End of a season

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summersend

Labor Day is considered to be the last day of summer before we all head back to school and get ready for the fall.

This summer represents the 50th I have experienced. Here are some things I treasure about past summers; mostly during my early teen years and all before the age of 18.

Swimming. There is a local pool where I took swimming lessons in the morning and sometimes swam for fun in the afternoon.

Riding my 10 speed bike and later on, my 12 speed bike. To the local pools. To the local parks. And everywhere else.

Running and seeing how far my maturing body could go in distance and time.

It was an exciting time as I was convinced that there was absolutely no limit what I could do physically if I remembered to occasionally eat (and sleep was conveniently ignored).

Meeting a girl at the park. She was from Hawaii with bronzed skin and of the same age. Two innocent, sweet, and naïve fifteen year olds experiencing a magical summer together. We talked and talked, sometimes rode our bikes together, shared some tender moments, and just had fun. And don’t ask me how, but I seem to remember that we even got money together to share an ice cream.

We expected to see each other the next summer but that never materialized.  She had to go back to Hawaii and I never saw here again.

To append Ecclesiastes 3; “There is a time to give, a time to share”. We did both.

During my teenage years I discovered freedom at summer camps. They were lots of fun and had enough food to keep a male teenage boy with an incredibly fast metabolism from becoming hungry. And of course they had a swimming pool. I swam and swam. Over the course of four summer camps I earned 6 (!) one mile swimming patches and hiked and was awed at the multitude of the stars above.

The evening quietness provided both respite and solace from the day’s activities.

It was a time of imaginations, wonderments, experiments, and even a short term romance.

end-of-summer-quote

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To everything – turn, turn, turn

There is a season – turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

 

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

 

To everything – turn, turn, turn

There is a season – turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

 

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones

A time to gather stones together

 

To everything – turn, turn, turn

There is a season – turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

 

A time of love, a time of hate

A time of war, a time of peace

A time you may embrace

A time to refrain from embracing

 

To everything – turn, turn, turn

There is a season – turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

 

A time to gain, a time to lose

A time to rend, a time to sew

A time for love, a time for hate

A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late!

 

– “Turn!, Turn!, Turn!”, Lyrics by Pete Seeger, sometime in the late 1950s. Credit is sometimes erroneously given to the soft rock group, The Byrds, 1965

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