A summer day when the ordinary became extraordinary

For many children, the Christmas season is magical, but for me, there was a different special time that came around once a year: summer vacation, when a bunch of ordinary days added up to an extraordinary season.

I was about 8 years old when I became aware of how I felt about summer vacation. Whether it was the first day or a month into it, the day began with no alarm clock. As I sat down at the kitchen table, I looked around. The big cat was in its favorite chair, the coffee percolator was making its usual gurgling noises — no fancy coffee or machines back then — and the Lucky Charms cereal box was on the counter — just like always. Yet, things felt lighter and brighter. It seemed like conversations with my sisters took on a different tone — almost jovial instead of arguing. My mother seemed more relaxed, most likely due to less mediating.

It should be remembered that in the 1960s and ’70s, kids played outside all day — unsupervised — there were only about seven TV stations — no cable or even a remote — and all the shows were on reruns anyway. There was no summer camp structure: kids just hung out and, despite no cellphones, parents seemed to know where their kids were.

Mornings were unstructured with bike riding to the “little store” on Fifth Avenue in San Rafael, the park or a friend’s house. The summer vibe followed us around as the warm sun and slight breeze permeated the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle with buzzing sounds of insects all around.

After lunch, we headed to the tennis club for an afternoon swim. We knew that we belonged to the club so our father could play tennis on the weekends but we appreciated being able to go swimming and order from the snack bar. Yet, we got in trouble if we charged too much candy. More summer scents drifted by me: suntan lotion, chlorine and hot dogs from the snack bar grill. I would find a friend since it would reduce the number of times my middle sister dunked me under the water. My mother lost herself in an Agatha Christie mystery under her wide-brimmed hat. She did take a dip in the pool during adult swim as we made our way to the snack bar, never failing to bring her back Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Back home, we crowded around the “box TV” to watch “Gilligan’s Island” or “Get Smart.” After dinner, we played Red Rover or Spud with the other neighbor kids. Since there was a fairly big age range, we younger kids would try and listen to what the teenagers were saying. Other evenings, we slid down the large hill in the neighbor’s backyard on flattened cardboard. The brown and dry hills really made the cardboard fly! Before we knew it, the whistle from our deck came at 8:45 p.m. — time to head home. As I walked downstairs to the bunk bed I shared with my middle sister, I wasn’t even thinking about us arguing who was going to turn off the light. I felt the special glow of another summer day coming to an end.

Perhaps it just comes down to a bunch of ordinary things that add up to extraordinary days: an almost magical combination of a special summer freedom, simplicity, spontaneity and gratitude knowing it will happen again next year. And maybe we reminisce about the special days of summer vacation or the Christmas season because, even as adults, we want to add some of the spirit and sparkle to every day.

Lane Dooling is a Novato resident and the marketing and social media coordinator at the Marin History Museum. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 600 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write How It Is in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.