...he likes a wild goose and even a mild grope once in a while...he's not a figment except of his own imaginings....
Summer Memories
- Thread starter Doc Creed
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...well, can't follow that with a story about lighting farts at Scout Camp, now can I???...
I am in hysterics reading this ....
Doc Creed
What a wonderful story. You know it is well written when as you are reading you can see the imagery in your mind.
Thanks and (do you have anymore stories)
Thank you, I have enjoyed sharing these personal stories. I'm glad they are resonating with you guys. I did share a few more in Sigmund's thread called Tell Me A Story. I appreciate the compliment.Doc Creed
What a wonderful story. You know it is well written when as you are reading you can see the imagery in your mind.
Thanks and (do you have anymore stories)
Did I forget to mention that your writing is more than a little bit impressive? It's like you combine existential poetry while channeling Twain in a snapshot.
I shared the following with a few other members in a different form and decided to share because of my recent dreams:
There may be specific reasons why alligators frequently invade my dreams but I can't be sure of the origin. The obvious reason would be my growing up in southwest Florida where we were taught to fear gators or, at the very least, respect them. These prehistoric cold-blooded reptiles could be found absorbing sun on a long stretch of highway and without a twitch resemble a dark, tapered log. They could be lurking near canals or drainage ditches where only a few feet away swimmers move like otters, laughing and splashing. Kids knew from a young age that no one could outrun an alligator and if encountered one must zigzag their way to safety which I always thought, on its face, was quite comical. A more sobering thought was the occasional news story of missing toddlers who were later found (sometimes in pieces) at the bottom of a pond or canal. Alligators, we learned, snatched their prey and drowned them where they were later devoured. No matter how I thrashed and wrestled with this knowledge I'd sometimes imagine grieving parents and authorities catching the offending gator and flipping the giant tire-tread carcass, cutting open its pale belly, where entombed inside lay the fetal child pickled in brine and blood.
What can I say....Summer time is the only time I get to see the sun when I work. Since I go in at 9pm I am off at 6 am. At winter time it cold and dark. When I get up to go to work the sun is going down fading away. The stars and lighted buildings seem like the only life. In summer time sun out when I get up and come out work. I am like wow I forgotten how bright it is at day time.
There's nothing quite like coming home to the summer of your dreams, as I did this summer past. Part of me, the pragmatic voice in my mind to be sure, warned against filing my head full of unrealistic, rose tinted expectations. That part needn't worry itself (intrusive, interloping naysayer, that thought!).
I can still smell the freshly cut sweet grass wafting aloft a warm breeze from the farm across the way. The salty sea spray filed every part of me, causing my lips to part in a wide grin, as I breathe every sensual taste and smell the ocean can offer, filling my nose, my soul with its briny essence. The smoky aroma of fall gives way to the crisp, cool sharpness that is winter to be.Oh yes, you can still go home.
I can still smell the freshly cut sweet grass wafting aloft a warm breeze from the farm across the way. The salty sea spray filed every part of me, causing my lips to part in a wide grin, as I breathe every sensual taste and smell the ocean can offer, filling my nose, my soul with its briny essence. The smoky aroma of fall gives way to the crisp, cool sharpness that is winter to be.Oh yes, you can still go home.
Excerpt, re-running from a prior posting:
Does anyone else have a memory of the Summer That Never Ended? Like Bryan Adams’ Summer of ’69? It was first summer I had my driver’s license, and suddenly Curt and I had a newfound freedom, and we wallowed in it. Curt, through his dad, had access to a local company swimming pool, and we were there a lot.
We also went to the city pool and saw friends, and we were really starting to get interested in how girls looked, particularly in their swimsuits, and we saw movies, and we blasted down the highway, and Curt started taking me to parties that his friends would have, which was the only way I got socialization with the outside world because I wasn’t getting there on my own, and…..
Well. That summer was glorious. I was peeking out of my fortress walls of social anxiety, wondering what was out there, and the excursions with Curt were on the cutting edge of that venture.
Now adding to the above: Curt and rode around in my parents' '67 Barracuda, or doubled up on my Honda motorcycle. I have a memory of a warm night on the local town's Teen Cruise Route, with the windows upon, and the instrumentals of the Doors' "Light My Fire" drifting out into the night air. I don't know if it's a real memory, but it's vivid, and I'm hanging on to it.
Once nice thing: When I rode the bike to Curt's social events, girls would invariably ask me for a ride. I always said yes.
That was the summer when I met a captivating blonde at a couple of the parties that Curt dragged me to. After a drama-filled, angst-ridden time, I started going out with the blonde. In fact, we go out still.
