A few weeks ago I responded to Carly regarding her inspiration about a "Family Album". She asked what summer means to each of us, and to take a picture and submit it along with an essay.
I have been thinking, as my time zooms closer, and I have concluded that summer certainly has meant different things at particular times of my life. Those of ya'll who know me understand how much I love a "theme" and can run with it.
I was reminiscing about back when I was a kid. When you woke up each morning and had no clue what was in store for you in another 10 years. You awoke to all possibilities...no job to go to, no mate or lack of to worry about. Life was so simple, and at the time you didn't realize it.
It's summer. It is the 1960's. There are kids everywhere. Everywhere. On bikes, on skates, playing kick ball, making up gangs of all girls or all boys, building tree houses, playing Tarzan in the jungles of the rail road track, catching fire flies, rounding up enough people to play tag, statue, base ball, play marbles (I must have been the last generation to play marbles), hide and seek, and to dodge cars in the street. These were the elements of the summers of the 60's.
Then it was 1963, I think. The year the pool opened. My Dad was a very strong swimmer. Back in his day, he almost made it across the English channel. He did make it to New Jersey once swimming across the river....by accident, he caught the current. He made it his life's purpose to teach us kids to swim and not just to swim, but to swim well and some of us swam well enough to be champions.
This is the pool when it opened. I'm the girl. The boys are my pesky brothers (three of us born with in two years of each other...) and the baseball kid, the tiniest looking lovingly at his older siblings, P.
And my Dad, looking young and happy.
I sometimes dream of my Dad being at his prime of life, as in this picture.
These were some of the best summers of my life.