The Darlings of Summer
The summers of my youth were spent at a resort campground. I miss this place terribly, to tell you the truth. It was very much a "village" type atmosphere in that, all grown-ups were considered "parental". If someone else's mother told me to stop hanging upside down from the monkey bars, I stopped hanging upside down. Being that we had so many grown-ups around us, we were allowed full reign of this resort. The property lines were outlined to us many times; we knew them by heart. And we did stay on the property at all times, we really did. But honestly, there were days when I kissed my mother good-bye at eight in the morning and didn't come back to our campsite until well after dark.
That would never be allowed today. So, I am grateful that I got to have my summers basically free to do what I wanted. Yes, I admit that I would never let my own son roam free. If we went somewhere, he would always be in my line of sight. But that was a different time. And being that I was free to roam, I had many an adventure.
Most of the time was spent swimming. If I ever develop skin cancer, I will know why. I almost never had sunblock on, but again, that was a different time. After swimming, we (and when I say we, I mean a group of us kids that had banded together into this tightknit little mini-gang) would go to the playground. I would fashion my beach towel atop my head, go to the highest point of the jungle gym and declare myself princess. For some reason, this was not challenged by anyone within the group. I wonder why I can't seem to get people to recognize this now. Maybe, I've lost my touch.
There were times when other little mini-gangs of kids would try to challenge our hold on the resort. This was unacceptable. Let me regale of the tale of my brother's first bout.
We were at the playground, swinging on the swings. And if you know anything about swings, you know that they are nothing more than child rockets. One has to know how to effectively pump your legs back and forth, so that you swing higher and faster, which makes for a better launch when you let go of the swing altogether. Again, this would never be allowed nowadays.
Another little mini-gang happened to come upon us. As it just so happens, they were the sons of the karate instructor where I took lessons. I knew them. I knew their arrogance. The eldest, Tony, always threatened that his father was a black belt. Big deal, because his father couldn't save him in a fight with me. And he knew that. The youngest, Robert, was the biggest brat this side of the Mississippi. Robert and my brother were both four years old. I was ten at this time. Robert and my brother started fighting over a swing. I told Tony that my brother had had it first. Tony said that we were hogging the swings. While Tony and I debated over who had rights to the swing, Robert and Krystopher started duking it out.
Robert had been trained. Yes, I know he was only four, but the kid knew karate. My brother knew none of this. He only knew that he had had the swing first. I remember this with full clarity. Tony leaned back against a pole with his hands behind his head.
"My brother will kick his butt," he told me.
I looked over at my little bro, worried that he might get hurt. Robert tried to kick Krystopher, but my brother moved out of the way. While my brother was busy dodging the kick, Robert grabbed the swing and defiantly took his throne. Krystopher, not to be outdone, merely walked over and pushed Robert backwards off the swing, where he landed in a rut of dirt. Robert began crying and wailing. Tony threatened to tell on us, but we had our gang, who were all witness to how the fight began and who started it. I told Tony that if he kept threatening people with karate, that these types of things will always happen. If Robert didn't want to get hurt, then he shouldn't have tried to kick my brother. And to tell you the truth, it had been a beautiful kick. The style and form were just lovely, but it never connected to the target, unfortunately for Robert. Tony and Robert left, defeated. Our hold on the swings remained intact.
After that, Tony stopped his "my dad is a blackbelt" rants. For the most part, our groups got along. It could be because his father had a talk with him. It could be that he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Or it could be that he had seen me in one of his father's classes and got scared. Who knows? (One time, while in this class, another kid hit me square on the nose. I got a nosebleed and everything. I wasn't hurt, I was pissed, but my mother made a big deal over it. I pushed her away and demanded back into the sparring match. The kid was much bigger than I was. I did a roundhouse into his stomach, leaving him heaving on the floor. Sweet justice! I had to do fifty pushups for that one, but it was so worth it.)
To tell you the truth, we really didn't fight that much though. Other kids just automatically conceded that it was "our resort". Even the teenagers had a certain amount of respect and would sometimes let us play pool with them. And the adults... well, we knew where to go for all the good stuff. An elderly camper, Evelyn, would always give us gum. She was so sweet. But the greatest of all were Jack and Margaret. We always told her that her name should have been Jill. They let us play cards with them, even teaching us new games. This is where I learned Shanghai Rummi. Don't ever bet money on a game of Shanghai Rummi with me, I have been taught by the best. We sort of adopted them as our secondary grandparents.
