Welcome to “What’s Your Story?”, the occasional Tuesday space where I invite YOU to participate in the writing. Every episode, I offer a new writing prompt. In 200 words or less, YOU get to tell YOUR story.
I love summer in Ohio. I love goin’ around the house with practically no clothes on. I love sleeping with the windows open. I love hanging out in the sun with the wildflowers and I love sitting on the front porch watching the world drift by.
It’s almost the middle of July and it’s time to start telling stories about summer. I’d love to hear yours. Think back to all those summers in your life and pick out one memory. Then tell us all about it.
Tip of the Week — If you’ve never participated in “What’s Your Story” before, this might be a good one to jump in on. It’s an easy one. What’s the first memory that comes to mind when you think of past summers? In just a few sentences, bring us back there with you.
Keep it 200 words or less. (Word Counter) Have fun. Don’t hold back. Leave your contribution in the comments. I’ll go first.
Throughout my childhood, I spent two weeks a year visiting my grandparents in Birmingham, Alabama. Granny and Grandad lived up on Red Mountain at the dead end of Lenox Road. Our playground included Redmont Road which was a winding hilly road of mansion-like homes that overlooked the city. There was very little traffic in the neighborhood and the streets were nicely paved with smooth blacktop — perfect for downhill skateboarding. While my three sisters did the things that sisters do, I would go off on my own and spend hours on my old school (1970’s) skateboard slaloming down those hills. Over and over I would walk to the top of Redmont and then choose my route down. For a fast adrenaline-filled ride, I could make the risky turn onto Lenox. I remember a couple significant wipe outs going that way. For a long slow ride, I'd just wind down Redmont past the thick forest and the rock wall practically all the way to Altamont Park. These hours by myself on those hills were the most formative times of my childhood. The combination of the southern breeze on my skin, the summer quiet of the mountain and the freedom of the ride touched me forever.
Capture the flag. I love-love-loved capture the flag. I remember hot summer nights playing hard and sweating and running and scheming. Banging in to the back kitchen door to get water or check in briefly with my mom, then ravenously going back out for more. My young skinny strong body just going for it. I loved the thrill of the game. It made me come alive. That was the definition of joy. I was a super quiet kid and spent most of the time feeling like I didn’t belong, and like something was wrong with me because I was quiet. When we played capture the flag I belonged. It gave me a place and a way to be. It cut through the noise and got right to the heart. Dang. I loved that game. That was summer for me. Then of course there was the ritual of counting mosquito bites afterwards. But the mosquitoes couldn’t come close to interrupting the joy.
When I think of Summer, my first thought is of Pine Lake Lodge. Riding my ten speed up the long hot hills on Summit Street, nervous my parents would drive by and yank me into the car for being so far from home. The friends I met with once I arrived, being better at the rings than the other girls but not too good to dissuade the boys…
I think about delivering my RC newspaper route every day except Sunday on my horse. It was easier on my horse than on my bike because of the giant hill on Meloy, plus I could meet my friends when I was done delivering. We would ride out to Gougler Park to swim with the horses and dive off the high dive; nobody was there to tell us we couldn’t! We would take the horses even further than our bikes, exploring about a ten mile radius that was our safe zone. My friends and I would take our horses to the county fair and we always met new boyfriends there. By the following spring we broke it off with those boys to repeat our summer fun plans…horses, swimming, exploring, and boys!
I remember Pine Lake Lodge and had the opportunity to take my kids there a few summers before it closed for good. It was so much fun and the fish tickled their feet.
The summers I spent at Camp Christian in Magnetic Springs Ohio. When I was in Junior High it was the Chi Ro conference and High School the Hiram Conference. The various Disciples of Christ Churches in Northeast Ohio youth attended there. The fun of being the Jumper at your assigned table in the Dining Hall. The singing praising and worshiping the Lord. Vespers every night with a fire, message and singing going and coming from. Wonderful friendships and time I remember crying not wanting to leave.
I grew up on a 1 block long street off of busy Richmond Rd in Richmond Hts., a suburb of Cleveland, OH. Behind the house was a nasty creek and then a woods. The woods held the marvels of an earlier time. There was the remnants of a sugar camp, a huge rock pile used for making grist mill wheels, the remnants of imperfect wheels, and grapevines. The neighbor kids and I created endless days being explorers, cowboys and Indians, circus performers, or settlers. We almost always went home to dinner with mud, minor scrapes or a wet foot from the creek. Swinging on grapevines, always dangerous, was so much fun.
This summer, I had an unforgettable experience with my friend in my mountain village, Kolindros, in Greece. The village, nestled in lush greenery, offered a refreshing escape from the city's sweltering heat. We spent our days hiking through the serene forests, where the scent of pine and wildflowers filled the air. One morning, we discovered a hidden waterfall, its cool, crystal-clear waters inviting us for a refreshing swim.
