No More Pencils, No More Books

Today is the first day of summer. It's a truly beautiful day! School ended for most children in our town this week. I was remembering the feeling of relief I always had when we got home after the last day of school. The wool jumpers and skirts that were required at St. Paul of the Cross school were shed for cotton shorts and tops. We made it through another grade! And we had an entire summer to do whatever we wanted. 

This picture was taken by our milkman in the back of his truck. We are dressed alike because we are wearing our school clothes. This is how they sent kids to school in southern California (90+ degrees)! 

Our family didn't take summer vacations. That would be too great an expense and undertaking for a family our size. There was one vacation, however - the year my parents combined our move from California to Illinois with a trip to see the major educational sites between those states. But mostly, we just stayed home in the summer, happy to be out of school. 

We never expected entertainment. We had time and freedom - that was enough. Sometimes there were structured activities or day trips, but not often. One year, those of us who were old enough took swimming lessons. My parents had joined Los Coyotes Country Club for this reason. And another year, Tommy and I shared a membership for Paradise Daycamp. We alternated days and it was really fun. 

But mostly, we were left to our own devices and it was really hot! We didn't dare complain to Mom that we were bored - she always had a list of chores at the ready! There was no air conditioning at our house, so we sought relief in a pool (any pool), hanging around the library or at the local elementary school. Each year, Eastwood school opened an air-conditioned section of classrooms for kids to do art, play pingpong, or work on their reading. Or we could play outdoor games like hopscotch and tetherball with other kids. 

We could also escape to friend's house, as long as it was on our street. When Ricky was about five, he started to slip away and disappear. It usually took an hour or two for anyone to notice he wasn't around. We would start a frantic search throughout the house, yard and neighborhood. About the time Mom was just about ready to give up and call the police, Rick would stroll into the yard. All he would say was "I went to my whipping boy's house." We had watched The Prince and The Pauper on TV, and I guess it made an impression. For anyone who hasn't seen the movie, the prince has a whipping boy who gets spanked anytime the prince misbehaved. After the third or fourth time Rick disappeared, Mom had him followed. He went out of the neighborhood to a house several streets away. His whipping boy was the little brother of one of my school friends. I had taken him there once to play, months earlier. Boy, was Ricky surprised to find that he, not his whipping boy, had to face the punishment that had been promised if he went missing again. 

By the Forth of July we were fully entrenched in summer living. Disneyland, in nearby Anaheim, had fireworks displays every summer weekend. We stood on my parents bed (yes, on the pillows) to look out the second-floor window and see the show. On the 4th of July weekend, my dad would always create his own fireworks display in our backyard. Firework stands, selling firecrackers, cones, and sparklers started to spring up on every corner and vacant lot after Memorial Day. Our favorites were the cones that created beautiful colors, some erupting over 10 feet high, Smoky Joe (a hobo cutout with a cigar in his mouth that exploded in a shower of sparks when lit), Piccolo Pete (a small firecracker that let out an ear-splitting whistle when ignited) and the Log Cabin (made of cardboard, it smoldered slowly until suddenly it was engulfed in flames). And before it got dark, we'd light snakes, a little black pellet that would create a long "snake" made of black ashes.   

When we moved to Illinois, summers seemed longer because we didn't have the same outlets to occupy our time. There were no schools, stores, library or parks that we could walk to. We were about the only kids in the neighborhood. But we somehow managed to find interesting things to do. We'd ride our bikes around and around the circular driveway, roller skate for hours in the cool basement, or explore the woods. 

Our house in Bethesda was the first one we owned that had central air conditioning. I was in Junior High, so my summer was spent reading Teen and Seventeen magazines and talking on the phone. We lived close to a school playground, so Barbara, Cherie and I took turns bringing the littlest siblings to swing and slide. Since the house stayed cool, I don't think we were as desperate to escape.   

So, happy summer to everyone! It looks like it's going to be a good one!