True End of Summer

Without a doubt, summer was the best season for any kid who lived on Flamingo Street. Not having to get up early for school, being outside barefooted, spending endless days hiking, fishing and swimming, plus the many adventures (and misadventures) we all had are just a few of the many things that made summer the very best time of the year.   

Then again…

Without a doubt, fall was the best season for any kid who lived on Flamingo Street. With looking forward to decorating the yard, making our own costumes, trick-or-treating, eating all that free candy, Halloween was half the reason why the fall was so special. The other half was Thanksgiving.

The memories of helping Mom and Dad prepare, cook, and serve the Thanksgiving dinner are some of my most cherished. I can smell her food every year as we are still using her recipes and Dad’s secret way of making the best deviled eggs on all of Flamingo. Both are what makes the holiday so special. The carving and serving set they got while being stationed in Germany right after they were married adorns our table each year. Yes, fall is simply the best time.   

Then again…

Without a doubt, winter was the best season for any kid who lived on Flamingo Street. With December came Christmas, decorations, presents, and great food. Winter also brought with it something all the kids really wanted: a snow or ice storm. If the storm dumped snow, every kid would be out in their front yards building snowmen or enjoying a snowball fight. If it was an ice storm, we’d slide down Flamingo using thick cardboard, flattened trashcan lids, or real sleds. The snowball battles with Down the Street Bully Brad and his gang of three were epic and soon to be legendary – at least in our minds.     

The true end of summer. 

Ask any kid on Flamingo for their favorite season of the year and chances are you’ll get a different answer from each one – just like my three brothers, The Sister, and me. But we kids agreed on two things. First, growing up on Flamingo, any season of the year was the best. And second, if you ask them when the true end of summer occurred, they’d all have the same answer. They wouldn’t point to a calendar or almanac, but rather down the street towards Old Mrs. Crabtree’s house.

 The dirt path behind Old Mrs. Crabtree’s house led to the large bend in Cripple Creek. The water was deep, bluish in color, and frigid even in the middle of summer. A massive oak tree stood on the near bank with a large limb parallel to the ground some twenty feet up – perfect for anchoring our rope swing. With a two-foot-long branch tied to the end making a t-shaped handle, we’d spend the summers swinging and flipping into the Artic Plunge. Fed by natural springs, even a brief swim in those waters caused our lips and skin to turn blue. 

Summer was officially over when even the bravest of us wouldn’t accept a Double Dog Dare to take one last summer swing and plunge. This always seemed to happen around the first week in September.    

Last Monday, Labor Day, was the official end of summer, but for Sweet Caroline and me, summer had already ended two days earlier. That Saturday morning, we took a hike down alongside Line Creek. Following the water for about an hour, we suddenly came upon a huge oak tree standing on the bank. About twenty feet up was a large limb parallel to the ground with a rope swing already attached. Dangling at the end of the rope was a two-foot limb forming a t-shaped handle. 

Excitedly, Sweet Caroline asked, “Do you think it will hold me?” I smiled remembering I’d asked the same question to Older Brother Richard just prior to the limb handle breaking and me splashing down into the Artic Plunge.

“Don’t really know. Only one way to find out.”

Emboldened by that answer and before I could stop her, our little redhead grabbed ahold of the limb and, full of confidence, ran as fast as she could leaping out over the waters. (In my defense, I did advise her I didn’t know if it would hold her.) 

Did our Sweet Caroline make the swing safely out over the waters and back to shore or did the rope or limb handle break, plunging her into the frigid waters below? All I’ll admit is that the answer provided for one amazing photo: a photo of the official end of summer.

Our hike also provided something else – a memory and picture of an adventure she can one day share with her children. And, if she is blessed as I have been, with her grandchildren as well.