Summer Vacation By Kate Emery General

Most K-12 schools are now in session for 180 days a year. Schools in Colonial times were a year round event, even as late as 1841, schools in Boston and Philadelphia were having classes 240-250 days a year. While the length of the school year is relatively consistent across the states today, there were wide variations in the early 19th century. At that time, schools in cities were typically open year round while schools in rural areas had two terms, one in winter and another in summer. Schools in rural districts had far fewer days of class than those in the cities. Children took time off in the fall for harvesting and in the spring for planting.

There was a time when summer meant the freedom of running loose. School was dismissed for the summer on the Friday before Memorial Day, my friends and I would almost run home carrying a brown grocery bag full of notebooks, broken crayons, and pencils. In the late 1960’s, long before specialized camps, hyper-scheduling, and the internet, kids like me managed to have lots of fun.

The distinctive smell of Coppertone or Sea and Ski suntan lotion being lathered on by my Mom at the beach is a summer vacation memory. Sand would stick to the thick and oily lotion that wasn’t effectively rubbed into the skin. Most children in the 1960’s and ‘70’s remember the cooling effect of Solarcaine being applied to sunburned shoulders and noses that resisted the suntan lotion. I am lucky to have many wonderful summer vacation memories with my family through the years but my favorite are the lazy days spent with friends.

These days is takes a lot of planning to get a child to a play date, but in the ‘60’s you just shouted goodbye after breakfast to your Mom as you went out the door and hopped on your bike, no helmet or shoes required. Our bikes were equipped with baskets for towels, sneakers, and tennis rackets. Playing cards were attached with clothespins to the spokes for a cool motorcycle sound.

There were water fountains at the park or hoses if you got thirsty, no water bottles. My parents had a charge account at Fred’s, a local grocery, and we had permission to get a snack there. Our favorites were Red Vines, candy cigarettes, bubblegum cigars, Sugar Babies, or a Big Hunk bar. The sugar rush from the candy sustained us during our morning excursions. We’d stop at one of the wading pools on our way to the tennis court, walking in the water to cool off. After tennis, we would check the creek for Water striders, fascinating insects that appear to “walk” on water. When it got really hot and we were hungry, we’d head home for lunch.

Afternoon reading for an hour was a Mom rule that I loved. Mom would take us to the local bookstore or the library once a week to select a book, two of my favorites were Harriet the Spy and Eight Cousins.

After our “rest period,” we’d ride our bikes to the pool (over three miles from our house), the lifeguards were our babysitters. Having taken swimming lessons at the local YMCA, we were able to pass the test for swimming in the “deep end.” We would spend most of the afternoon in the pool, diving, having underwater tea parties, perfecting our handstands, and playing Marco Polo. My older brother and his friends were always getting kicked out of the pool for doing cannonballs off of the high dive. Mom gave me money that went in my green squeeze coin purse for the soda machine (7UP or Orange Crush were my drink of choice) and to play Putt Putt golf.

Dinner was at 6:30, our parents who never really knew where we were all day, would listen to us tell of the day’s exploits. It was back outside after dinner to explore our favorite sledding hill, Deadhorse Hill in search of Horned Lizards, we called them, “horney toads.” The lizards, with their camouflaged bodies, were fond of hiding in the sagebrush or the yucca that grew wild on the hill. The “toads” would sit quietly in our hands for a second then jump and run. The soft dirt from running up and sliding down the hill would turn our bare feet a reddish brown.

Now and then, after dinner, our neighbor would drive us to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone. We would pile into his Volkswagen Beetle, standing on the back seat like sardines, so that we could hang out of the sunroof.

We’d play hide and seek with the neighborhood kids until it got so dark that the fireflies would be flying about, our mothers yelling for us to come in.

Some nights our daily bath was considered the hours spent in the chlorine at the pool, my blonde hair developing a shiny green tinge in summer. Our calloused feet were washed by spraying the garden hose on each other. Calamine was applied to random mosquito bites. After putting on our summer pajamas and brushing our teeth, Mom or Dad would read Swiss Family Robinson or Gulliver’s travels to us in our beds. We’d fall asleep with the anticipation of another perfect day of play ahead of us.

“I live for summer.” – Sandra Boynton