August 26, 2009

• Summer’s Almost Gone

  When the radio stations around here play anything by The Doors, it is typically Light My Fire or Love Me Two Times. The other day, while I was stuck in traffic on i91 (coming home from Holyoke), 102.1 WKY, Springfield’s rock station played an old favourite of mine, Summer’s Almost Gone.

  I don’t hear the song very often; all of my Doors albums are on cassette, and I no longer own a reliable cassette player.

  When I hear Summer’s Almost Gone, I am transported to the summer of 1983… the months before I turned sixteen and became a junior in high school. That summer, Brother #3 (The Professor) bought the Dodge Charger and a Doors cassette tape that featured one album on each side. Sometime in July, that tape got stuck in the deck, and rather than fix the problem, we listened to a lot of The Doors.

  When the school year ended in June, I was in love with my “secret man”, who even then was into heroin (I had no idea at that point; I only knew that I was changing.). A boy who was only going to be in the U.S. until mid-September (when he’d be heading off to university in his own country, the UK) pursued me. One of my older brother’s friends was trying to seduce me – NOT cool; he was married and his wife was pregnant with their third child (That creep chased me around all summer, fall, winter, and the next spring. I think he liked being slapped. I would have told my brother, but I didn’t want him to go to jail for killing the creep.).

  I sort of went into hiding – well, as far as “boys” were concerned. I needed a break; during the school year, I’d gotten very little sleep (I spent my days in school, maintaining an A average, and I spent my nights sneaking out to be with my “secret man”, who had no idea how young I was – keeping lies up is an exhausting business.).

  Besides the boy bull crap, it was a great summer.

  My mother and I were getting along pretty well; we made pies together (she shared her secrets to the perfect crust). She liked my International Man of Mystery, and his suit amused her; we joked about it the whole time he was here. Because I had ended the school year on the Honour Roll, my mom loosened up my curfew for the summer, even more than usual.

  Because Brother #3 now had reliable transportation, my younger brother, Tadpole and I spent a lot more time with him. We fished and swam, mostly at Perry’s Mill Ponds in Southport. We went camping a few times, too (somewhere in or near Newtown; I do not remember the name of the place).

  Camping out was great. Counting on The Professor and Tadpole for food was not. After the first (fishless) trip, I learned to pack more than a bag of marshmallows.

  We never used tents or sleeping bags. Like our father, we preferred sleeping on the ground, watching the stars and the moon. The three of us lounged around a fire, smoking pot and cigarettes (the guys did most of the drinking). A lot of the time, we talked peaceably. Sometimes, we fought, or they did – it has always been my policy to avoid fights during the summer; to me, summer should be nothing but fun.

  On our last camping trip, in August of 1983, The Professor and Tadpole had an argument on the first night. I do not remember what it was about. It did not get physical, but it did get loud.

  I walked back to the car and turned the stereo on. The Doors tape was still stuck in there. Rather than push the button to put the radio on, I let the tape play.

  I sat up on the hood of the Charger, my back against the windshield. I stared up at the sky and listened:

  “Summer’s almost gone,
  Summer’s almost gone,
  Almost gone,
  Yeah, it’s almost gone.
  Where will we be
  When the summer’s gone?
  
  Morning found us calmly unaware,
  Noon burned gold into our hair,
  At night we swam at laughin’ sea
  When summer’s gone, where will we be?
  Where will we be?
  Where will we be?

  Morning found us calmly unaware,
  Noon burned gold into our hair,
  At night, we swam at laughin’ sea
  When summer’s gone, where will we be?
  
  Summer’s almost gone,
  Summer’s almost gone.
  We had some good times,
  But they’re gone,
  The winter’s comin’ on,
  Summer’s almost gone.”

  It was like I was hearing the words for the first time. I wondered where I would be when the summer was gone.

  I know now “where I’d be”; by the end of that year, I’d break up with the “secret man” and move into the house on Mill River, with Drug Dealer. The rift between my mother and me would grow. On New Year’s Day (his birthday), my “secret man” hanged himself. I was kicked out of school for absenteeism shortly after that. There would be no more fishing, swimming or camping trips with my brothers. Every facet of my life changed.

  Still… It had been a great summer.

  • 9:10 am
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