When I was a
kid, the last day of school more or less coincided with the first day of summer,
which at the time made a lot of sense. I’m sure this was why the hiatus in the
school year was called “summer vacation.” This isn’t the case here. I suppose
it’s called “summer vacation,” but almost a month of it takes place in spring,
and I’ve been wondering why for 39 years.
Summer was
great because not only would there be no homework and tests, there would be
nothing but play day after day after day — interrupted only by a couple of
weeks in the country when Pop had his annual vacation, and maybe the occasional
Saturday at the beach or in one of the state parks for a picnic.
For play we
had the unlimited use of two places: the street, and any vacant lot we could
reach on foot or by bike. The street was obvious, because there it was, right
outside our houses, and since it was a residential street to nowhere there
wasn’t much traffic. The street was for playing a variety of games with balls,
or having battles between two opposing forces of knights in cardboard armor .
But vacant
lots were something else. I cannot overstate the importance of vacant lots to a
kid growing up in early 1950s’ Long Island. In the suburbs, which were rapidly
filling up with homes and children following the war, there were still plenty
of vacant lots, and they were more suited for many kids’ games than their
yards, which Mom and Dad, mostly refugees from the cities, were grooming like
little botanical gardens. Vacant lots were not well groomed. They were untamed,
a touch of the wilderness in the otherwise civilized suburbs. And in those days
they were almost never littered.
The vacant
lot was easily identified because it didn’t contain a house, wasn’t fenced, had
no apparent owner (although it really did), and was largely overgrown with
scrub, weeds, and trees. It just sat there between lots filled with houses,
driveways, lawns, patios, picnic tables, and flower beds, waiting to be cleared
and excavated for the basement of a new house. Remove all the houses, pavement,
and patio furniture from the suburbs, and Long Island would be one big vacant
lot.
I always
came home from the vacant lot dirty, and when I took a bath the water would
turn brown. But it did say in “The Boys Guide to Growing Up” that getting dirty
was not only normal but essential for proper development. I wonder if kids
still get dirty today. Anyone?
School
didn’t resume until the Wednesday after Labor Day, which also made sense
because in the adult world Labor Day has always been the unofficial end of
summer. Once again this isn’t the case here, and I’ve been wondering why for 39
years as well.
