Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

 Summer!  How magical it seemed to me as a child growing up in the fifties and sixties.  Almost like a fairy tale, a wonderful dream from which I never wanted to awaken.  Of course, life wasn’t always perfect every day, but mostly it was.  I didn’t have a computer or the internet.  I didn’t have video games.  Life was jump rope, hide and go seek, running through a garden hose to stay cool on those hot, summer days, and playing Cowboys and Indians with my friends.  We played soldiers, and tag, kick ball and bad mitton.  Rarely were we ever in doors, unless it was to get a cold glass of ice tea or lemonade and maybe grab a bite to eat.  We played outside from morning until evening.  Sometimes it was so dark we could barely see one another.  We ran back and forth across the streets in safety.  We didn’t have to fear that we would be run over by a car or kidnapped.  Life was so much simpler then.

   My friends and I walked all over town talking about everything and talking about nothing.  We played at the park and played at the school.  We spent nights in the neighbors back yard tent and other times slept out under the sky, trying to see how many falling stars we could see.  I was in awe of all the beauty that surrounded my summers.  Many times, I would be found all by myself, my backside propped up against a tree reading one of the many books that I got from the library.  Summers were special to me because I could roam almost any where that my feet could carry me; out to the country side, to my friends house for a horse back ride, climbing the highest trees, and if I didn’t feel like walking then I would ride my bike for miles. My mother never had to worry about my safety, and if she did, she never said.  It was just a carefree time to grow up.