Does anyone else have a memory of the Summer That Never Ended? Like Bryan Adams’ Summer of ’69? It was first summer I had my driver’s license, and suddenly Curt and I had a newfound freedom, and we wallowed in it. Curt, through his dad, had access to a local company swimming pool, and we were there a lot.
We also went to the city pool and saw friends, and we were really starting to get interested in how girls looked, particularly in their swimsuits, and we saw movies, and we blasted down the highway, and Curt started taking me to parties that his friends would have, which was the only way I got socialization with the outside world because I wasn’t getting there on my own, and…..
Well. That summer was glorious. I was peeking out of my fortress walls of social anxiety, wondering what was out there, and the excursions with Curt were on the cutting edge of that venture.
Now adding to the above: Curt and rode around in my parents' '67 Barracuda, or doubled up on my Honda motorcycle. I have a memory of a warm night on the local town's Teen Cruise Route, with the windows upon, and the instrumentals of the Doors' "Light My Fire" drifting out into the night air. I don't know if it's a real memory, but it's vivid, and I'm hanging on to it.
Once nice thing: When I rode the bike to Curt's social events, girls would invariably ask me for a ride. I always said yes.
That was the summer when I met a captivating blonde at a couple of the parties that Curt dragged me to. After a drama-filled, angst-ridden time, I started going out with the blonde. In fact, we go out still.
The summer I was 15. I went to stay with my Aunt and her family, as I'd done before, in Redlands, California. This summer, the neighbor -- who was a longtime friend of my Grandmother's -- had her Grandson living in her "mother-in-law apartment." He was 19 and I fell hard! Eventually, my feelings were reciprocated and that summer was magic.
There's a song by Jim Croce that captures how I feel about that summer called "Alabama Rain" -- I just replace Alabama with California.
Of course, at the summer's end I had to return home. We stayed in touch via letter and phone until the next summer. But the magic wasn't there that second summer, though we still cared for one another deeply. The next summer, we only saw each other for a brief visit with our Grandmothers. After that he moved back to Colorado. He died in 2003. Man, there's nothing like that first love, is there?
The summer I was 15. I went to stay with my Aunt and her family, as I'd done before, in Redlands, California. This summer, the neighbor -- who was a longtime friend of my Grandmother's -- had her Grandson living in her "mother-in-law apartment." He was 19 and I fell hard! Eventually, my feelings were reciprocated and that summer was magic.
There's a song by Jim Croce that captures how I feel about that summer called "Alabama Rain" -- I just replace Alabama with California.
Of course, at the summer's end I had to return home. We stayed in touch via letter and phone until the next summer. But the magic wasn't there that second summer, though we still cared for one another deeply. The next summer, we only saw each other for a brief visit with our Grandmothers. After that he moved back to Colorado. He died in 2003. Man, there's nothing like that first love, is there?
Sometimes I forget how lovely a Croce song could be. Thanks for sharing.
From Henley, "Boys of Summer":
I can see you,
Your brown skin shining in the sun
I see you walking real slow and you're
Smiling at everyone
The whole thing of Seger's "Night Moves," except not "young and restless and bored." We were young, energetic, and out for adventure.
And the aforementioned Adam's "Summer of '69":
Oh, when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Yeah, I'd always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life
Those days indeed are gone, but they've been replaced with other good and great days - and I feel fortunate to have experienced those summer days of the past when I was young, had so much energy, and even with all of the volatility of that age.
He wrote some achingly beautiful songs, indeed.
Oh, man. Summer meant so much more when it had a tangible end. IMO. Now the seasons all kind of run together...
Tery! I’m sure this is off topic, but I saw this and thought of you:
...he’s wearing a Rush t-shirt!
More here please, everyone! ((((((( this thread ))))))
I can smell the hair and fish and I mean that in a good way
Neesy
#1 fan (Annie Wilkes cousin) 1st cousin Mom's side
That's a good comment doowopgirl - you must think like I do!
There was a weekend trip to a local amusement park right after I graduated HS that pretty much marked the end of my adolescent summers. And, no it's not in the way that y'all are thinking.
I was starting my first full-time job the day after I got back. That was depressing enough to me as a teenager. More importantly, my Dad had a heart attack while I was away. It was very minor but was the beginning of the medical issues that eventually brought him to the clearing at the end of the path. It was the incident that made me recognize his (and my own) mortality.
I was starting my first full-time job the day after I got back. That was depressing enough to me as a teenager. More importantly, my Dad had a heart attack while I was away. It was very minor but was the beginning of the medical issues that eventually brought him to the clearing at the end of the path. It was the incident that made me recognize his (and my own) mortality.