Those were the days....

I can't believe that I still see children bouncing around in moving vehicles without being buckled in. Now I admit to having a hard time at first adjusting to the law, but when my son was small, there was never any question about it and I was vigilant. However, I do have to laugh when I remember how it was back in the day. A typical Saturday in the summer would most always involve going to Hubbard Lake. My Mom always had some boring, household chores to do that would prevent us from getting to the lake say, at around 9:00 a.m. when we were all set to go. Comes Aunt Shirley to the rescue. My Dad's only sister would almost always save the day. Auntie would come burlin' ' into our driveway with a convertible that seemed a block long. As I remember there was white leather upholstery in that thing. What ever happened to white leather upholstery, and back seats that held 5 people? Seemed the heights of glamour to me. My brother, sister and I and our two cousins would pile into the back seat and sit on TOP of the back seat, completely and unsafely untethered by any kind of seat belt. Auntie would have just had her hair done in a Marge Simpsonish beehive. She had large sunglasses and glossy coral nails, with matte coral lipstick. More glamour! So with the radio blasting and all of us singing "Stand by your Man", or "Boy named Sue" we would proceed to our day at the lake. It was a 10 mile trip through the country to get to our watery Eden. With her hands at 10 and 2 on the giant steering wheel, and the pedal to the metal, Auntie obliged our impatience by making the trip in about 6 minutes. Yes, the speed limit was 75 and we generally were flyin' along about 85 miles per hour. We tried to wave and yell to everyone we saw so they could bear witness to and envy our total cool. At those moments, there was no one we would rather be and no where else, either. Livin' large, country style! Sometimes it would necessitate Auntie maneuvering around a tractor and hay wagon driven by some poor unsuspecting farmer. We would wave and hoot like some deranged one car parade. Upon arrival, in a total cloud of dust, all five of us would pile out (with troll hair) and run (did I mention that we were already in our swimsuit, so as not to waste a moment) whoopin' and hollerin' straight to the waters edge, down the dock, and one by one, go cannonballing into the water. My brother would perform his famous belly smacker. More whoopin' and hollerin' of course! We then, sufficiently cooled off and dusted off too, went back to help stake out our spot. Blankets, coolers and the a.m. radio were positioned. Aunt Shirley, unlike our own Mom, would further indulge us by letting us drink all the pop we wanted and eat chips all hot and greasy and salty. Such decadence! Back in the water, just barely avoiding getting mulched by a boat propeller, we played till we could see the rest of the parents joining us for the barbecue. Aunt Shirley taught us to play canasta and various forms of solitaire and sitting at the picnic table, those games would begin. She always looked so cool smoking her long cigarette, and of course, we couldn't wait to be old enough, say 15 or so, to be able to blow smoke rings too. Generally then, we would all be shooed away so the grown ups could have time to catch up on their week. "Little pitchers have big ears" being the agreed upon sentiment. After hot dogs and whatnot began the most tortuous 30 minutes of our week. Yup. No swimming for 30 minutes on our full stomachs. Horror stories about such tragedies were repeated again--even though we knew 'em all by heart. Groan! After about 212 inquiries to my Dad, the official timekeeper, everyone got sick of us asking--and let us go back in the water. Just go ahead and drown yourself, then. I have recently read that said "rule" is an urban legend and all that caution about the danger was a total waste of time. Given the insane way we arrived at the water, I guess you could never be too careful! After swimming till pruned, we would pack the show up and make our way home. You can bet that with Dad driving, it was a considerably longer drive home. About 11 minutes. We had to slow down now and watch for deer that inexplicably dart onto the road at dusk. Again, no seat belts in case we picked off some hapless creature doing around 70 miles per hour. After our day of living dangerously, us kids fell into bed and slept soundlessly on the fresh, line dried sheets that kept my Mom from joining us originally. Ahh.hh.h Exhausted and happy, I would smile and know that in only 7 days, barring rain, we would get to do it all over again.....And Aunt Shirley--thanks for the memories! xo