Butterflies and striped yellow bumblebees, hollyhocks and purple clover. At night, fireflies and stars galore. We tromped through the bushes and weeds, no fear of ticks or Lyme disease... just lazy, hazy days of summer. Hot and thick with humidity. I miss those carefree, outside days. I miss them for me and I miss them for my grandsons. So many worries to think about these days but summer will always be special if we look to nature and our own ability to slow down and grasp whatever this good earth presents to us.
I grew up in a city, Salem Massachusetts. It was not a big city like Boston or New York. The early days for me were in the 1950s. We lived on concrete streets and sidewalks, some of us fortunate to have a small back yard. No sprawling land, no big trees in our yards. Defiantly no swimming pools. If you were lucky your Mom would plant a rose bush and maybe a little lilac bush. No flowers, except for the wild ones in the fields that belonged to everyone. I do remember though that we had green and white hosta bordering our yard. I remember my mom loved to go out and take care of the yard. She passed that gift along to my oldest brother. Me, not so much. I was the one who liked to catch the bugs and bees and put them in a jar, I'd make some holes in the cover with a nail I probably found on the ground and kept them under our tiny back porch, the little porch that my grandmother had an old kitchen chair on to sit and watch us in the yard and also to hang the laundry on that old pulley line. I never kept the bugs there long enough for them to die, I just kept them to by my friends for the few hours.
I walked to my old neighborhood recently. It has changed a lot since I played on those streets but some things are very much the same. The old field down by the train tracks with its wildflowers and a peek at the ocean. We could not get in the water from there but it was a nice hiding place when you didn't want to be found. I stopped there and to my surprise, I meet an older man, I looked at him and he looked at me and probably both of us thinking "what is she/he doing here." We did strike up a conversation and had a wonderful chat about the old days. He knew my Uncle and it was "it's a small world isn't it" experience. He said he liked to go down to the fields and just check things out. I think it was what he did to fill some time during his day. I walked away from him happy for the experience of sharing those long-ago memories and the old neighbors with him.
My neighborhood was a walking neighborhood. It's a good thing because back in the '50s if you were lucky enough to have a car, you only had one. Since my Dad was in the Military, we didn't have a car because my Mom couldn't drive. We tried to teach her once but she almost put me through the windshield from the back seat, so we walked everywhere and we didn't think anything of it. We could walk all the way to the Willows in the summer just by following the railroad tracks, and yes we did walk on them...I remember lots of times jumping out of the way of a train coming down the tracks. I thought that was great fun and quite a challenge. We played outside all day long either with friends or by ourselves. I don't even think we were allowed to go into the house except for lunch or to the bathroom. So we learned early on how to navigate the streets, the fields, the playground, and the beach. That is where we spent our summer days.
The beach saved me. It was my favorite place to be. The Collins Cove...a tiny inlet from the ocean. No lifeguard, no problem. We knew the ebb and flow of the tide and on those hot, steamy cement sidewalk days, we would plan accordingly. Low tide in the morning, I'd go to the park. My favorite activity was making things with gimp. Do you remember gimp? I got really good at it. I made a ton of bracelets and necklaces. I liked making the squares. Perhaps those early gimp days are why I now like to knit. It's a peaceful feel to be using one’s hands to create something fun or pretty. Then we would play a game of squash ball, only girls, on the baseball diamond. That's where you have a big white ball about the size of a small basketball and you ran the bases like you did in baseball but you hit the ball with the side of your wrist instead of a bat. You don't see that game played anymore but boy was that fun and your arm didn't hurt if you hit the ball with the right part of the wrist.
Noon-time I would head home. My house was literally a five-minute walk from the park and the beach. I'd make a sandwich of either peanut butter, or sugar and butter. I know, it sounds gross but back in the day when the funds were low at the end of the week, as they most often were, you would spread two pieces of white bread, homemade by my grandmother every Tuesday, with butter and sprinkle sugar on it and that was lunch. We never had any fresh fruit back then and I'm thinking my drink of the day was water. It was just how it was and I didn't notice being different because in my neighborhood everyone was in the same situation. I had three brothers and even if there was something good I would be hard-pressed to beat them to get it. After lunch, I would head to the beach. I think my grandmother would give me an old sheet or something to take as a beach blanket and I'd grab my doll, Debbie, if I pushed her stomach she would say Mama and she had red curly bangs, and off we would go for the afternoon. My Mom worked at the local drug store, The Bridge St. Pharmacy, as a clerk, until 3 in the afternoon, and my grandmother was in charge. I think she was just happy to see us all outside. She was a very no-nonsense person. You know on rainy summer days I can't even remember what we did. I know we would have still gone to the park though and if we got wet...well that was the way it was. It was probably on those rainy days that I sat under the porch with my bugs.
This is my little bit of beach. This is where I went every day in the summer. My haven from sometimes a very hard life. No lifeguard, no one looking for me. No one ever worried about something happening to us kids. I'd swim and play with my dolls, sometimes bringing her outfits to change her clothes. I'd talk to her like she was my best friend. I make her take a nap and I'd feed her. Those early days were lonely sometimes unless my friend came down. The beach though broke it all up. I loved being in the water and watching the tide roll in and out. This photo above is much different looking than the beach when I was young...If anyone doesn't believe in global warming this is a prime example of the changes that have occurred over a period of time. When I was little this was a real beach with lots of sand and the water line was way below this mark. There was plenty of room on this beach for families and kids, blankets and toys, running in and out of the water. There are two sides to the beach separated by that set of stairs in the middle. This side was closest to my street and it was the cleanest side. Everyone wanted this side. Not so much anymore because as you can see, from the bottom of the steps to the wall, there is very little sand for spreading a blanket at high tide. It's also not the kind of beach where you can walk out when the tide is low. It's a mud pit with flats where we used to dig for clams for dinner. Yes, my Mom and us four kids would take our buckets and go dig for clams. That is what you call fresh. It is so sad to see the beach disappear. At the end of the day, I would pack up my stuff and walk home, being very sure not to drag any sand in the house or I would never hear the end of it. Basically, my summer days followed this daily pattern.
