A Summer State of Mind

I’ve spent the past two weeks loafing and languishing, enjoying the freedom of summer—which is odd since summer offers me no more freedom than any other season. Having lived the better part of my life tied to the school calendar, I find that remembrances of summers past are too strong to ignore. When school’s out, the pool’s open, and the temperatures soar, I feel liberated from all things remotely suggesting work and obligation.

I lie by the pool as if I have nothing to do and nowhere to be. When I’m hungry I eat; when I’m sleepy I nap. I succumb to the lure of a good book—during the day—a pleasure I usually postpone until bedtime. I watch chic flicks or “All My Children” with no thought given to the dust bunnies collecting in the corners or spider webs in cracks and crannies.

Summer is an attitude formed in childhood when the mind is still malleable. Parents continue with their year-round drudgery allowing the kids to operate on a more flexible schedule with less supervision. Bed times are extended, rules are broken. Imaginations run as wild as the barefoot children free to roam as far as their legs or bikes will carry them.

Adolescent summers. Days at the pool, the smells of chlorine, and suntan lotion, and hamburgers sizzling on the concession stand grill. Basking on wooden lounges, the sun beating down on yet-to-be damaged skin, head on my arms, noises in the distance of cannon-balls and can-openers, and life-guard whistles accompanied by shouts of “No running” and “Stay off the rope.” I’m about to drift off when a teenaged admirer seeking attention dumps a hatful of icy water over my sun-baked back.

A day at the pool is followed by a baking soda bath, a splash of Jean Nate, and sun dress chosen to show off the newly tanned skin. The boyfriend arrives driving his dad’s ’62 Bonneville. Destination—the “Dog ‘N Suds” for root beer in an icy mug delivered by a car hop.

The memories are so thoroughly assimilated that all these years later summer still holds the promise of romance and the possibility of adventure. When the thermometer rises and the aroma of Coppertone fills the air, I ignore self-imposed regulations and surrender to the summer state of mind.

Now my adventures take a milder form. I no longer swim in the forbidden shale pits or flirt with bad boys in fast cars. Tossing caution to the wind, I indulge myself in a racy movie, a late night swim, potato chips without a picnic, chocolate for breakfast--the forbidden fruits of adulthood. I haven’t donned a bikini yet or attempted a half-gainer from the diving board—but summer’s not over.