"...Summer Stories"

I'm lately remembering my early life. Back in them cheap gas full employment demented glory days of our now falling empire. That land of tailfins black, and white TV milk delivered in bottles ten cent comic books, and boy scout circle jerks. Our biggest problems were not burning the block down doing a back year Bar-B-Q or setting trees on fire with fireworks. Well that, and Integration, and Nuclear Annihilation. Otherwise we were fine.

Once upon a time,...

"The Great Family Outing" Mom da uncle the kids.

This is how folks traveled back then. Tribal packs. Their expressions are the sort that we all got. When if as one we knew we’d had enough, and wanted to go home. Folks below seeing the big city. I think that’s a ‘52 Pontiac behind them. Not theirs of course.

Only beatniks had convertibles in them days.

My family was like this after a day at Jones Beach.

We got up at 6am were on the road before nine got there close to 10. Stayed all day. Often till after the fireworks at dusk. The long drive home. We'd wake as dad pulled up in front of the house. I remember being carried in to bed.

"Play Ball!" My dad loved the Brooklyn Dodgers. 

When they left he became a Mets fan like most Dodger folks did. I mean the idea of joining up with the Yankee’s was,…well it just wasn’t done. The Dodgers was where dad, and I bonded. The one thing we could speak about through the rest of his life. 

I remember he took me, and my now late brother John to Ebbits Field. This when I was little to the games. We lived somewhat close. I so remember playing in our back yard. Digging in the dirt playing with matchbox toy trucks. 

In the distance I’d would hear a faint roar carried on the wind down Empire Blvd. from the Fields. It was the Dodgers getting a guy on first. Meanwhile inside I hear my dad clapping as he listened to the play on the radio.