Ahhh...It’s July! July is one of my favorite months of the year. I like the warm temperatures (Dog Days), the longer days and lots of sunshine. I know it gets warm, but I can deal with that more than I can deal with the cold, dead-of-winter days.
Growing up, July was the ultimate because it meant no school, shorts and t-shirts and lots of birthdays — including mine. Plus there was baseball, softball, fishing, swimming, golf, camping, bike-riding — and now, as an adult — driving around with the top off my Jeep.
July meant waking up at dawn, leaving mom a note and heading out to my friend’s house to spend the day having fun (and sometimes getting in trouble). From daybreak to sunset, we’d spend just about every summer day in the great outdoors — coming home twice to get lunch in the afternoon and dinner in the evening.
Kids nowadays just don’t know what they are missing.
We would sometimes head to Shingle Creek in Minneapolis and wander into the woods to make forts in the trees and tall grasses. Sometimes we’d play soccer in the outfield of a baseball diamond nearby or get out the 7-iron and wedge and play a round of golf up and down the shores of the “crick”.
I remember one time we built a ramp out of discarded pieces of wood and positioned it along the creek and took turns trying to leap the 12-feet across the waters to the other side.
Lots of bruises and bumps doing that kinda thing.
At times we’d wander down to the Mississippi River near Hwy. 694 and fish for carp from the shores while we talked about Tony Oliva, Rod Carew and Harmon Killebrew’s exploits with the Minnesota Twins.
We used to hop on our bikes in the morning and head up to Camden Park to wade in the pool on hot days or even trek to Brookdale to get inside for some A/C relief on those hot summer days.
One time we even rode our bikes the 20-mile round trip to downtown Minneapolis to browse the designs at the old Shirt Shack store on Hennepin Ave.
When mom found out, she was not a happy camper.
Speaking of mom, one of my most treasured memories of her was one year for my birthday, I begged my parents to get me a bike. I think I was around 13 or so and in my mind, I wanted a Schwinn or Huffy bike with a banana seat, shifter knob and brakes on the handlebars.
When my big day came, my mom told me to go out and play and when I got back that afternoon, she’d have my present ready for me.
I was sure that day was the day I got my bike.
And I was right.
Except, when I came home, I saw my mom wheel out a bicycle that in no way resembled the Schwinn I wanted. Instead it was a “cruiser” that had everything but the basket in the back and the headlight feature in the front. Mom said she found it at a garage sale and although it was rusty and run down, she was gonna make it look nice with a wash, a new paint job and some grease.
I was shocked and gravely embarrassed (my friend was with me at the time and I think he even giggled a little) that this was what my mom expected me to ride around the neighborhood on. I huffed and ran off with my friend, ashamed that my mom thought I would be okay with that monstrosity.
However, this turned out to be one of those life-changing moments as I began to take the focus off me for a few minutes and think about my mom. My parents were raising 10 of us kids and it hit me hard when I realized none of my other brothers and sisters got new bikes as they got older, so why should I? I began to come out of my self-centeredness attitude and realized my parents were doing their darndest to take care of us children. They were doing the best they could to get us what we wanted, and here I was feeling selfish and bitter on my birthday.
The guilt rolled over me like the humid air of summertime.
I returned home (with my tail between my legs) intent on apologizing to my mom, who I had hoped hadn’t ex-communicated me from the family. Instead, when I walked up to the patio, there she was hand-painting (with house paint) my bike and sprucing it as good as she could for her inconsiderate son.
The sight hit me hard as I realized how deeply she cared about me and how hard she was intent on making my birthday wish a happy one. With all her responsibilities as a parent for all of us kids, here she was taking care of my needs on my special day.
That’s why I love summertime. That’s why I love July and thats’ why I’m grateful for a mom who maybe didn’t give me exactly what I wanted that day, but gave me exactly what I needed.
Happy July everyone!