The people were great, but our gang was the best. Shaun was the eldest, older than me by a year. We were the best of friends during the summer. Then there was me. Next up was Shaun's brother Jamie. Then there was Missy and Molly, sisters and daughters of my mother's friend. Then Krystopher, Christopher (Shaun and Jamie's youngest brother) and my cousin, Lesley. Out of all of us, Molly and Jamie were the most accident prone. Jamie jumped into the creek once and got glass stuck on the bottom of his foot. But even he could not compare to Molly.
She was the same age as my brother -- you never saw Krystopher without Molly. Molly had no fear. Once she stood next to a fire goofing around, only to fall face first into it. Her mother was fast enough to pull her out. Thank goodness only her bangs were singed. But the worst moment was the hill. There was a gravel road that went all the way through the park, even down this one hill. Molly wanted to go down that hill on her scooter. It was a goal of hers, she was determined to make it. The older kids were far too smart to try something like this, so we played at the sandbar near the lake at the bottom of the hill. Molly dragged her scooter up that hill, planted her foot squarely on it (no helmet). That's about the time a car came up behind her. Now, logically an adult would see a child on a scooter and stop to wait until that child cleared the road. And the car did. But Molly was certain that the car would run her over if she didn't get down that hill fast enough. So she took off down that hill as fast as she could. Sadly enough, the front wheel of her scooter hit a rock and her face smacked into her handlebars, vaulting her over the top and in front of her scooter. Her body then slid down the gravel hill. We all heard the scream. We immediately knew it was Molly. We all ran.
The driver of the car waiting at the top of the hill got out and ran to her. All our parents came upon a crying Molly. You know, that child went down that hill like a ragdoll and the only thing she got was a lost tooth and a few scrapes to the face. Who does that!? Leave it to Molly.
When I think back on all our past adventures, I come to look at my son with a fear greater than any I have known. Because I know with all my heart that if he were to start a mini-gang of his own that he'd end up being the "Molly" of the group. He'd be the one in all the accidents. Still, when I look back, I smile. Maybe I was a little hellion. I miss those days.
(Edit: I have a picture of myself at this resort, but blogger won't let me get it on here!!!!)
That would never be allowed today. So, I am grateful that I got to have my summers basically free to do what I wanted. Yes, I admit that I would never let my own son roam free. If we went somewhere, he would always be in my line of sight. But that was a different time. And being that I was free to roam, I had many an adventure.
Most of the time was spent swimming. If I ever develop skin cancer, I will know why. I almost never had sunblock on, but again, that was a different time. After swimming, we (and when I say we, I mean a group of us kids that had banded together into this tightknit little mini-gang) would go to the playground. I would fashion my beach towel atop my head, go to the highest point of the jungle gym and declare myself princess. For some reason, this was not challenged by anyone within the group. I wonder why I can't seem to get people to recognize this now. Maybe, I've lost my touch.
There were times when other little mini-gangs of kids would try to challenge our hold on the resort. This was unacceptable. Let me regale of the tale of my brother's first bout.
We were at the playground, swinging on the swings. And if you know anything about swings, you know that they are nothing more than child rockets. One has to know how to effectively pump your legs back and forth, so that you swing higher and faster, which makes for a better launch when you let go of the swing altogether. Again, this would never be allowed nowadays.
Another little mini-gang happened to come upon us. As it just so happens, they were the sons of the karate instructor where I took lessons. I knew them. I knew their arrogance. The eldest, Tony, always threatened that his father was a black belt. Big deal, because his father couldn't save him in a fight with me. And he knew that. The youngest, Robert, was the biggest brat this side of the Mississippi. Robert and my brother were both four years old. I was ten at this time. Robert and my brother started fighting over a swing. I told Tony that my brother had had it first. Tony said that we were hogging the swings. While Tony and I debated over who had rights to the swing, Robert and Krystopher started duking it out.
Robert had been trained. Yes, I know he was only four, but the kid knew karate. My brother knew none of this. He only knew that he had had the swing first. I remember this with full clarity. Tony leaned back against a pole with his hands behind his head.
"My brother will kick his butt," he told me.
