Summer, the Formerly Best Season

When I was a boy, Summer was my favorite time of the year. School was out, Little League was in, and my two favorite holidays came in July: Independence Day and my birthday. I remember sitting in school in early June, pining for the coming season. First, as I lived in a world of much older sisters, my young age was always something I wished to overcome, and each July there'd be another notch towards maturity. I specifically remember being 9, and the seeming decade long wait until I reached the double digits. And the wonderful Fourth...as a kid, it meant my parents taking me and some friends to Eisenhower Park, a picnic blanket and a cooler of watermelon and cookies, and watching the great fireworks display. As I got to be a 'tween, the Fourth meant going to my friend Mark's house, and setting off the illegal fireworks we began buying in March...firecrackers, Roman candles, M-80s, and one year a "blockbuster" which was supposedly equal to 1/8 of a stick of dynamite. Mark's father, a JFK airport meteorogist, let us enjoy our pyrotechnics, and it's really a wonder none of us was killed or maimed. Years ago I did learn that my friend Eric still had hearing loss in one ear that resulted from my other friend Fitz forgetting to toss a firecracker, instead allowing it to go off inches from Eric's ear... When we were truly grownups, 17, we took our crudely made fake IDs and headed to Beefsteak Charlies, where you could have all the beer, wine, and sangria you could take, along with your meal. The fake IDs came about when I realized that our old family manual typewriter had the same typeface as the information on the pictureless NY state driver's licenses. With careful placement, one could, with a strong keystroke, replace the '61 in our birthdates with '60, instantly rendering ourselves 18 and legal to drink. It worked! We got drunk at the Nassau Mall Charlies, and walked the 4 miles to the park, where the fireworks looked even brighter than they had before. Summer in South Florida isn't so great. It's hot as hell, and humid. Although July 4, 1981 was an awesome one for me, with a crazy party at my friend Vince's parents' house, by 1983 my Dad was dead, and I took my sad mother to FAU to watch their fireworks show -- going through the motions. This year the Ds are off to NYC and many friend who live there. D2's boyfriend Jonathan apparently found them a roof top party where they can see the main display over the East River. Wifey and I and Norman and Deb and Dave and Maureen are headed to the Palm Steakhouse, for some NY strips and martinis, followed by some fireworks from the side of the Broad Causeway. So summer is ok, I guess. It's just lost some of the magic it held when I was a boy. But as long as there are fireworks...