Senior News Editor
Listening to the lyrics of Seals & Crofts’ “Summer Breeze” make me yearn for summer year round.
My mind is flushed warm at the thought of summer and the memories I’ve made with my family and friends.
There are different things I associate with when it comes to the seasons of the year.
For fall, it’s the start of a new school year and the chilly autumn breeze on the beach at Sanibel Island. During winter, it’s the overwhelming sense of holiday cheer, close families and the smell of evergreen and wood burning.
For spring, it’s the buzz of growth and pastel colors cascading from dresses and wreaths. Then there is summer –– lofty breezes, ice-cold lemonade, toes tickling the warm sand and the touch of gold the sun leaves behind.
As a child, these are just a few of the many things that I would look forward to as my mom and I would scream the lyrics to ‘School’s Out’ by Alice Cooper on the last day of school.
I was never happy for summer because there was no more school for three months. I thoroughly enjoyed going to school on a daily basis.
I was happy because the season of summer meant the recollection of so many good memories and the potential of good ones to come. It brings along with it a certain warmth.
One of the reasons I would yearn for summer as a child was because it meant it was time to visit my family in Amory, Miss. My sister and I always cherished the one or two weeks we got to spend there because we didn’t get to go often.
As I sat in the back seat with my sister in the car, we would listen to “‘70s on 7,” watch for deer on the Natchez Trace and fight for our turn to play “Space Invaders” on the Gameboy Color.
That drive couldn’t come quick enough — already wearing our swimsuits so we could plunge into the pool when we reached 100 Pecan Orchard Lane eight hours later.
For the short week or two we spent there every summer, my cousins, my sister and I would always walk next door to the bait shop and get the goods for our next adventure.
The smell of ripe earth, dirt and water filled the air when we would open that swinging screen door and hear it slam.
We would pay for our beef jerky, Funions and Yoo-hoos in dimes, nickels and quarters and would head to the “wiggly” bridge to make tossed salads out of the bright green, furry moss that littered the neighbor’s yard.
We were adventurous children, especially after repeatedly watching movies like “Clubhouse Detectives,” “Hook” and the “Butter Cream Gang.” We were always searching for trouble in the best sense.
As we got older, our interests changed along with our summers. No longer was it okay to sneak over to the neighbor’s yard and play on their wiggly, wooden bridge.
Sooner than we knew it, we could all drive and we started doing things like going to the movies in Tupelo instead of riding our tandem to the local high school.
Although I’ve had some once-in-lifetime experiences in my recent summers as I’ve gotten older, like spending summers in Egypt and New York, it still can’t beat those simple summers I would look forward to as a child.
When I pretended moss was a healthy green salad, anything was possible.
Molly Bowman is a junior journalism major from Shreveport who serves as senior news editor for The Tech Talk. Email comments to mmb041@latech.