I looked over at my little bro, worried that he might get hurt. Robert tried to kick Krystopher, but my brother moved out of the way. While my brother was busy dodging the kick, Robert grabbed the swing and defiantly took his throne. Krystopher, not to be outdone, merely walked over and pushed Robert backwards off the swing, where he landed in a rut of dirt. Robert began crying and wailing. Tony threatened to tell on us, but we had our gang, who were all witness to how the fight began and who started it. I told Tony that if he kept threatening people with karate, that these types of things will always happen. If Robert didn't want to get hurt, then he shouldn't have tried to kick my brother. And to tell you the truth, it had been a beautiful kick. The style and form were just lovely, but it never connected to the target, unfortunately for Robert. Tony and Robert left, defeated. Our hold on the swings remained intact.
After that, Tony stopped his "my dad is a blackbelt" rants. For the most part, our groups got along. It could be because his father had a talk with him. It could be that he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Or it could be that he had seen me in one of his father's classes and got scared. Who knows? (One time, while in this class, another kid hit me square on the nose. I got a nosebleed and everything. I wasn't hurt, I was pissed, but my mother made a big deal over it. I pushed her away and demanded back into the sparring match. The kid was much bigger than I was. I did a roundhouse into his stomach, leaving him heaving on the floor. Sweet justice! I had to do fifty pushups for that one, but it was so worth it.)
To tell you the truth, we really didn't fight that much though. Other kids just automatically conceded that it was "our resort". Even the teenagers had a certain amount of respect and would sometimes let us play pool with them. And the adults... well, we knew where to go for all the good stuff. An elderly camper, Evelyn, would always give us gum. She was so sweet. But the greatest of all were Jack and Margaret. We always told her that her name should have been Jill. They let us play cards with them, even teaching us new games. This is where I learned Shanghai Rummi. Don't ever bet money on a game of Shanghai Rummi with me, I have been taught by the best. We sort of adopted them as our secondary grandparents.
The people were great, but our gang was the best. Shaun was the eldest, older than me by a year. We were the best of friends during the summer. Then there was me. Next up was Shaun's brother Jamie. Then there was Missy and Molly, sisters and daughters of my mother's friend. Then Krystopher, Christopher (Shaun and Jamie's youngest brother) and my cousin, Lesley. Out of all of us, Molly and Jamie were the most accident prone. Jamie jumped into the creek once and got glass stuck on the bottom of his foot. But even he could not compare to Molly.
She was the same age as my brother -- you never saw Krystopher without Molly. Molly had no fear. Once she stood next to a fire goofing around, only to fall face first into it. Her mother was fast enough to pull her out. Thank goodness only her bangs were singed. But the worst moment was the hill. There was a gravel road that went all the way through the park, even down this one hill. Molly wanted to go down that hill on her scooter. It was a goal of hers, she was determined to make it. The older kids were far too smart to try something like this, so we played at the sandbar near the lake at the bottom of the hill. Molly dragged her scooter up that hill, planted her foot squarely on it (no helmet). That's about the time a car came up behind her. Now, logically an adult would see a child on a scooter and stop to wait until that child cleared the road. And the car did. But Molly was certain that the car would run her over if she didn't get down that hill fast enough. So she took off down that hill as fast as she could. Sadly enough, the front wheel of her scooter hit a rock and her face smacked into her handlebars, vaulting her over the top and in front of her scooter. Her body then slid down the gravel hill. We all heard the scream. We immediately knew it was Molly. We all ran.
The driver of the car waiting at the top of the hill got out and ran to her. All our parents came upon a crying Molly. You know, that child went down that hill like a ragdoll and the only thing she got was a lost tooth and a few scrapes to the face. Who does that!? Leave it to Molly.
When I think back on all our past adventures, I come to look at my son with a fear greater than any I have known. Because I know with all my heart that if he were to start a mini-gang of his own that he'd end up being the "Molly" of the group. He'd be the one in all the accidents. Still, when I look back, I smile. Maybe I was a little hellion. I miss those days.
(Edit: I have a picture of myself at this resort, but blogger won't let me get it on here!!!!)
posted by Ari at 12:21 PM
3 Comments:
I had some problems with blogger too, but I fought valiantly to post. All for nothing though. No one is interested in finding Charldo.
I think they had a "planned outage".
I missed out, I wish I was in a gang. I would have been the one no one ever seemed to notice.
I used to make it a goal to try and swing over the bar, while I was swinging on a swing set.
What you said about parents back then is true. Once, one of my mom's friends gave me a good whipping.
Great Post by the way.
>>>Forgot to say<<<
"...fashion a beach towel atop my head, go to the highest point of the gungle gym and declare myself princess." I LOVE THIS! So fashion forward, weren't you? Did you have candy bracelets and necklaces, too?
J~
Post a Comment
<< Home