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Tell Us About Your Lazy Hazy Days Of Summer
Posted by Theresa111 • 6/20/11
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Back in the days when it was safe to go exploring on your own, say good-bye to our parents and show up in time for supper, long bicycle rides and hours of swimming in the pool, sharing hot dogs and popsicles, seem far away.
Share some of the great things that happened during your summers. Come back and share a few stories over the next two months. Summer trips, ocean-side sandcastles, surfing, snorkeling, hiking, camping, picnics, family gatherings, summer friends, and more.
We can revisit some of the food trends we had when we were growing up. I'm sure some of our stories will jolt the memories of others reading this. We might not have the same languid summers of yore, but we can still appreciate them here.
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You can also tell us what you plan to do this summer.
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It's funny that you posted this. I recently connected with my childhood friends via Facebook and we've had a good time reliving our exploits as kids way back in the early to mid-70's.
Growing up in a mobile home park in rural South Carolina was actually a lot of fun. We had a neighborhood gang of kids. The core group consisted of me, my best friend Sharon (a year older), her brother Darvin (a year younger), the landlord's daughter, Wanda (my age), and her brother, Jeff (Darvin's age). Sharon and Darvin's little sister and Wanda and Jeff's little sister were the tagalongs. Over the years other kids drifted in and out of the group as they moved in and out of the neighborhood.
Typically, in summer we would start the day by playing in my yard. We had the biggest lot (nearly an acre) with huge pecan trees which had tire swings. By about 1976 we'd formed our own "band" where we would lip synch to our favorite tunes. I had a hand-me-down stereo and we'd put the speakers in my bedroom window and play records (for the youngsters out there those are big vinyl discs with grooves that make music). One summer we took wood from a torn down shack and built a multi-level stage in my yard. I'm talking multi-level stage! The thing was about 30 feet across with steps we'd salvaged from an abandoned trailer that went up to a second level about 15 feet long. We took pieces of metal we found and make "microphone" stands then built fake guitars out of wood. Fat Albert and the Junkyard kids had nothing on us!
We'd take to our stage and perform the entire Kiss Alive album. I usually was Ace Frehley, back then I was a very skinny kid. My friend Darvin usually took the role of Paul Stanley, Jeff would be Gene Simmons, and Sharon drifted in and out as Peter Criss.
After our "concert" we'd often head across the highway down a dirt road to a pond owned by Wanda and Jeff's folks. There we'd recreate the latest episodes of Charlie's Angels or Chips or whatever show happened to be in vogue at the moment.
After lunch we'd head in the opposite direction down THE dirt road to the creek where we'd spend the rest of the day and into early evening exploring. Sometimes we'd walk for miles through the woods and end up walking home down the highway or cutting across fields and pastures to get home by dark.
If we were really lucky during the height of summer you'd hear someone yell "Can ____ come out to play?" after supper. If there was still some light out we'd often have one more "concert" or we'd set up our mock radio station for a little bit. On really, really good days we'd get to set up tents in my yard and we'd "camp out" - at least until we got bored and decided to go watch TV. -
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I felt as if I could see it all happen. This was great. I hope you'll stop by again and share more of these tales. I love it!!!
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I loved the tall handle bars. My friend Larry White (bless him), he had a banana seat bike with these handlebars. Back then if he were to give us a ride on the front of his bike, I would have easily fit. Not now! Ha!
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I grew up in Decatur Alabama. I lived near the Water Park Point Mallard. So we would take off with our bikes and go swimming at the water park, biking on the trails by the river, and stop by a little store that sold penny candy. We would come home with a bag of candy and a drink. We were all over the place near my house. It was so nice no one bothered you when you were out riding your bikes and exploring with friends.-
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I know! Riding my bicycle was one of the best things ever! I pretended my bike was a horse.
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Ramps! Got to build bicycle ramps to jump... not to mention a banana seat and "chopper" style bike. LOL
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Amy ... Can Amy come out to play? Remember the kids calling you to come outside? How great were those invitations ... I mean, who could resist a friend calling you to come and join in all of the fun.
I was listening to an old HBO Ellen DeGeneres show the other night and she made the point, that we all forgot to have fun somewhere along the way. I say let's have fun the old fashioned way.
We can make some macaroni and cheese, hot dogs and kool-aid, too.