Afternoons were reserved for leisurely strolls through the village's cobblestone streets, where we were greeted with warm smiles and friendly hellos from the locals. We indulged in delicious traditional Greek meals, savoring dishes like moussaka and fresh feta cheese, often cooked by villagers who invited us into their homes.
As the sun set, we gathered in the village square under the shade of ancient plane trees. The evenings were filled with the sounds of laughter and traditional music as we joined the locals in their dances during the village's summer festivals.
P.S : Btw i've been listening to khaen rock on repeat, you're truly an inspiration much love from Greece!
Wow! What a beautiful picture you painted. Sounds magical. -- Thanks for listening to Khaen Rock. I'm glad to know it made it to Greece. :) All the best. Hal
I remember vividly the two summers I lived in the Philippine Islands. I moved there at the age of ten. My father was in the Naval Weather Service stationed at Cubi Point. If you’ve never experienced a monsoon it makes for a lousy summer break for school children. It would rain every minute every day and night for three weeks at a time with a few days of sunshine between if we were lucky. We still went to the pool to swim as long as there was no lightning. We spent a lot of time at the bowling alley, the library, and the indoor movie theater. There were many buses on the base that would take you wherever you wanted to go and it was safe to go by yourself. If we had to go out somewhere special we put our rubber flip flops on, grabbed an umbrella and carried our shoes and socks in a sack to be donned upon arrival at our destination. I think those two summers bred a sort of resilience to weather and it’s fickle ways. I think military family life in general bred a resilience in me that I will ever be grateful for.
I remember summers where as a kid I went walking in local woods with my best friend and we got lost.
We weren't really lost...just couldn't see the road for the trees. If you know that I mean.
I remember more recent summers of walking alone in countryside that was dry and browning at the edges. Bales of hay stacked up in intervals over a field.
I remember last summer, when a few days shy of my 50th birthday I swan in the sea off the east coast of England.
I remember sitting outside our flat on a warm series of days, on camping chairs, cat purring in the shade nearby. Books to read, cups of tea to drink, the warmth of sunshine.
I also remember summer 2019, temperature so hot the trains couldn't run. We had chosen the hottest day ever and the hottest place in England to travel.
I remember 2022, nearly 38 degrees Celsius a few days that summer. Hiding indoors from an intensity more familiar from holiday in Italy, not dear old Blighty.
This summer I wonder what I will later remember, because it's soggy and humid with almost near biblical rain.
Throughout my childhood, I spent two weeks a year visiting my grandparents in Birmingham, Alabama. Granny and Grandad lived up on Red Mountain at the dead end of Lenox Road. Our playground included Redmont Road which was a winding hilly road of mansion-like homes that overlooked the city. There was very little traffic in the neighborhood and the streets were nicely paved with smooth blacktop — perfect for downhill skateboarding. While my three sisters did the things that sisters do, I would go off on my own and spend hours on my old school (1970’s) skateboard slaloming down those hills. Over and over I would walk to the top of Redmont and then choose my route down. For a fast adrenaline-filled ride, I could make the risky turn onto Lenox. I remember a couple significant wipe outs going that way. For a long slow ride, I'd just wind down Redmont past the thick forest and the rock wall practically all the way to Altamont Park. These hours by myself on those hills were the most formative times of my childhood. The combination of the southern breeze on my skin, the summer quiet of the mountain and the freedom of the ride touched me forever.
Capture the flag. I love-love-loved capture the flag. I remember hot summer nights playing hard and sweating and running and scheming. Banging in to the back kitchen door to get water or check in briefly with my mom, then ravenously going back out for more. My young skinny strong body just going for it. I loved the thrill of the game. It made me come alive. That was the definition of joy. I was a super quiet kid and spent most of the time feeling like I didn’t belong, and like something was wrong with me because I was quiet. When we played capture the flag I belonged. It gave me a place and a way to be. It cut through the noise and got right to the heart. Dang. I loved that game. That was summer for me. Then of course there was the ritual of counting mosquito bites afterwards. But the mosquitoes couldn’t come close to interrupting the joy.
Me too, Jo! Thanks for the reminder. It was such magic. Fireflies and the best backyard in Ohio for the game.
When I think of Summer, my first thought is of Pine Lake Lodge. Riding my ten speed up the long hot hills on Summit Street, nervous my parents would drive by and yank me into the car for being so far from home. The friends I met with once I arrived, being better at the rings than the other girls but not too good to dissuade the boys…
I think about delivering my RC newspaper route every day except Sunday on my horse. It was easier on my horse than on my bike because of the giant hill on Meloy, plus I could meet my friends when I was done delivering. We would ride out to Gougler Park to swim with the horses and dive off the high dive; nobody was there to tell us we couldn’t! We would take the horses even further than our bikes, exploring about a ten mile radius that was our safe zone. My friends and I would take our horses to the county fair and we always met new boyfriends there. By the following spring we broke it off with those boys to repeat our summer fun plans…horses, swimming, exploring, and boys!
