...did you do stuff like this? I found out Steve
didn't know what I was talking about when I referred to eating Bugles off of my fingers. I just thought ALL kids did this...which threw me back to the
Summers of the 70's to warmly recall all the dumb stuff I did to have fun.
I was an only child, so solo activities that kept me out of my mom's hair were at the top of the list. The neighbors around us were grandparent age, and they would all nod
alot as I chatted non-stop without being shooed away. I remember riding my bike up/down the sidewalk, being
bumpered by two alleys to hear the sorrowful sounds of bagpipes being played in the attic of our Scottish neighbor.
I would hold self narrated fashion shows creating many-an-outfit using nothing but an over- sized beach towel. It was yellow with two navy blue stripes.
I would get "pretend married", using mom's plastic vase flowers and wearing a doily on my head.
I would pick dandelions and these purple flowers to make bouquets for my mom. She would get out the tiny
tupperware vase (bottom of a salt shaker) and give them special display honors on her kitchen window shelf.
No one had their "lawns treated". They were just
yards back then...and full of clover. Bumble bees love clover, you know. So at least twice a summer I would come screaming, hopping on one foot, for Mom to get the stinger out.
Maybe I should have had shoes on, to match that beach towel. I laugh trying to imagine how much it must have sucked to perform stinger extraction, from a crying child who kicked
everytime her impaled stump was touched. But our medicine cabinet had a magical potion in a tiny brown bottle, called
merchurochrome. It was a reddish liquid and it burned like a
mutha! I would beg, through my tears, "Blow! Blow!". There must be something in "mom breath" that takes the pain away. Then she would make it even better by adding a little more of red liquid to draw a cat. No
bandaids - I
don't think we ever had
bandaids.
Its funny what you remember. I
don't remember it being oppressively hot, or cold. I
don't remember it raining and ruining my day. When I was younger, it was a treat to set up the sprinkler and run around trying to avoid the cold water I begged to have turned on. We had a big garden. I remember standing in the middle of that garden with mom eating ripe tomatoes right off the vine, like they were apples. Mom would make jarred tomato juice for homemade soup/chili in the winter, and it was my job to listen for all the canning lids to "pop" (caused by the vacuum sealing). We
didn't have
air conditioning, either, but there was a giant blue box fan that would keep us cool. I remember sitting close in front of it and singing, or talking, because of how funny it made my voice sound. Did anyone else do that?
My first "real" bike was my ticket to freedom! It was turquoise, with a brightly flowered banana seat, and big chopper-style handlebars.
***I cant believe I found a picture of the seat***
I remember washing AND waxing it sometimes in the driveway. I can still feel that little bit of excitement seeing my dad taking it out onto the driveway for the first time. I could now ride my bike to the corner carry-out and up to the schoolyard to swing. At some point I got a humongous metal basket that could haul a serious amount of stuff! I came home crying one day after a tumble, and remember explaining my tears
weren't so much for my injuries (cured with the same means as the bee sting), but because my huge basket was full of apples I was bringing home as a "gift", so she could make a pie! I
don't remember a pie, but I do remember Mom walking back down the street to help me pick up the lost apples.
We
didn't have a dog, but I was always tagging along with our neighbor when he walked their dog, Sam. Sam was a basset hound, that seemed as big as a station wagon. I would always plead to be allowed to hold the leash. Our neighbor kindly denied me, since he seemed to have enough sense not to allow me to walk a dog that outweighed me. But.....one time....I must have batted my big brown eyes at him, with the begging, and he turned the leash over to me.
Afterall, what could really happen?
Weeeel, big lazy Sam had a rabbit run in front of him, and he took off like a shot! You know how they tell you when you're
water skiing to let go of the rope when you fall? Yeah, the same theory applies when that dog goes dragging you along behind him down the street. I have no memory of EVER walking Sam again...and I am pretty sure my wounds were healed with mercurachrome, mom's breath, and an iodine stained cat image.
Summer is here. What kind of memories make YOU smile?
...and someone get my mom a tissue 'cause I am sure she is crying.