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I always liked to travel from New York City to Miami, FL to see our Grandparents. They had retired there from Roanoke, VA and lived in a trailer park. We would stay at a family motel with swimming pool and a kitchen, so Daddy could cook for us. I learned to swim under water just before my sixth birthday, but right after I knocked my two front teeth out, by pushing a shopping cart into a display case and it smacked me in my mouth. I loved lying on the inner-tube we took turns blowing air into, in order to fill it up. The lap of the warm water against the rubber raft was so enjoyable.
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My eldest brother moved to San Diego around 1977 and each summer after that I would go visit him. At first it was a couple weeks but by high school I was spending the entire summer from June to early August there. It was so strange to go from a tiny rural town to a big city each summer.
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One of our newest members has a loquat tree and I was saying when I was a girl, living in Miami, FL, I had my very own loquat tree. I could reach up and pick fruit whenever I wanted. It tasted like summer, and it would since it was usually hot nine months out of twelve. I also remember practically living in the swimming pool across the street, at my friend Marci's house. It was wonderful riding our bikes, swimming and picking fruit. Our next door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Santella, had fruit growing everywhere. I used to sneak fruit, especially those tempting strawberries. My favorite was the mangos and the juice dripping down my chin and all over my small hands as I ate them.
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I remember when thunder storms used to be normal. We would not hide out neath the trees, but we didn't feel threatened by them either. We would squeal and run to shelter and hunker down until the storm passed. Everything would feel washed down and the earthy scents mingling with the heat would waft upward until the grounds were once again dry. Bare feet were the norm during the summer months, or Keds, which were sneakers, like deck shoes, that could be kicked off at a moments notice.
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I loved those afternoon thunderstorms in the South. It seemed like they happened so much more frequently when I was a kid. By the time I was an adult there were summers when we'd go weeks (even a month or two) with no rain or storms.
That's one thing I enjoy about the Sonoran Desert. When the Monsoon gets going around the end of June or first of July we get wonderful thunderstorms with downpours of rain in the afternoon or evening. -
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I did not know it rained in the dessert. Take a video please.
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Generally, it only rains on the dessert when someone leaves the cake out in the rain in MacArthur Park.
But the Sonoran Desert is the wettest desert on Earth with a short winter rainy season and then the North American Monsoon that usually appears out of the mountains of northern Mexico in late June or early July and runs through early September bringing the majority of the yearly rain to the region.
Here's a photo of an underpass downtown in Tucson just after a Monsoon storm blew through a few years ago.
v7.cache7.c.bigcache.googleapis.com/static.panoramio.com/photos/original/48...
A storm over Tucson:
A video from Youtube of a Monsoon rainstorm...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgiHUGeawVo
Information on the North American Monsoon:
www.wrh.noaa.gov/twc/monsoon/monsoon_NA.php -
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Dude! You're Awesome!!!
The photo of the girl in the boat is this water on a roadway?
I found one, too. taken July 14, 2008.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wt6M6voiK4A&NR=1
Just incredible these videos and photographs.. I never heard of an Arizona Monsoon. This is all new(s) to me. -
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Yeah the photo is taken at an underpass near downtown. It's a really steep hill on both sides to the tunnels so when it floods it's like a lake. Really cool. We just had a pretty good set of storms blow through about an hour ago and drop the temp from about 100 to 71 in less than 30 minutes. Beautiful... and the scent of rain in the desert just can't be matched.
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So if it rains most of the next two months then the dessert is quite nice instead of just hot and sandy? And is this a dry heat or a humid heat?
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The Sonoran Desert isn't really "sandy" the way most people think of deserts (remember the photo of the flowers I sent you?) It can be dry and it can be dusty but we're not talking sand dunes and Lawrence of Arabia.
Humidity is up during the Monsoon, obviously, because it's the water that keeps the storms going. For example it's 74 right now (12:30am) and 78% humidity. Two weeks ago it would have been in the mid-80's with 5-15% humidity this time of the night with really hot wind. Tomorrow is forecast to be about 98 degrees and the humidity will probably drop down into the 40-50% range by midday then begin to go back up in the afternoon as the storms begin to form. We've got about a 30% shot at storms tomorrow afternoon and evening.
So, during the Monsoon in southern Arizona it's a lot like being back in SC during summer except the humidity when storms aren't around is tolerable. -
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Do you guys get to cookout much in the summertime? Is there a portico with a roof (naturally), where you can grill, even if it does storm? My husband said it's really pretty there. Do you have scorpions, snakes and (yikes) the dreaded vultures? I think of the dessert as a place to be avoided, most probably from the old westerns and movies with the mob or gangsters.
