"There are places I remember all my life though some have changed, Some forever, not for better- some have gone and some remain."
The Beatles

I remember the joys of playing with friends and somehow gaining or losing a few as the summer breeze edged through the days.
This chair remembers the stories my Grandmother used to tell as we sat and rocked the hours away on a hot summer night.
Each week held a different imaginary friend when you couldn't own or sometimes find your own.
We went to the park once a week and listened to evening bands playing John Philip Sousa while my father sat inches away, drumming his fingers on a paint peeled bench.
Before the Internet, we built playhouses and weird things in trees from odd lumber and other things people did not want.
On Friday nights we all went to the Drive-In on a hot summer night in Richford, Vermont. My sister and I spied on teenagers kissing in cars and cried during Bambi and Old Yeller.

When I was 9 I began to create ghost stories and typed them up on my Grandfather's old typewriter. I made copies with carbon paper that left black fingerprints everywhere, and then he read them and corrected my spelling.
We used to go to the corner store to buy a cold Orange Crush and when we walked by the local haunted house we dared friends to go look inside the windows.
Some days we walked down railroad tracks and listened to our echos in the tunnel and felt the vibrations of a train coming down the tracks and then ran as fast as we could.

On very hot humid days our neighbour would come out with a huge enamel white bowl trimmed in red filled with cut cold oranges for us to eat.
After dinner we would drive down the country roads with the car windows wide open. Our ears would be glued to WABC on the radio as we could only listen to "Cousin Brucie" when the radio waves were stronger at night.
We played cowboys and indians and bought red caps for our guns to "shoot" our friends with. We never once thought it was politcally incorrect.
Some days we used to go to the river and search for polliwogs and minnows to put in empty jam or jelly jars. After we caught them we made holes in the lid so they could breathe; but they always ended up dying.

Some afternoons we would sit on the sidewalk eating popsicles or ice cream and then save the sticks to build houses for the small toys we got in the Crackerjack box.
The dark clouds of a summer storm used to roar in after a hot summer day and heat lightening would light up the sky for hours.
We played toss games and met friends at the small carnivals that came through town and wished we could join the carnies and tour the land.
The Shriner summer parades would always come through town and the oversized clowns scared you in their little cars.
My friends and I climbed trees and got fresh air instead of sitting inside and playing video games. Years ago my son asked me what we did before Nintendo and I remembered, but he just didn't seem to get it when I told him.
I used to hate that my birthday was in the summer and remember a picnic table with a huge cake under the old apple tree that is now gone. As Helen Hayes once said, "Childhood is a short season", but still now in my life I remember it all."
All photos by Linda Seccaspina
In memory of Andy Griffith who made me remember it all yesterday.
48 years ago yesterday I had Beatle tickets in my hand for their August 22 1964 appearance.
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Comments
Kevin.. I think we all do no matter how old we are.
Thanks Tink!!
Rugrat.. the sun was in my eyes and I had no idea until I processed it.. as they say it was a lucky shot hahaha
Jmac.. I dont think we had that haha
Marty. 5 cents for a box of caps.. bang bang hahah
This brings back so many wonderful memories! R and hugs.
"He just didn't seem to get it when I told him." Can I ever relate.
How was the Beatles concert? Could you hear through the screaming? PA systems weren't very good back then for really large venues.
Funny thing about Andy Griffith:
I was traveling for a few days. It was early evening on July 3. I'd picked up my wife and daughter and we were heading home. I was on the Pilot Mountain Parkway, and I looked up to see Pilot Mountain, which is really striking, and after which Mount Pilot is named in the Andy of Mayberry series. Close by was Mount Airy, where I've never been but which was the prototype for Mayberry. I was wondering to myself if there were any pictures of And Griffith as a young man up near Pilot Mountain when my wife looks up from her IPhone and says, "Andy died." He'd still lived in state, though out near the beach on Roanoke Island. (I'm nothing like a native - I've lived here half a dozen years. Love it here, by the way.)
It was such an oddly spooky way to find out.
So now I'm looking for someone else who can whistle. I can actually do the harmony line. If you have to ask "Harmony line to what?" you're either not thinking or don't know much about Andy Griffith.
(I'm almost precisely Ron Howard's age. I never called my father "Paw." I'm willing to bet Ron didn't either.)
Schmoopie.. me too. I have played it at least 15 times today.
JLS_ ya never peeked?
Algis- Young or old there are still things we did together
Alysa: HUGGGGGGGG my friend
Chicken Maan- These kids have lost out today I tell you
Lea- Everyone was away and ya have 2-3 to help celebrate..:)
Scanner- this is my fave song
Thanks Jon
Zuma- If you made it up.. I did use a ladder..:)
Kosher- I actually touched Paul M's hair and it is a chapter in my book
Andy Griffith was buried within 6 hours of his death on his property in Roanoke. I think Ron probably thought of him as a son but you're right.. never called him Paw!!
When I did a blog for him I cold not stop whistling all day long..:)
Lezlie
Lezlie.. Memories as they sang in cats
Designantor.. so cool to hear radio from NYC hahaha
Thanks Caroline
Maureen or barefoot in the grass??:)
I love doing band concerts in the parks whenever I can. It's like re-creating a slice of an idyllic childhood. People still bring their kids. Passing it forward.
Thanks R
Can you imagine this post in 30 years? "I spent the summer on Twitter and sending my friends texts." I just can't imagine it although perhaps our parents thought the same thing about the tiny (6"x3"x1 1/2") transistor radios we played incessantly.