Summer does not really come to an end in Texas until around November. I suppose that we used to begin the school year in September because none of the schools had air conditioning and it could get quite warm in those rooms even after Labor Day. We may have been more adapted to the heat because not all of the homes had the joys of cooled air. I know that my home relied on a huge attic fan until around nineteen sixty-eight. 

Back when I was young those of us who were kids lived outside on those steamy days. The girls wore shorts and crop tops and the boys generally went without shirts. All of us ran around in our bare feet and by the end of the day those feet would be quite dirty so our mother sometimes hosed us down before ushering us back inside the house. We actually loved it when our entire bodies got wet and the grime on our necks called “Grandma’s beads” would wash away in one glorious moment. 

I suppose that people today would be stunned by how much freedom we had as children. There were times when we would get on our bikes and ride to the woods that still stood in the area. There we would build forts and ride on a handmade swing that hurled us back and forth over the bayou. When I read the tales of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn I totally identify with the characters. My summers in the south were filled with the same kind of adventures that they had. 

My family lived on what seemed like a very long street in those days. Whenever I go back to see our house the block feels much shorter than it did back then. There were other children in virtually every single home. Our particular stree was heavy on the boys but that didn’t seem to matter. I would join in the street games and the competitions held on the lawns. It’s a wonder that more of us did not end up with broken bones as we hurled each other into strange poses while enjoying Swing the Statue, and charged past locked arms in our competitions of Red Rover. 

For fun we sometimes created shows just like in the movies and even had a neighborhood newspaper that I carefully wrote, edited and illustrated. I charged five cents for each handwritten copy and the kind mothers never balked at paying me for my efforts. Our shows were no doubt too much like an amateur hour but we imagined that one day our talents would be discovered and we would become bonafide stars.

Now and again I sat on the hot concrete with girls from the neighborhood playing with our dolls. During that time I dreamed of one day sharing an apartment with them in New York City while we jetted around the world as airline stewardesses. I envisioned us as interior decorators as well because we managed to use boxes and scrap cloth to create furniture for our dolls. We marveled at our creativity.

Life may have been hot but it felt so good. I suppose that is one of the joys of childhood. I look back on those years with great feelings. I lived in a little cocoon where everyone and everything seemed safe. Sadly it probably was not as idyllic as I thought because harsh things were happening to the adults, but when you are a child you tend to ignore such things unless they involve you personally.

When we got a bit older my mother hosted card parties for us in our kitchen. She made pimento cheese sandwiches and lemonade that were to die for. Only well behaved kids were allowed into our inner sanctum and they did their best to be both polite and grateful so that they would not be driven back out in the hot sun because of bad manners. 

I eventually graduated to being ushered in for Mrs. Janot’s daily viewing of General Hospital. Winning the lottery would not have been better because her invitation included air conditioning and watermelon as long as I did not talk or get silly during the program. I got hooked on that series for many years afterward but eventually the day came when I had to go to work in the summertime to earn funds for things like a school trips and my class ring. Once I was employed I felt as though the innocence of those days were gone.

Things started to change so rapidly that I now take my cool home for granted and I spend most of my summers only looking out the window rather than daring to get active in the heat. I don’t see any of the children in our neighborhood. It is too hot for them. They will not return outside until the temperature falls. I suspect that they are meeting up with each other inside homes and I miss their laughter and their antics. 

My childhood sometime seems like a dream. I no longer have the stamina to stay in the heat of August anymore. I feel for teachers and kids who start school in the middle of the month that was once the final push to grab every bit of freedom that we had. 

I know that I have idealized my youth and the joys of playing outside for hours with bare feet and arms and legs. I’ve seen folks my age with severe skin cancers and I wonder if all that time in the sun has caused them problems in the present. I know that times have changed and today’s children seem to still be enjoying life as much as I did. I doubt that they would last long if we tossed them outside and suggested that they find ways to have fun while sweltering in the ever more common heat. Still, I would not give up the memories of those days for anything. They were surely grand. We had so much fun in the sun.