Simpler Times? A Simpler Summer?

Every morning at 7 am, my newspaper patiently waits for me to rescueit from the wet grass. Bleary eyed before coffee, I try not to focus too closelyon the headlines that always attack me with higher gas prices, a war that drags on, my stock portfolio that is caving along with the price of my home.

I usually roll up the paper under my arm so as not to start the day with the latest revelations about abusive parents, priests and principals who betrayed a trust with children under their care.

Slogging back to the garage in my ripped slippers, I begin to forget the catastrophes and calamities around the world now just rolled up under my arm, and recall a simpler time- some would say- a more naïve and childlike, innocent time before 24 hour news and squawk radio telling us only what political stance they believe in. Before the internet, Facebook, MySpace and blogs, before the music became harsh and divisive, I recalled that a big news story was “How Long Will this Heat Wave Last?”

The answer in the 50s and 60s was in the music. Martha and the Vandellas told us that this feeling in her was “likea heat wave.” I saw in my mind’s eye news stories that focused on beach traffic and families at block parties with big galvanized buckets filled with ice, watermelons and bottles of Coke and RC Cola, maybe some Nehi Grape, too. A big news story was the number of people on a block who came out at night to sit on their stoops to escape the baking heat inside their small Cape Cod homes with no air conditioning.

The news of the night was the arrival of the GoodHumor man and how much money you could weasel out of your grandparents for the weekly Good Humor Special ( I loved the frozen eclair bar with almonds). That’s right the news in the 50s that really wasn’t new to anyone was that your grandparents lived with you or on the next block. The news today tells us of small children and their frightened Mom stranded atop a Ferris wheel at a county fair in Iowa and the local fire department rescues them after a few hours of a harrowing expedience.

The breaking news today tells us what to fear and who not to trust. In the 50s we only listened to Freddy Cannon telling us in his song about “Lastnight I went for a walk in the dark to a swingin place called Palisades Park” and he went on to tell us that “you never now how great a kiss can feel when you’re stopped at the top of a Ferris wheel, when he fell in love down at Palisades Park.”

Today’s headlines may report how a gang of boys may taunt a group of girls who are in school playground or a park. Fifty years ago Jan and Dean Torrance sang of a place called Surf City where with luck “there were 2 girls for everyboy” They swam, pulled out their surfboards and had blonde hair. Then they went home.

Why do we hear news reports of estranged husbands who take their wives and children hostage and then hold them while the police wait outside with guns drown? Didn’t Bobby Darrin simply call out to his “Dream Lover? Where are you, with a love that's oh so true.”?

We read studies detailing how marriages break up but years ago we all joined in with the familiar “Going to The Chapel 'cause we're Gonna Get Married Going to the Chapel of Love.” Today’s the day we’ll say I do and we’ll never be lonely anymore.” I guess the singing group, The Dixie Cups, was right. By the way, Breyers Ice Cream came in dixie cups- and was only a dime.

News articles debate how rap music is art and speaks a new language. Others believe it is hurtful, crass and divisive as well as demeaning to women and authority figures. Did someone say Little Wayne? In 1962, The Crystals told us “I met him on a Sunday and my heart stood still,Da doo run ron ron ron da doo ron ron.” She tells us of meeting Bill and her “heart stood still and when he walked mehome Da Do ron ron ron, da doo  ron ron.”

Well, what did they do when they were “Da doo ron running? A recent headline told us of protests in the streets in China,England, Greece and France. But do you recall the summer when Martha and her Vandellas gave us an “invitation across the nation for dancing in the streets.” From Philadelphia PA every day or don’t forget the Motor City. All you’ll hear is music, sweet music, there’ll be music in the air.” Inthe air today we only smell teargas and see nightsticks.

I’ve stopped watching the 11 pm news. At 10:50 I am told to tune in to the day’s disasters and tragedies. From 11 to 11:03 pm I hear about 2 rapes, four murders, an apartment fire and only 1 mugging of a 93 year old lady with a walker, news stories that rock you to a restful sleep, sleep sleep. Or was that Sominex? 

I prefer now to watch Seinfeld reruns. Better to giggle over regifting, Kramer, Yada Yada and sleep peacefully without a sleep aid. In New York City every summer, there seems to be a problem with the subways, buses and mass transit when the heat conspires with the humidity. Tracks go on fire, substations explode and bridges and tunnels are jammed for miles when the heat rises.

The heat also seems to bring out the worst in people as road rage escalates and domestic distress skyrockets along with the temperatures. As I kept moving up the driveway with the paper still rolled under my arm, I could not stop thinking of Nat King Cole and how he wanted to “roll out those lazy, hazy crazy days of summer, the days of soda a pretzels and beer.

He wanted to lock the house up and then he was set to go to the beach to see the girls in the bikinis but they never got ‘em wet.” Nat Cole wished that “summer could always be here” while thefolks at Con Edison and the MTA pray for cooling rain. Ah, those days of hot dogs, ice cream, and spitting watermelon seeds at the family picnic.

Another headline told me that with the cost of gas, I might get used to a “stay-cation” at home instead of annual getaway to Vermont or Cape Cod. I’d rather recall Connie Francis telling me “VA- CA- TION” in the summertime." I wanted to “put away the books, and be out of school” summer’s hot but I could play it cool. I’d be “on vacation, in the summer sun.”

Gary U.S. Bonds told us “School is out at last, “and we didn’t have to worry 'bout teachers and we could “root for the Yankees from the bleachers.” My first car was a ’58 Dodge Coronet with a 383 engine and it got a whopping 8 miles a gallon. Gas at the Bayway Circle in Linden, New Jersey,was only 25 cents a gallon so for a buck I could travel 32 miles.

For today’s close to four dollars a gallon, my car would have averaged 128 miles a gallon! Now that would allow me to take a great road trip. The only problem was that once I got 128 miles from my house, I would not have any money to spend since I only made $1.25 an hour as a busboy at Perkins Pancake House.

Sure gas and oil prices are up from the 60s but my Dad didn't have a gas grill, air conditioned bedrooms or a heated pool. No computers, cell phones and little else that burned fuel. Remember charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid or a big cake of ice in a galvanized tub that kept the beer and sodas cold for daysafter the picnic ended?

The energy was in us, not the electric devices. Now a few steps from the garage, I saw a glimmer of one headline on today's paper that spoke of an animal rights group. This led to my remembering other groups who wanted their rights protected. Women, civil rights, rights of the environment, rights of those in jail, immigrant rights.  

It seemed to me that the political attacks from those in the blue or red states were attacking mysanity. Couldn’t we all live together peacefully? Maybe Bobby Mc Ferrin was right when he told us, "Don’t Worry, Be Happy” or Bob Marley telling us not to “worry 'bout a thing cause every little thinggonna be all right.”