When you mentioned Lawrence of Arabia I was drinking my coffee ... you should tell me before you are going to make me chuckle. Ha!
Did you guys have any leftovers from the Fourth? -
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We used to grill out more before we moved to our new place around the corner. Our new backyard isn't quite as nice and shady as our old one so it gets too hot to grill except in early spring or late fall.
Southern Arizona is really gorgeous in its own right. People have strange ideas about what the desert is like. About the only thing they get right is that we don't have huge bodies of water ... but we do have water and small lakes even. We have one river that flows through Tucson 12 months out of the year and another that flows during the rainy season and is dry the rest of the time. We even have skiing in winter up on Mt. Lemmon.
There are snakes and scorpions and other wild creatures like javelina (a type of peccary/pig), coyotes, bobcats, mountain lions, Mexican gray wolf, and up until recently the last wild jaguar in America. Honestly, though I have yet to see a snake in Arizona. Saw them all the time in South Carolina! I have spotted coyotes - one ran across the road two weeks ago when I was driving back from a doctor's appointment. You're more likely to see hummingbirds, wrens, doves, quail and roadrunners here than vultures, though.
Take a look at some of the scenery...
picasaweb.google.com/BuckBannister/SouthernArizona -
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To Sugarpies: I’ve not seen AZ in a very long time. My first trip there was in 1971, to see a very close friend who moved from Huntington, NY, to Prescott Valley, AZ. There were only 13 houses in the valley back then. The fellow down the street used the street as his own private runway. The fellow next door had a small 2-seater helicopter; which I actually got to fly. Sedona was nothing but a burnt-out copper mine. It was filled with druggies and vagrants. It was a scary place. Mine was one of the first cars over the London Bridge in Lake Havasu City. I rented a new 1971 Plymouth Fury III. There was a plaque on the dash that read, “CAUTION: When exceeding 135 MPH close all windows and vents!” Otherwise the rear window would blow out. I made it from Phoenix to Prescott Valley in 53 minutes. Oh how times have changed. -
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Christopher, that's really funny. My spouse, Michael, came to Arizona for the first time in 1975 on Spring Break from college. In late summer he left Wisconsin and moved to Phoenix. In 1980 he moved to Prescott Valley where he lived until we met. Then he moved to South Carolina. We moved back out here after 10 years but decided to forgo PV which has filled up now and become one huge housing development! I really like Tucson although we visit his dad who retired to AZ and other family in PV several times a year.
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see below
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Summers were always back home in Portugal. My parents had a summer home in the south of Portugal walking distance by the beach. Each of us would wake up at our own time, have breakfast and walk down to the beach, both my sister and I would reconnected with our friends some of which we would only see during those summer months. We would hang out, play games, go surfing or water skiing. There was a tiny cabana on the beach which served amazing lunches (mostly salads, sandwiches and grilled fish). Sometimes we would grab a sandwich and stick with our friends other times we would be nice enough to meet with our parents and enjoy a full meal which consisted of shellfish and grilled fish caught that same morning. My parents would go back home around 7ish in the afternoon and my sister and I an hour or two later. We would eat dinner as a family or sometimes a few families would gather together, then the kids would clean up everything. We would play guitar, sing then by 11pm we would hit the bars and nightclubs.
Prior to heading back hoe we would go to the local bakery and knock at their door and they would sell us the warm bread. The cars (our parent's cars mind you) would be filled with breadcrumbs and as soon as we would arrive home we would clean them and by 5am we would be sound asleep!
I miss though lazy days.
This year we are going back to Portugal and stay at my parents B&B for two weeks, my teen most likely will be going surfing everyday. We are also planning on spending two days in Madrid at my sister's house so that my teen gets to know that beautiful city.-
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This sounds idyllic Sofia. I loved reading this.
"Each of us would wake up at our own time, have breakfast and walk down to the beach ..."
Good thing you cleaned up those bread crumbs. That baker was lovely to sell you early warm bread.
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Wow! This just in!
www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2011713/Phoenix-dust-storm-rolls-desert-Ar...
Buck, Monsoons? Dust Storms?-
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I basically grew up in the middle of the Pike National Forest...at least during the summers.
Guilty pleasure that haunts me to this day: deviled ham sammiches with grape sodi pop.-
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Where in the world is this place?
