Summer of Innocence

Yesterday I was driving through our small town. I grew up here. I drove some back roads to avoid traffic; these were the same roads I rode my bike on as a 10-year-old kid. I had a sort of flashback as I reminisced about those times of innocence. Summer seemed endless, as my only goal was to go swimming, ride my bike, eat Twizzlers in an old oak tree, and watch shows like Tarzan on my small black-and-white TV. I had a few friends, but I enjoyed my time alone the most. There was a sense of freedom as I rode my bike all over town. I had only a few responsibilities as chores at home, but the rest of the time I explored and worked on my tree house. The year was 1969, Apollo 11 was on its way to the moon, and I was on my way to the bayou with my pellet gun. I knew that when the streetlights came on in the evening, I had to make my way back home.

One day, Dad came home with a station wagon full of plywood sheets. We were going to turn the attic space behind my room into a getaway space I called “The Pad”. After we installed the plywood floor, I brought my small black-and-white TV in there, found some pieces of carpet for the floor, and added black light posters and a black light. There was an air conditioning vent that ran through the first floor; I cut a hole in it so I could get A/C in the Pad. I had two pet ducks, and I would bring one of them, Charlie, to the Pad to watch TV with me.

There is something to be said for the simpler times. I wish I could go back and relive my summer of innocence.

My Duck, Charlie, and I are watching TV in the Pad. Charlie was named after the Million Dollar Duck, a popular movie at the time.