How many times do you remember hearing that growing up? This video is all about then and now at the lake. Watch
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Good one!
Pretty heavy beard for a 15 year old
One of my room mates had a much thicker full beard at 15 or so, he is of Russian heritage and is the swarthiest guy I ever knew. When I first met him in 1975 he was the hairiest guy around with a ginormous full beard and long hair. He is a Russian Orthodox Priest in California now and looks like one of the dwarves from the Lord of the rings. He is also one of the smartest guys I have ever known. Father Dmitri, great guy.
My poor parents. My brother and I were the “Mom, watch me!” or “Dad, Dad, look what I can do!” kinds of children.
Among my most cherished memories is growing up with a real river (not a creek) flowing past our house. Summertime. Hot, hot, hot. Dry. Sounds of grasshoppers in the grass. The hot, dusty tool shed bench littered with half-empty tins of innertube patch and rubber cement. Those lids with the little grater on top to scratch the tube surface. The smell of rubber and cement. The tire pump. The pong, pong, pong of inner tube bumping on the ground. So hot. River so cold, so quiet. Sun glinting off the water. Shivery goosebumps. Going under. Ahhhhh.
Water skippers. Periwinkles.
This made me laugh. Last summer, I took my grandkids to Pensacola and it was like this a lot of the time.