By Scut Farkus
Old fashioned summer-time. I'm talkin' about orange sherbert push-ups and spending hours outdoors in the front yard, riding bikes in the street, playing kickball in parking lots, shooting hoops in the nieghbor's driveway, getting into shananigans on the roof of the house, climbing trees just for the hell of it, meeting friends for a game of whiffleball in the field across from the junior high school. What happend to surveying the yard for sticks so you could run through the sprinkler later minus injury. We didn't have the luxury of a backyard swimming pool. When the summer gods were good to us we were occassionally invited to a neighor's house on a hot afternoon to splash around in a horse tub filled with tap water which scratched our swimming itch. We were so delighted to be in a tub full of water, swimming in circles, that the third degre burns from the metal walls didn't bother us a bit - or not too much anyway. There were days when mother, aching for some quiet time, would give the siblings and I one dollar apiece to walk down to our neighborhood 7-11 for an afternoon treat. Neighborhood = a 3.5+ mile trek in the blazing heat. Halfway through our journey you could find us dehydrated and sprawled out in someone's front lawn bellyaching about heat strokes and bad ideas. When boredom ensued we brainstormed ideas to bring home profit. We were big fans of the driveway car wash, fully equipped with Dawn liquid soap and a lawn hose. Our only downfall was lack of marketing skills and zero motivation. Lemonade stands were fun - the thirst quencher sold itself - but we had to settle for the kool-aid flavor of the day because that's all we had in the fridge (orange was my color of choice). Once my sister and I raffled off prizes donated by the catholic church [wink] to neighbors around the block. Neighbors who knew my sister and I personally and neighbors who attended the same catholic church my family frequented (on a good day). The raffle ticket was crafted out of notebook paper with our [make believe] prizes, rules, and need not be present boldly written in bubble letters using a variety of crayola crayons. You would be wrong to guess that no one purchased a raffle. On a grand summer's eve the parents would declare "shut the windows kids" which only meant one thing - house meet air conditioner. We, like kids on their way into the magic kingdom, skipped around the house in joy for we were about to be treated with the magic of cold air! This enabled me to move away from the box fan I sat in front of for 8 hours each day and also allowed me to finally get some sleep at night.
What ever happened to the old mustang body style - circa '87?
Old fashioned summer-time. I'm talkin' about orange sherbert push-ups and spending hours outdoors in the front yard, riding bikes in the street, playing kickball in parking lots, shooting hoops in the nieghbor's driveway, getting into shananigans on the roof of the house, climbing trees just for the hell of it, meeting friends for a game of whiffleball in the field across from the junior high school. What happend to surveying the yard for sticks so you could run through the sprinkler later minus injury. We didn't have the luxury of a backyard swimming pool. When the summer gods were good to us we were occassionally invited to a neighor's house on a hot afternoon to splash around in a horse tub filled with tap water which scratched our swimming itch. We were so delighted to be in a tub full of water, swimming in circles, that the third degre burns from the metal walls didn't bother us a bit - or not too much anyway. There were days when mother, aching for some quiet time, would give the siblings and I one dollar apiece to walk down to our neighborhood 7-11 for an afternoon treat. Neighborhood = a 3.5+ mile trek in the blazing heat. Halfway through our journey you could find us dehydrated and sprawled out in someone's front lawn bellyaching about heat strokes and bad ideas. When boredom ensued we brainstormed ideas to bring home profit. We were big fans of the driveway car wash, fully equipped with Dawn liquid soap and a lawn hose. Our only downfall was lack of marketing skills and zero motivation. Lemonade stands were fun - the thirst quencher sold itself - but we had to settle for the kool-aid flavor of the day because that's all we had in the fridge (orange was my color of choice). Once my sister and I raffled off prizes donated by the catholic church [wink] to neighbors around the block. Neighbors who knew my sister and I personally and neighbors who attended the same catholic church my family frequented (on a good day). The raffle ticket was crafted out of notebook paper with our [make believe] prizes, rules, and need not be present boldly written in bubble letters using a variety of crayola crayons. You would be wrong to guess that no one purchased a raffle. On a grand summer's eve the parents would declare "shut the windows kids" which only meant one thing - house meet air conditioner. We, like kids on their way into the magic kingdom, skipped around the house in joy for we were about to be treated with the magic of cold air! This enabled me to move away from the box fan I sat in front of for 8 hours each day and also allowed me to finally get some sleep at night.
What ever happened to the old mustang body style - circa '87?
I had one back in '88 right before I met that evil whore cocaine. R.I.P. Sally.
What ever happened to Cowboys vs. Indians plastic figures. I had hundreds of these little guys strolled out on the cold floors of my bedroom when I was a young lad. Instead of playing out scenes from one of my favorite Westerns, I produced my very own amateur "Cowboys vs. Indians - Battle of the Bands" series. The Indians proudly carried the title Almika and Her Dirty Dozen (Almika meaning "She of the Sun"), while the Cowboys were known around town as Louis Lou and the Lone Ranger's. This is what I called entertainment not horsin' around with a woo or wii whatchamacalit. What happened to using your imagination? These days all you need is a little pocket change to buy your very own fantasies! And finally, in closing, what happend to good old fashioned walking. Back when I was a youngster gas was $1.24/gallon, give and take, and my family still commuted everywhere via foot. Quit your whining society!
Thanks for allowing me time on my soapbox ("soap poisoining" - ha) I could honestly go on for hours but life calls.
~ Scut
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About the writer:
Age: 38 going on 16
Marital Status: They say third time's a charm, right? :)
Who would play you in a movie made of your life: Easy - Ron Howard
Favorite childhood memory: Kickin' some Billingsley ass in '83. Nah, seriously I love the guy. Playing Bernardo in Fullmont High's rendition of Westside Story.
Favorite Song: The song of the moment is "Tiny Birds" by Yo La Tengo other than that anything by Natalie Merchant.
Favorite Television Show: I couldn't live without Friends reruns. Also lovin' that new Real World series. D-r-a-m-a! Not a big fan of that wife swap series - that one hits too close to home.
Favorite Leasure Activity: My wife is going to hate this response but I am a bit of a pool shark.
Guilty Pleasure(s): a zima with lime, a black and mild, and a dame.
Pets: Samuel L. Jackson, his bastard kittens and baby's momma Fruitloop (her original name was Penelope Priss but I changed it because I can't stand the bitch).
Favorite Athlete: PBA's very own Walter Ray Williams, Jr., of course. You're #1 Walt!
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