The first day of summer is upon us. Time for the department stores to begin displaying their fall selections. It is the time that I anticipate the ‘Ber’ months. The brilliant green of the woods is compelling.

In Eldorado, the parents encouraged their kids to go outside until the street lamps began to flicker. I enjoyed catching fireflies. Summer was the focused time to think and do all those outside activities I could not do in the cold months. There were fewer rules and sometimes none. Now would be the time to plan where to obtain firecrackers in Illinois where their sale was illegal. That made it all the more fun.

When I began at Southern Illinois University in 1978 my first boss told me that he enjoyed hot weather of the kind where the sweat rolled down his back to the crack of his ass.’ I thought too much information.

When we went to Pounds Hollow we were resigned to getting a sunburn and a tan. Tanning lotion was a hot commodity. We wanted to be as dark-skinned as possible. People lay on the hot beach for hours with the women undoing their bikini tops to have a uniform tan on their backs. I wondered what was on the other side.

Innocence was our permanent condition. Neva J lectured me to never use the Lord’s name in vain and the F word was not in our public vocabulary. Dennis W and I saw a Saturday matinee and then walked to Dairy Queen to purchase a pack of Marlborough cigarettes. We walked down the railroad tracks engaged in the mission of smoking ten Marlbourghs each in a rapid fashion.

In those early summers, I had a bicycle that looked like a motorcycle. It was 20 inches and with my long legs, it was a concerted effort to pedal. I imagined that the motor was running courtesy of the playing card fastened in the spokes. I was a unique cyclist with my bicycle/motorcycle.

Have you ever lit a Cherry Bomb? It is a firecracker on steroids. Half of the thrill was the fear of lighting it and throwing it before it ignited. Usually, our fun was limited to sparklers worms, and watching the fireworks display at the Starlit Drive Inn. We did not go to the Drive Inn we watched the show from Grandma A front porch. Safe and secure and enraptured with the light show.

Hot and hotter was our existence in our little rural home. We had no air conditioning. There was a box fan in the kitchen window and we opened our bedroom windows a few inches to facilitate the fan exhausting the hot air from our home and bringing in the cooler air through the cracked bedrooms. It was sweat city. We dreamed of a thunderstorm or a summer rain to cool the air. The sheets were wet with our suffering. We thought cool thoughts but they did not seem to help.

Pounds Hollow Lake was our savior. It was an aquatic world. The Sun had no effect on the cool water. Plans could be constructed in the murky depths. Thoughts of triumph and adversity melted in the peaceful surroundings. I learned to swim but not very well but I could float like a beach ball. I floated beyond the rope of no return to the scary other bank far away from the maddening crowd. I was the captain of my ship and the master of my soul.

Neva J and I sat with Aunt Guelda and Grandma A on her massive front porch and discussed family and friends’ faith and the struggle to survive. We knew that the Vietnam War was raging and not only Cousin Billy but Brenda’s husband Danny Doris was going to have to go, We feared the worst. Uncle Dutch had gone missing in World War II.

The Orpheum was an Oasis from the summer heat. Many Friday nights Saturdays and Sundays were spent in its cool confines. Elvis and John Wayne and Frankenstein and Dracula to keep us company. They did not like the heat any more than we did. We were comfortable in the air-conditioned dark with them.

The Pool Hall was air-conditioned. Dennis W and I went there after the Marlborough railroad walk. There were people there who appeared to have witnessed the seamy side of life. We shot some games and knew we were as big as any dog in the pound…