Lazy, Hazy Daze
Roll ‘em out, those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. I’m not a big fan of summer. It’s hot and sticky and it drains me of energy. It’s the old stand-by: it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. That’s true I guess. I’ve been to Mexico in 110 degree heat and it didn’t affect me nearly as much as 80 and humid here.
But I’m not so old that I can’t remember when I enjoyed summer. It was before the days of air-conditioning, when you got a tall glass of Kool-Aid with ice and sat under the nearest tree to cool off. I usually had a book in hand. My mind’s eye sees me sitting there; balancing the glass of Kool-Aid in a tuft of grass, and feeling a slight breeze ruffle the pages of my book. It was a lazy time, when the cares of the world had yet to descend.
I can remember looking up, through the leaves, watching them sway and being fascinated by the patterns they made against the deep blue sky. I remember the sky being a darker blue when I was a kid. I don’t think that’s my imagination; I think there is a constant haze of pollution we’re looking through now, even on the clearest days. When you lay on the grass back then, looking straight up, the sky seemed almost black it was so intensely blue. I miss those days.
Cloud sculptures were a popular pastime when I was younger. Remember looking up at the cumulus clouds (the big puffy kind) and seeing dragons, rabbits and faces in them? Then right before your eyes they would morph into something completely different. Why don’t we take time to fanaticize with the clouds anymore?
The lake was always a welcome relief to the summer heat. That was back in the days when you could actually, legally, get down to Ripley Beach. What did we know of sandy beaches and clear waters when we were kids? The beach was mostly shale rock, like it is today. Finding a spot to build a sand castle was a real treat. The lake was occasionally clear, allowing us to see the rocks below; but more often than not, it was a murky brown, hiding it’s booby-traps of boulders to stumble on and mucky, slimy patches of seaweed to step into. The lake also had a goodly supply of dead fish floating around, back in the days when industrial waste and sewers were freely dumped in the Great Lakes. We wouldn’t dream of entering such waters now, with E. coli and such; but back then, we simple splashed the dead fish out of the way and continued on. “Them was the good ol’ days.”
I don’t care much about swimming in the lake these days, and I’m more apt to sit in the air-conditioned house with my book than under a tree. But I haven’t given up on summer entirely. My goal now is to have an old fashioned swing hung from an accommodating tree branch, so I can leisurely sway with the breeze, watching the clouds go by.
Roll ‘em out, those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. I’m not a big fan of summer. It’s hot and sticky and it drains me of energy. It’s the old stand-by: it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. That’s true I guess. I’ve been to Mexico in 110 degree heat and it didn’t affect me nearly as much as 80 and humid here.
But I’m not so old that I can’t remember when I enjoyed summer. It was before the days of air-conditioning, when you got a tall glass of Kool-Aid with ice and sat under the nearest tree to cool off. I usually had a book in hand. My mind’s eye sees me sitting there; balancing the glass of Kool-Aid in a tuft of grass, and feeling a slight breeze ruffle the pages of my book. It was a lazy time, when the cares of the world had yet to descend.
I can remember looking up, through the leaves, watching them sway and being fascinated by the patterns they made against the deep blue sky. I remember the sky being a darker blue when I was a kid. I don’t think that’s my imagination; I think there is a constant haze of pollution we’re looking through now, even on the clearest days. When you lay on the grass back then, looking straight up, the sky seemed almost black it was so intensely blue. I miss those days.
Cloud sculptures were a popular pastime when I was younger. Remember looking up at the cumulus clouds (the big puffy kind) and seeing dragons, rabbits and faces in them? Then right before your eyes they would morph into something completely different. Why don’t we take time to fanaticize with the clouds anymore?
The lake was always a welcome relief to the summer heat. That was back in the days when you could actually, legally, get down to Ripley Beach. What did we know of sandy beaches and clear waters when we were kids? The beach was mostly shale rock, like it is today. Finding a spot to build a sand castle was a real treat. The lake was occasionally clear, allowing us to see the rocks below; but more often than not, it was a murky brown, hiding it’s booby-traps of boulders to stumble on and mucky, slimy patches of seaweed to step into. The lake also had a goodly supply of dead fish floating around, back in the days when industrial waste and sewers were freely dumped in the Great Lakes. We wouldn’t dream of entering such waters now, with E. coli and such; but back then, we simple splashed the dead fish out of the way and continued on. “Them was the good ol’ days.”
I don’t care much about swimming in the lake these days, and I’m more apt to sit in the air-conditioned house with my book than under a tree. But I haven’t given up on summer entirely. My goal now is to have an old fashioned swing hung from an accommodating tree branch, so I can leisurely sway with the breeze, watching the clouds go by.
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