The summer also had some special events that we always looked forward to. It was very different than today where so much is going on you can hardly keep up. Good times and special events were few and far between so we always looked forward to them with great excitement. At the end of the school year, the Willows would have a Read Fund Picnic for all the grammar school kids. We would get a ticket for a ride of our choice, a hot dog, a bag of chips, a drink and I even think we got a hoodsie cup. Do you remember those? They came with a little wooden spoon that felt really bad on your teeth and tongue. To have your own bag of chips was like a wish come true. I waited all year for the Read Fund picnic. The next big event was a party in the park put on by the Mothers and Grandmothers of the neighborhood. The Annual Lawn Party. All the men would set up booths with games and prizes. My favorite was trying to win a goldfish by getting the ping pong ball in the little fishbowl. Usually, between me and my brothers, we would walk home with four of those fish and the bowls. Unfortunately, they never lived long. I always wondered if it was because they sat out in the sun all day and boiled in that water. There were booths of homemade cakes, cookies, pies, hot dogs, baked beans, maybe potato salad, popcorn, and watermelon...a virtual feast. Money for this event was raised by the Collins Cove Woman's Club all summer long by selling tickets with a promise of a door prize. All the food was donated by the ladies. My Mom and Grandmother baked and cooked for days. Can you imagine that happening today? You can't even give someone a cookie without checking with the health department first. I'm pretty sure every Ward in Salem had a Lawn Party for their kids also. It was a happy day. No one was mad, sad, or fighting. My Mom dressed us up and my grandmother was just as proud as punch to bring her home-cooked food to the event. It is what our neighborhoods were all about. If only, it could be like that every day...not the event, but that kind spirit and everyone is just as jovial and friendly as could be. That is what summer does for you though after a long winter inside...It gives you hope and renewal and a warm fuzzy feeling in your heart. Neighbors meeting each other and working side by side for the good of the kids. Such great memories.
The last event of the summer, the one that took so long to come was the Park Outing...this was big. We got to ride in the buses to an amusement park...Most of the time it was at Nantasket beach, a two-hour drive, but once in a while, it was Canobie Lake Park, also two hours away. Can you imagine, no iPhone or iPad. Just you and your friends on the bus. Lots of chatter and plans and "what's your favorite ride, which one are you going on first, I'll meet you there." My favorite summer day. We would start out very early in the morning...I don't think I slept a wink the night before...it was always hot and I was ready to go. We wore our shorts and sneakers and clean shirts, my mom had a thing about us always being neat and clean, we came home a mess. There were adults as supervisors and we always had at least two school buses full of kids, sometimes three. My brother tells me that we got money for this trip from the park program, but I do know that if we wanted extra spending money we had to earn it ourselves. There wasn't a parent in the neighborhood who had extra money for such nonsense, as my grandmother would say. I remember all during the summer if we didn't behave the threat of not going on the outing was constant...some years I really didn't think a few of us in my family were going to get to go but we always did. Sad that those kinds of events or even park programs aren't available now. We would meet our friends there and ride those big rides all day long...hot and sweaty, it didn't matter. The thrill of being out, running from ride to ride, eating junk food all day long, and then the long ride home feeling good about the day but also feeling a bit melancholy about the fact that summer was almost officially over.
Those were the days...do we all feel that way? You know when I was growing up we were very poor. My Dad was hardly ever home and when he was it wasn't always pleasant but somehow as kids, we find the good most of the time...even in sad times. For the most part, I would put whatever was happening in the back of my mind and find the good stuff and the happy stuff. I learned, early on to use humor to block out what I didn't want to look at and it saved me most of the time. Summer though, was always good, for the most part. When you live near the ocean you don't really need much more. If you have a park program where you meet friends that makes each day exciting and if you tote a book to the beach and read, that’s a mini-vacation right there. Mostly though, if you live in a neighborhood you are never alone or different. Everyone in the neighborhood is usually in the same boat. The best though was being outside. In a field, at a beach, in the park. Space to breathe. Time of your own.
Looking back there were days when growing up that I was glad to leave behind and move on. Salem was a city I couldn't wait to get out of. I had no idea where I was going or how I was going to do that but eventually, I did. Which brings me to where I am today...I live in a small town, more rural and we have built a good life. My parents and two of my brothers are gone now. Lately, I've been revisiting Salem and the streets that I roamed as a young girl and my memories of those times have changed. I know now that I would not have wanted to walk in my Mother's shoes. I see how life is today for kids, and I say to myself...I wish they could have the same freedoms that I had. I never worried about being outside. I was never afraid to walk the streets alone. When we got older and had bikes we road them everywhere. As long as I got home before the street lights went on I was good. It was harder in many ways but there was such joy built into those hollyhock, sweet-smelling roses and bumblebee days. I think as I grew I started to appreciate that no ones life is perfect but if you look deep enough you can find an abundance of happiness when Mother Nature is your best friend...Happy Summer even in coronavirus days...go out and find your own joy.
““There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.”
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