young friends would come over to play with me and my sister in the sand, sometimes pushing toy trucks through the sand and sometimes making sandcastles with little buckets and water from the garden hose. Yes, we also drank from the hose, which aided in strengthening our resistance to disease later in life.
BOYS OF SUMMER
by Craig Ruhl
Today is the first day of June, a bright sunny North Carolina kind of day. The first day of summer is not for another nineteen days, but I can feel the promise of those lazy warm days wafting across the patio on a gentle breeze. This year will mark my seventy-third summer. As I reminisce on summers past, I also look forward to many more to come although they will feel different from those of my childhood. My earliest memories of summer are of days filled with childhood outdoor play with neighborhood friends. Mom would shoo my sister and me outdoors as soon as breakfast was over. The family house that I first recall was in a housing tract, or subdivision as some would call it. Our house was a single story on a tree-lined street with a sidewalk and a concrete driveway. On the side of the house sat a large wooden sandbox with bench seats across the corners. My dad rigged an umbrella over the play area to provide a bit of shade. We could lower it to cover and protect the sandbox from rain, snow, and the neighbor’s cat who liked to use it as a litter box. It developed our immune systems early, playing in that sand. Several of my 12 | M AG AEVERY Z I N E N ACORNER ME FAITH ON
Dad worked as an engineer in the aeronautical industry, which caused us to move every four years, depending on which aircraft company had a new contract. By the time I was in grade school, we were living in a town on the border between Kansas and Missouri. Summers in that location were blistering hot. One feature of midwestern summers that has stuck in my memory was how parched that yard would get in the summer. Enormous cracks in the ground would open, large enough to lose a toy soldier while my friends and I lined our armies up to fight. We stayed outdoors all day, only going inside to use the bathroom. Okay, to be honest, being a boy, I sometimes would just go behind the shrub bush at the back of the house. As the sun moved across the sky, we would shift our play area to take advantage of the cooling protection of the shade along a side of the house. Mom would come out at lunchtime with sandwiches, milk, and a cookie. Often, she would spread a blanket in the shade and join us kids for a picnic. I am sure she welcomed a chance to escape the heat inside the house. In the evening, after dark, we would sit on the screened-in patio, praying for a breeze and playing board games until bedtime. On very hot and still nights, mom and dad let us sleep on the wooden chaise lounges. Fun times! Our next home was outside Detroit, Michigan. Dad went to work with Ford as a sound and vibration engineer. I made new friends in the neighborhood and soon entered the wonderful world of sports in sandlots, backyards, driveways, and streets. The season dictated the sport. Summer was all about the game of baseball. We were out of the house as soon as we had dressed and had eaten breakfast. Groups of neighbor kids would gather in front of a designated house where we would choose sides for a game of softball, hardball, or maybe whiffle ball. The game took place in the street with cardboard squares as bases and home plate. Not everyone had a ball glove or bat, so the sides would share what they had. Our teams varied in numbers of players with sometimes just enough
