Summer (A Eulogy)

Of course I was a total badass when I was a kid. I mean, look at me now. When I was in kindergarten, I rounded my friends up into this gang, and we would have really wreaked havoc on the playground if we hadn’t gotten sidelined by a debate on the pros and cons of using formal parliamentary procedure to conduct our meetings.
Come to think of it, it was more of a club than a gang. But I was president and the dues were only a nickel.
Anyway, summer was awesome ‘cause me and the posse could really let loose (in an orderly fashion.) And summer meant softball and sno-cones.To get to the game, you have to take the Ballpark Road. It’s narrow, and potholed, and navigating oncoming traffic is tricky. One of you has to stop and let the other scoot past. It’s courtly driving. At night, it is nearly impossible to do without getting into a wreck or a fight. I’ve had a lot of people curse me out on that street because they thought I was being a jerk, and most of the time they were wrong.
At the end of the road is the Park. And it is a Beaut. (Next time I go home, I’ll take pictures of all these things.) It was built by my little brother’s best friend’s uncle, so I cannot in all fairness be called an unbiased reviewer, but you can tell that it’s been lived in, y’know?
Anyway, I played softball (slow pitch AND fast pitch) there, and I also watched my little brother go from tee-ball* to baseball at the same field. The park also has a gigantic swing set on which I Very Bravely swung standing up for the first time and for several times afterward (I do not remember the exact number but it was a lot.)
I should point out that when a person undertakes that particular swinging position, she picks up a great deal of air speed velocity, and can go very high, thus risking the Fabled Ballpark Flip (wherein the swing flips completely over the swing set and the person standing in the swing, I don’t know, probably DIES or something) AND, it’s also really really hard to stop swinging when you’re stand-swinging.
You should have all the facts before you attempt this daring maneuver.

On the way back from the park, we stopped at the Sno-Cone Stand. Our stand was in front of the Superette. It’s a little shack made of wood, boarded up most of the year. It opens the day after school lets out and shuts down the day classes start. The good cones are the kinds with the soft ice. The bad ones are blocky. If your straw meets too much resistance, you’ve got a bad one.
If you had a blind date in the summer, it wasn’t a bad idea to swing by the sno-cone stand to get a read on him. You can tell a person’s character by his sno-cone flavor, and can reveal your own by what you order at the stand. I have provided a key to some of the more popular orders below:




Sour Apple – Easy Going
Wedding Cake – Cheerleader
Watermelon, Cherry – Acceptable
Tutti Frutti – Why are you dating your mother, pervert?
Pineapple – Frank Gehry Lover

Extra Juice goes without saying.


*The “pretend pitch” in tee-ball is probably one of the most devastating moments in a father’s life. Like realizing you’re in love and being powerless to stop it.

(baby in sno-cone stand photo copyright John Stevenson)