Pine Lake rings! …and the dipsy-doodle… and that awesome slide. Thank you for the memory. Delivering RC on a horse?! Wow.
I remember Pine Lake Lodge and had the opportunity to take my kids there a few summers before it closed for good. It was so much fun and the fish tickled their feet.
The summers I spent at Camp Christian in Magnetic Springs Ohio. When I was in Junior High it was the Chi Ro conference and High School the Hiram Conference. The various Disciples of Christ Churches in Northeast Ohio youth attended there. The fun of being the Jumper at your assigned table in the Dining Hall. The singing praising and worshiping the Lord. Vespers every night with a fire, message and singing going and coming from. Wonderful friendships and time I remember crying not wanting to leave.
Those were the days. Thanks for sharing, Wayne. :)
I grew up on a 1 block long street off of busy Richmond Rd in Richmond Hts., a suburb of Cleveland, OH. Behind the house was a nasty creek and then a woods. The woods held the marvels of an earlier time. There was the remnants of a sugar camp, a huge rock pile used for making grist mill wheels, the remnants of imperfect wheels, and grapevines. The neighbor kids and I created endless days being explorers, cowboys and Indians, circus performers, or settlers. We almost always went home to dinner with mud, minor scrapes or a wet foot from the creek. Swinging on grapevines, always dangerous, was so much fun.
wow. Love it.... the woods held the marvels of an earlier time. ❤️
This summer, I had an unforgettable experience with my friend in my mountain village, Kolindros, in Greece. The village, nestled in lush greenery, offered a refreshing escape from the city's sweltering heat. We spent our days hiking through the serene forests, where the scent of pine and wildflowers filled the air. One morning, we discovered a hidden waterfall, its cool, crystal-clear waters inviting us for a refreshing swim.
Afternoons were reserved for leisurely strolls through the village's cobblestone streets, where we were greeted with warm smiles and friendly hellos from the locals. We indulged in delicious traditional Greek meals, savoring dishes like moussaka and fresh feta cheese, often cooked by villagers who invited us into their homes.
As the sun set, we gathered in the village square under the shade of ancient plane trees. The evenings were filled with the sounds of laughter and traditional music as we joined the locals in their dances during the village's summer festivals.
P.S : Btw i've been listening to khaen rock on repeat, you're truly an inspiration much love from Greece!
Wow! What a beautiful picture you painted. Sounds magical. -- Thanks for listening to Khaen Rock. I'm glad to know it made it to Greece. :) All the best. Hal
I remember vividly the two summers I lived in the Philippine Islands. I moved there at the age of ten. My father was in the Naval Weather Service stationed at Cubi Point. If you’ve never experienced a monsoon it makes for a lousy summer break for school children. It would rain every minute every day and night for three weeks at a time with a few days of sunshine between if we were lucky. We still went to the pool to swim as long as there was no lightning. We spent a lot of time at the bowling alley, the library, and the indoor movie theater. There were many buses on the base that would take you wherever you wanted to go and it was safe to go by yourself. If we had to go out somewhere special we put our rubber flip flops on, grabbed an umbrella and carried our shoes and socks in a sack to be donned upon arrival at our destination. I think those two summers bred a sort of resilience to weather and it’s fickle ways. I think military family life in general bred a resilience in me that I will ever be grateful for.
Thank you for sharing, Donna. I can feel it. H
My Summer Stories
I remember summers where as a kid I went walking in local woods with my best friend and we got lost.
We weren't really lost...just couldn't see the road for the trees. If you know that I mean.
I remember more recent summers of walking alone in countryside that was dry and browning at the edges. Bales of hay stacked up in intervals over a field.
I remember last summer, when a few days shy of my 50th birthday I swan in the sea off the east coast of England.
I remember sitting outside our flat on a warm series of days, on camping chairs, cat purring in the shade nearby. Books to read, cups of tea to drink, the warmth of sunshine.
I also remember summer 2019, temperature so hot the trains couldn't run. We had chosen the hottest day ever and the hottest place in England to travel.
I remember 2022, nearly 38 degrees Celsius a few days that summer. Hiding indoors from an intensity more familiar from holiday in Italy, not dear old Blighty.
This summer I wonder what I will later remember, because it's soggy and humid with almost near biblical rain.
Thank you, Sharon. The summers just keep adding up. I wish I’d taken notes on every one of them. 🌞
Don't they just, Hal.
Ps. I realise that wasn’t one particular memory, but snapshot of several. Great prompt though, Hal
I hope so. :)