Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Summertime Blues

Ah summer! Time is flying soooo fast these days, I don’t even have to wait until August for the dog days – Wee Dawgies, it’s been hot, hot, hot. It’s also been muggy. When it gets like this sometimes my knee gets to hurting. My own personal barometer. Which reminds me ~

Mike Pasquel never liked me. He always told me he was gonna throw me in the river. I don’t know why he didn’t like me. Perhaps it was because I was a safety patrol crossing guard and looked real spiffy with my white belt. Perhaps it was because I made him wait until I stood in the middle of the road with arms and legs stretched out, shielding him and the rest of my peers.

Maybe he didn’t like me because sometimes I used my skates while wearing the patrol belt – a definite no-no – but I enjoyed showing off my skill of stopping on a dime. At the end of the 5th grade, when school was released for summer vacation, Mike actually did push me down the ravine into the river.

How I loved summer when I was a kid. We didn’t have air conditioning, heckfire shoot, not even a color tv. My NY Granny made sure we stayed outside all day long. We found shade trees to sit under and play board games in the hot afternoon sun. Early mornings and evenings were made for riding my bicycle or skating with my excellent pair of hand me down metal skates. They even had their own key! Huzzah!

The day that Mike Pasquel pushed me down that grassy slope, I was wearing my skates. I rolled, I tumbled and my right knee hit a stump, which in turn caused my skate to get hung up on it’s root. No one was around to hear my cry. I remembered every bad word I had ever heard in my life. Trust me, he was called every color of dirty dog there was. I even invented a few which I forgot totally about until I was married to my first husband.
Funny how the memory works.

A kid back then with these magic skates always had their skate key. Mine was tied on a shoelace and wore around my neck. My fat 11 year old fingers nimbly loosened the skate so I could free my foot. You should have seen my knee. It would take a whole bottle of mercurochrome to keep me from certain impetigo. I limped home, skates in hand, PF Flyers no longer clean. My soiled patrol belt would never be pristine again. My NY Granny saw me limping. She came with switch in hand, just knowing I had been up to no good. On closer inspection, Grandma knew I had come out on the losing end of this battle.

At times I would rather have taken a switching than to listen to my Grand parents. My Grandpop was from Denmark. He was like King Solomon, with his wisdom and Jewish wit. My Grandmother was neither Jew or witty. And she was never, bless her heart, politically correct. She knew that rotten Mike P. was in for it. Grabbing my arm, she dragged me to his house, confronted him, graphically questioned his father and mother’s heritage in no uncertain terms and in the end, I received a new pair of skates and a slimy handshake from my sworn enemy.
That summer I never once used those skates. I wonder what ever happened to them. Probably in my mother’s attic. She never throws away anything.


Stray Stitches said...

Thanks for sharing your childhood memories and bringing back some of my own. I had skates just like that - they were such a pain to keep on unless I wore my saddle shoes - lol! I also had a pair of PF Flyers. And, do you know, they didn't make me run faster or jump higher as the ad promised.

Blondie ~ Vintage Primitives said...

I know what you mean about going faster! I could never outrun my brother once I pulled a fast one on him. LOL. Madison Avenue marketing! Blah!

Tonya said...

My brother pushed me down a ravine once. It was winter and he thought I needed to try it on a sled. It was steep, trees, rocks, creek at the bottom.

I broke my leg. He laughed and left me to crawl home. He laughed a couple hours later when I got there. Then he told my parents I was fibbin and fakin'. I went all weekend with them yelling at me telling me to put weight on my leg. Up until I went to school and my teacher called them and said either get me to a doc or she calls DFS. I was on crutches for 4 months. It was a bad break.
Phooey on bullies. I am not a fan of bullying at all...family or not.

Blondie ~ Vintage Primitives said...

Sakes alive, Tonya. I thought my brother was mean! Yours was abusive.
So glad that you are in a healthier place!

Bobbie B said...

i had bullies for brothers and when i got older i got them back ... they hid all my clothes when i was to go on my very first date .. i was mortified and my mother did yell .. haha .. but i got them back ... i stitched all their clothes .. shut ... all the sleeves on their shirts where sewn across so they could not get their arms in .. and all their shorts and jeans had the bottoms of the legs sewn closed ... and oh boy did my mother yell ... haha .. but it was the best thing i ever did ... push me .. shove you .. haha .. they never did pick on me again ..
blondie ... what a wonderful post .. and thanks for the memories .. huge hugs .

Cora said...

I just loved this! I could feel all your emotions and had to laugh, though I shouldn't have. Maybe it was the skates that threw me over the edge. I had a pair just like em and THE sacred key!!!! Our problem was the sidewalks were uneven and we'd hit the cracks and go flying. It's a wonder any of us have knees left.

Thanks for your comment tonight on my blog. I just wanted to hug you to death!!!!!! You are so precious!!!!!

Pen Pen said...

Love this story! I used to have skates like that, too. We always skated in the highway. We lived way out in the country where we could do that. Everyone would watch for cars and yell "car's coming" whenever we needed to jump off the road. What fun!!!