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Created on: August 16, 2009 Last Updated: August 18, 2010
Summer for me, is like a sad, misty feeling as if it will never come again. It is my favorite time of the year, although to most, they complain wishing it was winter and when winter arrives, they complain and wish for summer again. Then it starts all over. You can never please everyone at one time. When I was a child, we never had the joys or the time or the money to take a real honest vacation out of our comfort zone. Our summers where spent down at our local Tennessee River at Concord Park. Many families sought the solace and the peace ten miles away from the city and brought their children there to relax and play every Sunday after church. We would all get together and make plans to bring the many different kinds of home cooked dishes coupled along with, of course, the barbecue on the grill. The smells of the lazy, hazy days and the frolicking on the green, velvety pelts of grass, lingers to this day in my mind when we had no fear of gun shots and discord from others that would ruin our simpler times in the early 60's. Most everyone never shyed away from taking a dip into the mighty Tennessee river. Never was there an incident that spoiled the times of glee we had there and as for most, leaving the city anytime was a blessing.
Packing up later in the evening and saying goodbye to all of your friends left me with a melancholy feeling of all the memories spent there not knowing if my siblings and I would see them again on the next outing. It wasn't every week we were guaranteed that promise. Driving back in my fathers' 1955 blue and white Chevy in the dead of night, seemed like forever. But with all four windows rolled down, we placed our hands out of it to grab the warm, steamy air. The sounds of the crickets, the every now and then flicker of the lighting bugs in the dense woods, as we called them, was a mystery and a delight.
We did many things to occupy ourselves without the luxury of a vacation. Our days were spent just lounging around or out of doors catching big ole' green June bugs and placing them in a Mason jar with holes atop of the lid. We would also pick blackberries, defying snakes, wasps and anything else that would get in a kid's way of Mom's blackberry cobbler. We would read or write a mini play, pretending that we were on stage or making up little jingles or songs to present to our parents and the whole neighborhood for we were always planning to put on a mid-summers night show for all to see. On most of those evenings, our
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