SUMMERS JUST AINT THE SAME--------As my journey toward the Eastern Gate begins to gain pace I am continually taken back to memories of a bygone era when things were simpler, slower and sweeter. The impending month of June as I recall was a time when school children out for the summer took off their shoes vowing not to put them on until school started lessen there was a mighty important death in the family. Some boys recieved G. I. or Flat tops which also were guarnteed by Metcalfs for a summer. Snow balls and ice cold watermelon slices were the rewards for staying out of trouble. Blackberries and wild green plums were abundant along dusty dirt roads that reeked of sweet honeysuckle.Families sat on porches after suppa, not dinner in those days, and sipped sweet southern iced tea with a hint of lemon while solving the worlds problems. Excitement at the thought of anticipated adventures around the Fourth of July when the Bibb, Swift and Eagle and Phenix shut down allowing for long awaited down home pilgrimages.Young men having been required to find summer employment stretched the tales of how hard they were required to work. The porch also served occassioally as a designated area for hulling butterbeans and shelling peas or vice versa I never really understood the difference. Cane poles, crickets, wigglers and the lure of full moon bream /shellcracker beds boiling with fish anxious to committ suicide preceded Ray Scott, The Bassmasters, topwater plugs and the Texas rig. Young neighborhood delinquents awaited the arrival of late summer muscadines and scuppernongs in order to renew their annual wine making. Probably one of my mst vivid recollection was that alluring fragrance of Coppertone. Oh well, Precious Memories How They Linger. No one sits on the porch anymore lest they defy riders by bullets. Young people have no idea of what a summer job is, The mills have all been outsourced or replaced with high speed European equipment, further reducing the needed workforce. Dirt roads reeking of honeysuckle are hard to find Even the plum trees and blackberry bushes have become extinct. Global warming I suppose. Kids are too lazy to even play hide an seek. As for my preoccupation or fetish with the lure of the Coppertone girl I can only assume that a seriously decling testostorone level might have something to do with my reduction in interest. Im sure it couldnt be the distorted appearance of young babes whose bodies have be beseiged by a wild tatoo artist of a once angelic face scarred by a facial jewelry revolution. Let the Church say Amen it aint likely to get better.
Posted on: Thu, 29 May 2014 01:26:46 +0000