Happy summer solstice, everyone. When I think back on all the many, many summers I have lived, most of them seem to have "theme songs." I thought it would be fun to share one of those today, especially since here in PA we have most definitely been experiencing the sort of weather that is the reason I have never been a huge fan of summer. I don't know what it's been like where you are, but it's been about 1000 degrees and 120% humidity every day for five days running now with no end in sight, if the weather forecasters are to be believed.
This kind of weather reminds me of the Piedmont region of North Carolina, where I was born and raised, so it's only appropriate to go way, way back in time to bring you a summer theme song. This one hails from the summer of 1978. It was a summer when I never knew whether or not my older sisters were going to deign to bring me along with them anywhere. Occasionally, the sun, stars, and moon were all aligned correctly (a.k.a. my parents had made them pick me up after seeing some movie with a friend or something, and they didn't want to drive all the way back home -- we lived ten miles outside of town --to get rid of me), and (be still my beating little fourteen-year-old heart! You are way too young to have an attack) they would allow me to come with them on night-time escapades, driving around town, seeking out the homes where all the boys they liked lived (why? Do teenage girls still do this sort of stuff? It sounds like we were all priming ourselves to become stalkers. I promise you, all we ever did, though, was drive by their houses -- screaming and trying to duck down in our seats, if anyone actually went into or came out of any of the houses in question. The idea, I guess, was to see without being seen -- impossible, of course, with windows wide open and girls screaming. Once I learned to drive, my own friends and I continued this practice, which, thank God, I gave up once I went away to college). Anyway, as you might imagine, this was not an easy task back in the days of no GPSes. We had to use things like phone books and maps.
We also were stuck listening to nothing but a radio, which was always on in the dark blue Datsun B210 (we avoided using the other car, the station wagon, whenever possible). The car actually had a stereo, with two speakers in the back (our first car to have such a thing), but, alas, no tape deck. We were completely dependent on whatever the DJs happened to be spinning that night. Luckily, they spun "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones, one of my favorites, quite a lot. We'd roll down the windows, turn it up, and hit those high notes right along with Mick, as we sped down the roads leading to David's and Jim's and Peter's and whoever else's houses. And, sometimes, we'd even play a little Chinese stoplight, which allowed me the opportunity to wind up in the front seat. Does life get any better than that?