Bill OBoyle: Summer sounds -- rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat
Aug. 28—WILKES-BARRE — It's hard to believe, but summer is rapidly coming to an end.
And with summer's exit, we will also say goodbye to those traditional summer sounds — the seemingly constant whirring of our air conditioners, the loud complaining of how freaking hot it is every day, the clapping of thunder, the booming of fireworks and the roar of motorcycles as they roll past us on a busy highway.
And there is one more sound that we hardly ever hear anymore and one that I long for every day.
To hear that sound again, I hopped into the Way Back Machine and arrived on my front porch. I walked in the house and then yes, I heard that sound.
It was the intoxicating and calming sound of our wooden screen door closing behind me.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
Oh how I miss that sound. A simple wooden screen door that kept the bugs out, allowed the cool breeze in and made sure that we could hear everything that was going on in the neighborhood.
Those were the days, my friends, we thought they'd never end.
Front doors were never locked. Neither were our car doors. Windows were open with screens in them and fans were sometimes strategically placed to create a somewhat cooling flow of warm summer air.
We didn't need no stinking air conditioners. Were they even invented yet?
Simple pleasures derived from a simple life in much simpler times.
Long before SportsCenter and constant updates and the "deadline now" world we live in and rely on today, we waited for the paperboy to deliver the daily edition, usually around 3:30 p.m and we would open the sports page to see what happened yesterday in the world of sports — not five minutes ago — yesterday, I tell ya.
And we were content with that pace of life. We didn't have those damn cell phones to check and re-check and update and search and curse at if the Wi-Fi was down.
Nope, we would just walk out onto the front porch, sit in the shade of a huge maple tree and wait for something — anything — to happen.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
Oh how relaxing it was. Maybe we would climb a cherry tree or pick some peaches or plums from the other trees, or see who had the ripest tomatoes. We would drag out the Strat-O-Matic game and roll the dice. We would keep stats and we would be sure to finish before supper.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
In for supper with mom and dad. Everything homemade. Oh those mashed potatoes, green beans, mom's gravy and roast beef. A warm slice of apple pie and a glass of milk.
"May I be excused?"
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
Run up the street to see what was going on with the other kids.
Walk down to the corner and just sit around. Real cars would drive by, each distinctive and sharp. Chevys, Fords, Chryslers, Dodges, some coupes, some sedans, some rag tops.
What's an SUV? We had staionwagons man.
Walk over to Jack's Market for a Yoo Hoo, or a Kickapoo Joy Juice and a Tastykake. Buy some Topps baseball cards.
"Who did you get?"
"I'll trade you Willie and Harmon for Mickey and Roberto."
"Through in Hank and Sandy and we have a deal."
It's getting dark, so back to the porch. We just hang around and talk. We debate our favorite players and teams and then we get the call that it's time to come in for the night.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
What's on TV. The black and white Admiral with rabbit ears wrapped in tin foil is on. Sitcoms that were funny. Variety shows that had talent. Westerns, dramas, all viewed in glorious black and white.
Time for the 11 o'clock news.
"Do you know where your children are?"
We sure do, right here next to us, getting ready for bed. Go brush your teeth.
News was delivered in a fair and non-partisan manner. Same with sports and the weather was last. Back then, we looked out the window to see what the weather was like. Forecasts didn't really matter.
Off to bed. The sweet smell of lilac came through the screen in my window. Baseball practice in the morning.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
Down to the Little League. Shagging fly balls and grounders. Waiting for my turn for batting practice. Huber Stadium in the background.
The red bricks of Plymouth High School and Junior High School were clearly visible.
After practice, off to Mergo's for a couple hot dogs and a soda. Jump on our bikes and head for home to see what's up back in the neighborhood.
Summer days, summer fun, summer sounds.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat."
Reach Bill O'Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle, or email at boboyle@timesleader.com.
