Health & Fitness
Summer Feet
"Remembering the joys of summer, from the perspective of a young boy in Philly....it was and still is - the best time of the year"
Looking back on my teen years.....it wasn't really summer until I officially heard Springsteen's - 4th of July, Asbury Park (“Sandy”) on the airwaves of WMMR. That to me was one of the main clues that summer had finally made its way to (my) Delaware Valley. The Rule was - The aforementioned song had to be heard while playing on the radio. When I was younger, I would first hear that particular song in my room listening along to the stereo. Year later, when I finally had my driver’s license, I had to be driving in my car and hear that song, for it to count, as the Unofficial Beginning of Summer!!!
Meaning, I could not physically insert the "Greetings" cassette tape into my tape deck thereby forcing summer into my teenage consciousness. It had to serendipitously appear on the 93.3 FM airwaves. As I remember it now, almost forty years later, that was what made the moment - Magic!
The song seemed to materialize from another place and the fact that I heard it at that precise moment signaled short pants, flip flops, bathing suits, ice cream, swimming pools, baseball, slurpees and of course….girls.
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When Bruce sang about that mythical far away magical paradise and this girl named Sandy, “bopping down the beach with the radio” that was the ONLY place I wanted to be!
If spring holds the seasonal definition of rebirth and starting anew.....then its cousin summer was the season of play! Its legendary cool status no doubt coincided with the ending of the school year!
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Funny, I didn’t recall a single care back then………
Before Bruce found me in my room, ears glued to the radio, there was my life that existed at 12041 Millbrook Road.
We lived in a row home in Northeast Philly, each house connected to each other like dominos lying side by side with a small front cement step (“stoop”) and driveway that tilted down towards the white wooden single garage door. Each home looked exactly the same.
It was here I first learned of the expression – Summer Feet.
In those early days of summer; the ever present blacktop, cement stoop and playground filled with stones or twigs made our feet ache as we winced in pain anytime our feet we would come in contact with anything harsher than the cool green grass of our backyard. We would scrunch our toes together or hop on one foot when we would unexpectedly step on a sharp stone or stub a toe on the cement surface. That feeling would fade as the summer months dragged on, with calluses slowly forming on our tender feet giving us “summer feet”.
(Think I’m kidding – Try it now. Walk barefoot outside on the pavement in the spring to fetch the mail from your curbside mailbox. Ouch! See what I mean…..)
Your feet are what connect you to this earth. I would argue that there are not many feelings in this world better than standing bare foot in deep green grass, walking on a sandy beach or dipping your feet in a pool of water.
For pre-teen boys growing up in this urban setting, summer meant Little League baseball had already started at the local sandlots and you knew without having to be coached - The Philadelphia Phillies – were going to win World Series. We believed like only little boys can – This would be our year!
As the sweltering hot and humid days of summer raged on, we ran upstairs to our rooms, put on our summer uniform consisting of short pants and short-sleeved shirts and raced into the street. It was light until almost eight o’clock each night and adventures lurked around every corner. When I was ten years old, my summer activities consisted of flipping baseball cards (“knock-sees” and “top-sees”) and riding my green metallic colored Schwinn bicycle that had a white “banana seat” and cool “sissy-bar”. We played “wire-ball” (telephone wires) and “wall ball” (garage door) non-stop. Each game was different with different rules, but both required only a pimple ball, the prized possession for a youngster back then! We played Jailbreak (read: tag), swam in each other’s three-foot above ground pools and on occasion waded in the nearby “crick”. Note to all you non-Philly types - A “creek” is a babbling brook somewhere in New Jersey.
Hanging-out with the kids on the block…..well before that famous boy band from the late eighties stole our moniker! Our block called us together, united us and ultimately defined us.
The best part was all of this did not require any practice. It was just what you did.
Even though we basically did the same four or five activities day after day, it never got old. Each day was different from the day that preceded it and these were the best friends we thought we would ever have. We really believed we would do these things (together) for the rest of our lives.
However……suddenly and without notice, Labor Day appeared like a cruel joke.
The days were still warm but the sun was stealing my precious summer, each day, one minute at a time. The morning breezes were suddenly cooler and jackets were pulled from boxes stored in our attic. My mom dragged me and my younger brother first to Woolworth’s for school supplies and then to Sears for what seemed like hours of torture trying on long pants, button-down shirts and sweaters. This was our new school wardrobe. Yuck!
My dear friend Summer was suddenly gone.
School started and homework, quizzes and tests followed. Almost instantaneously and without the slightest warning our feet were covered in socks and shoes. Within a few more months, snow boots appeared on clear piece of plastic by the front door, lined up next to our mittens and scarves.
Alas……No more summer feet.
However, because the radio does not follow the calendar hanging on the kitchen door and live by matters of the heart, I would still occasionally hear “Sandy” playing on MMR in January and I would think…..”Only five more months ‘til summer”.
And for a few brief moments my mind raced back to the memories of last summer. I quickly wondered what I would experience this coming summer. That was always the best part! The wondering……
Welcome – The Summer of 2011.
It’s still light outside and I’ve got my Summer Feet - Let’s Play.
(Essay = 1,063 words)
Scott Kern is a South Jersey-based writer, husband and father to an awesome daughter, Lauren. He and his wife Marie have lived in Moorestown, NJ for over 15 years. He loves the Flyers, Phillies, music, sports, photography and all things native to the Delaware Valley and the Jersey Shore. So far in Life, in the words of Jimmy Buffett, he has enjoyed growing older but not up!
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