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Orange Crush was always my preferred poison. Hmmmm.....
Deviled Ham Sandwiches though made me think of a Ham Biscuits with mustard. When I was really young we would go to the beach (always meaning Myrtle Beach if you are from South Carolina). Mama was very frugal and she'd always rent an "efficiency" at the beach which included a kitchen so she could bring food and do her own cooking. For the trip down she would make Ham Biscuits which is just sliced smoked ham on a large homemade biscuit slathered in butter and mustard. We'd stop near the Air Force Base in Sumter at a little parking area across from the runway and watch the jets take off and land while eating.
The humble Ham Biscuit has now made a fortune for Hardee's and Carl's Jr. who built the fast food breakfast trade on them in the 70's and 80's. -
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When I was working in the Pastry Kitchen of GHW hotel, I used to have to make 450 large plain and 300 mini ham and cheese biscuits. I used their recipe naturally, but when they baked I only ate them if I was very, very hungry. I much prefer my own buttermilk biscuit recipe. Delicate, flavorful, flaky and crumbly all at the same time goodness, to fill your mouth and tummy. Yes!
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The smell of chlorine and wet bathing attire is reminiscent of the summer. Playing with my friends at the pool for hours on end was always a pleasing way to spend summer afternoons. We would take hourly rests for fifteen minutes, lie on beach towels, and dry off in the hot sun, then play rummy or canasta, both card games. Sometimes we would take turns brushing each other's hair and talking about going to the soda shoppe to get some candy or to sit at the fountain and share a hamburger, fries and coke.
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I mentioned the fireplace in Paula Deen's kitchen on another post and Theresa asked me to post about my years doing living history with the National Park Service and other historic sites. I don't seem to have any photos of me tending the fires mainly because it wasn't my "interpretive skill" and I just manned them after hours to help out our cook, Joyce. But, I did come across a couple photos of some of our cooking from that time period.
This is my teacher and mentor in colonial cooking and sewing, Joyce Walker. She's just taken a pot of "Bubble & Squeak" out of the fireplace and is checking on it. B&S is a very fragrant dish of pork and greens (cabbage among other things at hand). Very much colonial era peasant fare.
Here Joyce is looking over the table and awaiting everyone to finish working and come inside the cabin to eat lunch. In the little red basket are some scones and ginger cakes that I'd done for dessert. Outside the window you can see one of our carpenters who was hewing a large replacement beam for the original cabin using only 18th Century tools - in this case a huge adze.
BTW: This was not a lazy, hazy day of summer but a brisk and cold morning in the dead of winter. -
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That's all right Buck, I felt the heal from her kettle and the Bubble & Squeak. What a name. This is very good fun.
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The summer I was fourteen and my sister Mary was eighteen, we were invited by our Parents to join them for a week-long stay at Downingtown Inn, located in Downingtown, PA, in Chester County. We were joined by our Auntie and Uncle, and theirs and my Parent's best friends, too.
The days were ours to spend walking about, playing card games by the pool and swimming until we were exercised. Afterward we would suntan on our brightly-colored beach towels; although there wasn't a spec of sand in sight, other than the golf course. We would get together for breakfast, lunch and then everyone dressed up for dinner, entertainment and dancing. The popular dances of our parent's generation was within the arms of a dancing partner, and we had such a delightful time learning the dance steps from our three gentlemen partners. I must confess that each did their own version of the Foxtrot, so Mary and I had to watch our steps and our toes.
I loved dressing up and everyone was refined. There was a lot of booze being served (we had Shirley Temples), and I believe my Father allowed my sister to sip some of his drinks, too. She was after all, eighteen. The evenings were filled with big band music and later Mary and I would go poolside to listen to the local bands pounding out the top hits of the day.
One afternoon, my Father came looking for me. I had been sneaking a cigarette smoke and didn't have time to use mouth wash, so I kept my conversation under my breath. He instructed me to follow him and I thought I was in trouble because he kept hurrying me along. We ended up at the swimming pool! What? It was jammed packed with the guests. I looked at my Dad with question marks clearly visible in my eyes. He smiled that wonderful smile of his and announced to all there, "Here she is and I bet you she can do it!" Do what I wondered.
The man standing at the edge of the deep end told me he was throwing twelve (I watched the movements of his hands as he threw) silver spoons into the twelve-foot deep water. I was to be afforded one huge gulp of air and expected to retrieve all twelve spoons. Really!
