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At the age of 86, Joe MacDougald can still remember vivid moments from his childhood summers in Rumford, R.I.
"There were hikes up the railroad tracks through the woods, making slingshots from tree forks, and whistles from willow branches," he told me recently at St. Petersburg's Sunshine Center, a community center for older adults. "We dug up the rotten railroad ties to find snakes and snake eggs."
"At night my father read us The Last of the Mohicans," he continued. "When we read, we sat in circles because Indian stories had to be told in a circle."
Johnny Hylen remembers playing hopscotch and making animals and dolls out of pine cones during childhood summers in Falun, Sweden. But the 81-year-old, who now lives in Pinellas Park, said the best day of summer occurred on Aug. 7.
"That was the day you could go crawfishing," Hylen said. "We'd go put bait in the net and put it out in the water in the dark. Then we'd go back and pull it in. We would have a big copper kettle on a stove with salty water and lots of dill to boil it in. Everybody was looking forward to that day."
Lynn Green, who grew up in St. Petersburg, spent many days in the woods building forts and playing at the beach. But Green, who now lives in Mobile, Ala., remembers one trademark of her summers past, living on Park Street where the streetcar route ended.
"We'd meet the streetcar, and the conductor would let us get on and ride with him for about a half a mile," she told me. "Then, when we got to the end of the streetcar track, we'd turn the seats around for him, so they'd be facing the right way when it was headed back to town."
Today's newspapers are full of family vacation destinations around the country. Disney World and other theme parks in Orlando are relentlessly trying to lure us with television, newspaper and magazine ads. But talk with your own parents or other older adults, and you'll be reminded that summer isn't all about big trips or thrill-a-minute camps. It's about freedom from school. Freedom from homework. Freedom from an alarm clock. Freedom from shoes.
It's about little things - certain games, foods, family rituals - that seem to occur only during hot summers, when days are longer and bedtimes are later. Thumb through the memories of your own childhood summers. You'll probably realize a lot of your favorite times were when you made your own fun as you went along.
When I think back, the first image that pops into my mind is of 15 neighborhood kids playing carport dodge ball; red rover, red rover; kickball and four square for hours at a time. Most nights after supper, my sister and I would meet the crowd across the street at David Lynch's house.
At dusk it was time for hide-and-seek with a flashlight using his front porch for base. We played charades and caught lightning bugs. Then, one by one, our parents would come out in the darkness and whistle their signature whistles to call us in for bed. The next day we did it all over again.
Only once did we stage a play in the Lynches' carport. David's older sister, Laura, wrote the script, which included melodramatic lines for each of us, ages 6 to 14, and a murder victim complete with ketchup for blood. Our parents brought their own popcorn and watched while sitting in lawn chairs we lined up in the driveway.
One reader e-mailed me last year to tell me one of his favorite summer pastimes. One of the rooms in his house had a slanted floor. He spent hours making intricate tracks, mazes and jumps for marble races across the room.
Other members of the writers group at the Sunshine Center also shared memories.
"We'd spin tops, play hoops and skip rope," said 83-year-old Joyce Brooks, who grew up in London. "It wasn't until I was about 12 that I ever went to the movies. Then when I was about 14 I went to work for a living."
Virgie Learn told me: "I remember we walked across town to a swimming hole a couple of miles away. We'd swim, then walk back. By the time you got back, you were just as hot as when you left."
Sandy Stevens, 63, remembered: "We'd put a blanket up for a curtain and make up shows. We'd produce plays and do baton twirling. When my sister and I first came to Florida, before we met anybody, we'd play canasta for 10 hours a day."
Many of the people I talked to remarked in some fashion that they made their own fun. They didn't go to camp or Disney World. And they didn't have a mother hovering over them with a magazine full of kids' craft projects.
Unfortunately summer can't come with as much sheer freedom today. When both parents work, kids go to camp or day care. There are many more safety concerns. We can't send our children off on their own for hours at a time. But we can send them off on their own in our back yards or in their rooms. If they are in camps during the week, we don't have to compensate with structured family activities on the weekends.
It's okay to have boring summer days. It's on those boring days when kids, free from the requirements of school, will make up plays, act out stories with stuffed animals, sell mud hamburgers on the sidewalk, construct paper airplanes, develop constantly evolving versions of tag and do one hundred other simple, fun things.
Richard Learn grew up on a river in Laceyville, Pa. He and his friends went out in rowboats and threw buckets of water at each other until somebody sank.
"We used to catch lightning bugs and put them in a jar. We'd catch water dogs . . . a really big salamander," he recalled. "Then the war came in 1941, and that ended childhood."
Whether it involves war, the need to work or growing up early because of influences from the Internet, television, the media or friends, childhood usually ends too soon. So make sure kids are kids while they can be. That's what summer's for.
- You can reach Katherine Snow Smith by e-mail at snowsmith@verizon.net or write Rookie Mom, St. Petersburg Times, P.O. Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731.