Tomorrow’s story is a sequel to “Lights in the Sky,” which I posted several weeks ago.
The street I grew up on was loaded with kids my age. I always thought of myself as a shy child, a follower and not a leader, but thinking back on my childhood I realize that as often as not I was the instigator of our escapades. I don’t know if my friends were just bored trying to think of new things to do on long summer days, or if I really was more persuasive than I remember, but the truth is I did manage to inveigle the other kids on the block into participating in some of my wilder schemes.
This was an era of stay-at-home moms, and their only respite from childcare duties during the summer was to kick us out of the house and let us roam, with the sole instruction to be home by suppertime. We traveled in packs, playing baseball, kickball, hopscotch and Cowboys and Indians, making forts and doing whatever we could to fill the hours until it was time to go home for the evening. Mom would always have a giant glass of iced tea ready for Linda and me, which we would gulp down in seconds after a day baking in the heat.
The next story is about one of my particularly absurd capers, which accomplished nothing other than whiling away several midsummer afternoons, and it was essentially harmless, unless you think broiling in the Texas sun in July for no good reason might cause heatstroke.
Happily, none of us suffered anything more than wasted time, which was the basically the entire point of many of our summer adventures.