I was a bit winded from being hurried up the hill after my illicit smoking, but I could see how very much this meant to my Mom and Dad. They both wore the same, assurance and faith, shining from their faces. I nodded and every one cheered. Oh boy! I centered my focus, looked to see the spots of glimmering silver and breathed in deep breathes of air. My lungs were as full as I could make them be. I dove in.
It is true you can hear sounds from underneath the water and they were cheering and laughing. I quickly darted from spoon-to-spoon, picking up the utensils until I got to the last one. Wouldn't you know! I could not hold six spoons in each hand. I kept dropping it and I kept after it. Finally, I exhaled some air and went back to the last one. I put it into my mouth and pushed my way up from the bottom of the pool. A rousing cheer almost deafened me as I placed eleven spoons on the cement and then pulled the last one from my teeth. I had done it! I was so glad not to be in trouble for the smoking and that I had proved my Father right. I was patted on the back many times and hugged by everyone in my party, including my sister! Woo-Hoo!
I shall always remember winning the tiny little trophy. I believe I gave it to my Parents. I felt very proud that day.
I heard it burned down and they rebuilt it. Here is a link. www.golfdowningtown.com/golf/proto/golfdowningtown/home/home.html
It was our version (Dirty Dancing Vacation). -
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Lying on the blanket with large beach towels on top. One of those gigantic striped (blue and white) umbrellas, the sound of the surf and suntan oil permeating the air. Conversations spoken with eyed closed against the bright sun, and steel drum bands in the near distance. Lots of cocktails and bliss.-
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This meshes really well with the latest HHM Food For Thought blog post. Click the Blog Tab next to the Community Tab.
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Our family all piled into our brand new station wagon and headed from NYC to Canada. We were going to Montreal and to Niagara Falls for a week's vacation of traveling around Canada, Vermont and Upper New York. We always loved getting away together, and our downstairs neighbor took in our green and yellow parakeet, Tommy, so we had no worries on that point. We each had packed four days worth of clothing. On the third day, Mother would wash our belongings at a laundry mat, so we were always assured of having freshly laundered attire. My fifth birthday (August 13th), was to be celebrated in Canada, and we were excited to be seeing new places and hearing people speak with entirely different accents, too.
Everything was postcard picture perfect. One night we got a pizza but it was weird and tasted hot. Not the usual perfectly baked NYC pizza pie. Oh no! This made me turn up my little nose and when my Mother asked me, "Theresa, How do you like your pizza?" I replied "I think I'm going to Bommit!" Everyone laughed but they too, agreed the pizza was horrible. We were glad to toss in the remaining uneaten slices into the cardboard box, and throw it into a waste bin.
The very next day on our return trip through customs (we were in a queue of automobiles, I was feeling sort of hot and queasy. Before any one could think to help, I HAD Bommited all over the back floor of the new station wagon. My Daddy kept consoling me while he cleaned away the offending odors of that infamous pizza. Truth to tell ... I was only kidding when I had told my Mother that, but somehow it came to pass. I still get reminded about this from my siblings. -
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When I was seven and a-half, we moved from Staten Island, NY to Miami Beach, FL. Our Father's Parents lived there and my Dad had had enough of the frigid winter's living on the bay and surrounded on the east side by The cold Atlantic Ocean. So we were to experience what it was like to live on a flat land, having come from the tallest and steepest hills my little legs could climb and once I got a bike that coming summer, I rode for hours without ever getting tired. Florida offered poolside recreation ten months out of the year.
Not sure which month it was but there was a huge hurricane predicted for our area. My Mother was running about like a hen protecting her chicks. Really ... there was no place to run or hide, as there was no basement, and the home we were renting was not a stone fortress. Mother went food shopping, a job usually left to my Dad, as he was the main cook in the family. What she brought home amazed us all. Giant tubs of peanut butter, cans of vegetables, loaves of bread, gallons of milk, which she promptly placed into the freezer for safe keeping, and lunchmeat. One more item, Miracle Whip. Although she was still fretful and anxious, she seemed very satisfied with her choices. My Grandmother exchanged a glance with my Dad, and everyone smiled and hugged Mother because we knew she was trying to make us feel safe.
Well, we were spared from the onslaught of the hurricane as it turned away and we had lots of peanut butter to eat. The milk was gone pretty quickly because we guzzled it like there was no tomorrow!
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