THose Su-hu-mer Niii-hights....

Summa Lovin
Had me a blaa-ast.

Summa Lovin
Happens so fast...

In French. Why? Because its hilarious.



I crashed my banana seat bike down memory lane today when a blast from the past sent me a series of messages on face book.

This fellow was a friend of the older neighbor kid, sort of the pet of their family, the sidekick from a sitcom. He was a little strange and i found him annoying. He had a nickname that I thought lent to his annoying-ness. I spent a lot of time rolling my eyes at he and the neighbor kid, since I was pals with his sister. They did things like burn tattoos on their asses with firecracker punks and laughed hysterically at the similarities of the words
"Spam" and "Sperm".

Jerk-offs

(Why do I remember this shit? I can't even remember where I ate lunch yesterday. Wait, it gets worse.)

I will admit that we saw a lot of each other, but usually those idiots were flipping us off or spraying us with the hose while we worked on our sun tans. Occasionally we played evening games like "Hope to See the Ghost Tonight" (Ghost in the Graveyard) with the whole street, but we wouldn't hide with those dicks.

My memory pretty much fades here as I got older and too cool for neighborhood nonsense. Twin and the neighbor girl remained close, so she still spent a lot of time there, but I had melted into my clique of mean girls and breathed them like air. Mean air, but air nonetheless.

For whatever reason I don't remember, we decided to spend the night at the neighbors and sleep on their trampoline. (Remember when trampolines didn't have safety nets? Awesome.). The boys made a big game of usurping our plans and stealing the tramp. Dicks. We fought in spurts about it before dark, cussing at each other with our junior high vocabularies.

Fuck you you fuckin' fuckers! (sorry, Mom)

As it got later, we settled into sleeping bags and blankets, pillows and, I'm sure, a stash of junk food. We ignored them and they ignored us. It was a big tramp. Later, we found common ground on something and chatted while looking up. Several drifted off, but Skippy and I continued to talk in the dark.

And then it happened.
I kissed the neighbor kid's weird friend.
A lot.

For a long time.

((whispering)) Hours.

I have never said that out loud before.

And, I never really spoke to him again, and never told anyone. Those who shared the tramp inevitably found out, but we
just
didn't
talk
about
it.

20+ years later.

A Facebook message from the weird guy.


 How's life been treating me?
(Benign convo, I like it..)

Very well, very well....

The weird kid was pretty much the same as I remembered, except it was strange to hear him talking the same way in his 40's as he did in his teen years, like Captain Cool Guy. He big-wheeled about being a musician and his rockin and rollin' lifestyle and inquired about mine.

I shared my less than rock and rollin' lifestyle. I hoped my friendly but polite responses would maintain a decorum which would allow a polite avoidance sidestep to our teenage encounter.

But, no. Skippy waded right in, telling me he has fond memories of me, especially the night on the trampoline.

Siiiiigh. (internal screaming)

There I was, 37 years old, embarrassed.

In my kitchen, I looked over my shoulder even though I was alone in the house.

I think I blushed. I know I did.

How does one respond to this forward discussion of a decades long make out session? I awkwardly continued the polite banter, saying "Ah, of course, the trampoline", and "thank you for your kind words", "crazy summertime", etc.

I didn't remember it quite this way, or as being meaningful. I changed the subject and we spoke about his music and his children, his parents whom I had met several times (his mother looked like Dolly Parton).

He told me I should consider myself lucky that we had spoken because he is very busy producing.
I smiled.

He also told me he is on a spiritual quest, and asked me about my faith. I said I was an Agnostic.
I didn't feel judged.

He said he appreciated the night on the trampoline and wouldn't take it for granted.
I wondered what that meant....

 He said he does a cover of a song that fits the bill for him and I.
I cringed, see below.



I teased him that he was making much more of this event that I imagined he would, a traveling musician and producer, ; -) He wrote back about his nostalgia for the summers at the neighbors house, eating buttered popcorn and stealing sodas from the fridge when we all spent the night.

I felt bad for not remembering that part.

In those days, I considered myself out of his league. Yet, somehow in the dark, with the stars above and everyone else asleep, Skippy and I found some common ground that made us connect on a figurative and then literal level.

I still consider my old ass out of his league.

So why was I so flattered to be reminded of the episode 25 years later?

Probably because I am 25 years older and I blushed like I was still 13.

Thanks, Skippy. I think you might have made my day.