiful metallic green insect about the size of one’s thumb were fair game for a toy. They were slow moving critters, when they landed, and fairly easy to catch. One only needed some thread
from Mother’s sewing machine to attach to one leg of the bug, and then presto, he would provide plenty of entertainment by flying round and round. After we tired of this toy, it was the proper thing to send him back to his freedom.
Home-made kites were lots of fun when the wind provided enough impetus to keep it aloft. I close my eyes now, and I can still see the message—a piece of paper with the string going through the hole in the center—working its way
upward on the string toward the kite. Tails strung downward from the kites, several feet long and in a variety of colors knotted together in strips of 6 to 12 inches each. Lightweight sticks, old newspaper from the Macon News, and a small amount of homemade glue made wonderful kites. Rolls of string could be found in the trash at the cotton mill.
Seems strange now that we never used to ask what the temperature was. Our biggest concern seemed to be, not how hot the weather would be, but rather whether we could find some tadpoles in a ditch, hopefully trapped by some rainwater. Occasionally, the men from the city water department came out to test the fire hydrants, and that was an open invitation to enjoy an impromptu treat as the water poured from the hydrant in a great stream. Shrieks of delight came from all the boys and girls who enjoyed the wonderful experience.
Let’s see now, how long before summer?
© 2005 Sam Crenshaw
contact Sam at sam@samcrenshaw.com
If you enjoyed this story, you may want to read Duck on the Rock or A Time of Innocence
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