Summertime Ends By Linda Stowe
It’s mid-August. When I was a kid, this was about the time of year when I started getting a bit panicky. I had lolled the summer away doing who knows what and now the school year was breathing down my neck. My new school clothes had probably arrived courtesy of the Alden catalog. Soon we would be going into town to get school supplies at Webb’s Five and Dime store. When we got to the store, we would find lists of supplies for each grade typed out on papers covered by slick sheet protectors and hung on posts near the school supply area. When it came to our education, our mom did not skimp so we would return home with every marker and protractor that we were asked to get.
Once the school preparations were made, all we had to do was wait for the first day of school. That’s when I felt the pressure to make the most of the time I had left, before that yellow bus carried me off to whatever the new school year held in store. So, by mid-August my brother and I milled around like anxious last-minute shoppers on Christmas eve. What had we left undone?
As soon as we ate breakfast, we were out the door running here and there as long as the sun would shine. Invariably we would make our way over to our grandparents’ fishing lake, a place we were not allowed to visit without adult supervision. Usually, we only got as far as the little island located nearest to our farm. The water there was marshy, so the worst thing that ever happened was that we came home covered in mud and stickers. One time we got as far as the boat dock, where Grandpa had left a rowboat (he always called it a skiff). Usually, he kept the boat’s oars in his garage, but on this day they were in the boat.
Grandpa had taken us out in the boat many times and had even let us row a couple of times. We knew what to do. And we were doing quite well until my brother took one of the oars out of its lock and was so surprised he dropped it into the water. Fortunately, it floated but we were not adept enough to retrieve the oar and return the boat before we were caught. Grandpa heard our calls for help and dragged a second rowboat down to the lake so he could come out and get us.
I don’t recall that we had any of Grandma’s cookies before being sent home. But at least we had something to write about for the traditional “What did you do on your summer vacation?” essay.
~~~~~~~
Polly here.
What a wonderful story about childhood. So beautifully written.
I wonder what I would be like today if I had been born and raised in a country setting. Nonetheless, I was a city kid.
I had different kinds of adventures in the city, like climbing light poles and walking through the alleys looking for “pop” bottles to get money to buy candy. Playing stickball in the middle of the street, and everyone yelling “Car!” when a vehicle was approaching.
Nonetheless, it conjured many reflections from the sweet long ago. We live. We start out so fresh and new with nothing but wonder in our minds. And before we know it, we have volumes of memories through the many decades that have passed.
All of us.
Yes. The glimpses back in time.
All of us.
