From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

Summertime has arrived! Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote “live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” Don’t let this magical time of the year escape without adding adventures you never want to forget. New adventures make you feel young and so alive. Isn’t life fabulous?

Summertime, that idyllic time of year when each of us remembers the day or night when life was thoroughly spectacular. Every day held great possibilities! Temperatures were balmy with low humidity, the water was cool and refreshing, your friends were game for another adventure and you looked good and felt unbelievably beautiful and ready for anything!

Remember the exhilaration of diving off the high dive, hitting the water smoothly and your body feeling tingly with coolness? Maybe you’re even brave enough to try skinny-dipping. How cool was life when you cruised along in a convertible, your long hair flying free in the sweet summer breezes, wildflowers blooming along the roadsides? You were felt free and sassy…

Remember flying high in a swing, way up, almost high as the sky, thinking maybe if I jump, I could fly? Such a freeing feeling… You loved to ski behind a racing boat, leaning back to enjoy the spray of the waves, as the speedboat cut through the waves, you were flying…what a high!

And what about those furtive kisses you so enjoyed on a park bench under the moon? The night breezes softly caressed my shoulders of my sundress as I cuddled close with the boy I’d had a mad crush on all year long. Life was so perfect in that moment. The next day, however, I waited endlessly, hopelessly, by the telephone. He didn’t call. Summer romances…so thrilling, so disappointing…

And who can ever forget the teen hops at Lakeside? Knotty pine walls pulsated with the beat of music by the Everly Brothers or Bobby Vee; the glittering spinning silver ball in the ceiling cast diamond sparkles on the wood floor and the windows were wide open to a full moon over Lake Minnewaska. How romantic! We danced, sweat dripping, to the bunny hop, the twist, and rocked out head back and forth as we strutted to the stroll…but close dances were the favorite. It was a new sensation to be close to a boy who had his arms around you as we slowly slid our ballet slippers around the slippery dance floor. Lights were low; the music was drumming in my head…summer romance time once again.

We waited all year for the huge Waterama celebration on Lake Minnewaska with bands from all over the state marching in uncomfortably hot wool uniforms, trombones and horns blaring, drums beating. Queens rode on floats decorated with crepe paper and pulled by tractors or cars. Hopeful queens greeted the crowds with aching arms performing queenly figure 8 waves in long gloves. It felt creepy to sit and sweat in our swimsuits, one knee up, the other straight forward as we leaned back on the float using the other arm to wave. Shriners rode in whirling formations on their tiny scooters while clowns in funny costumes, big, flapping shoes and red noses tossed candy to little kids. At least one clown would have a squirting flower to spray the crowds sitting on curbs as the parade worked its way to Lake Minnewaska. Huge horses with fancy saddles and riders in fringes and cowboy hats rode proudly, their horses leaving smelly presents, evidence of their parade presence while pooper scoopers followed at a safe distance.

Paddling through rough waves as a friend and I neared Priest’s Point and later the Starbuck beach, I knew Lou and I were going to get the best tan of the summer. We’d slathered our bodies with baby oil, tugged on slippery swim suits sticky from hot weather, and hoped to meet cool guys at the beach across the lake. Feeling so satisfied that we’d actually canoed across the length of Minnewaska back and forth, we slept well that night, dreaming of that hunky lifeguard at the beach. Were we really so smitten with boys? Ah, those wild teenage hormones…

Friends would gather up on the hill at Mount Lookout to talk about our dreams for the future, our fears of leaving home and our hopes for after high school. Fireflies sparkled and twinkled in the dark night like our wishes for the next year when we would set out on a new adventure of college, beauty school or jobs in the Cities.

Remember receiving a driver’s learning permit, taking the threatening drivers’ test, and borrowing the family car for the first time that 16th summer? Cruising down Main Street as I sat behind the wheel for the first time was such a thrill…I passed the test! Dad had lent the little white Falcon to me for the evening. Gas was cheap…I had finally arrived! I was Sweet Sixteen, still waiting to be kissed.

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.