Flashback Friday--Independence Summers

So first flashback is tricky but I'm going to start with:

Independence Summers

As a child my summers seem pretty dull compared to what my kids deem as a standard summer.
Although as a kid of the 80's the very fact that we had three months of no school was better than any far off vacation.  We seemed to have a lot of freedom, at least when I think about what my kids are allowed to do.  For instance I don't remember asking for permission to ride bikes around the various blocks by my house.  When I had friends who could ride bikes with me, we'd rouse up enough courage and change to go buy junk food at the "Pit Stop" the closest convenience store.  However trips to the Pit Stop were occasions of luxury as change was hard to come by.
Normally I'd spend my summer days with my favorite Homies--Carly and Christel.  We were inseparable as children.  Christel was our aunt however she was a year older than my brother and two years older than I
.  She being the youngest in my Mom's family meant that her brains were developed light speeds beyond my brother and I.  At my grandparents house she was expected to assist in many chores, help older siblings, and help shoulder what ever burdens my aging grandparents might have had to endure.  Needless to say our house was her summer retreat and my Mom would "steal" Christel away as much as my Grandparents would let her.  Which was fantastic for Carly and I as looking back we were like two hopeless, dopey kids, compared to the master mind that was our Aunt Christel.

*Picture evidence of how dopey the two of us could be together.

Don't get me wrong Carly and I had plenty of fun when she wasn't around, but memories of my childhood do not seem complete with out her present.  One of the happiest and simplest of memories involves the tree swing and the dilapidated old shed as seen in the following two photos.

*Christel is seen here on our fabulous swing.  My little sister (who was my nemesis at the time, is seen in the back ground looking all cute--as usual :)

Here you can see our clever tree swing. It used to have an itchy yellow rope with a tire attached to it. However the rope would leave plastic splinters in your hand and the tire swing and rope eventually broke after years of abuse by not only ourselves but all our neighborhood posse as well. The solution to our tree swing dilemma was finding some very nice silky feeling white rope (where it came from who knows!) and an old white plastic step from our newly torn down above ground pool. After some work we had our selves a swing. It was nearly as comfy as the tire, but you could go much higher and faster as a single rider verses 3-4 kids all shoved on a tire. Christel, Carly and I had endless fun swinging each other as hard as we could. Sometimes the swing worked beautifully and we'd fly high in the air, or spin like a maniac as we flew high in the air. And sometimes if you were being completely reckless on the swing, you'd smash right into that big old tree. However it was an unspoken rule, if you smashed into the tree it was your own fault for not spinning around and using your feet to kick off the tree fast enough. Ahhh... the 80's.

 On to other tales, like that old broken down shed (as pictured below). That shed was awesome. It was like a mini house, with no windows. The floor was sunken in, it smelled of mold (probably the dangerous, black mold kind), it was our sanctuary in the backyard. If neighborhood kids were getting on our nerves we'd hide in the shed and banish them from our moldy palace. For some reason, even if they weren't playing in the shed to begin with, the kids would whine and beg to be let in. Once the tension resolved itself we'd usher in the outcast and sit as happy as punch in our smelly, waste of a shed. As we became older and smarter the older kids of our neighborhood posse soon realized that inside the shed wasn't the true gem of the old structure. The roof was. Once your were big enough to sit on that roof you knew you had made in the world, or on our street at least. Many a 4th of July "black cat--home made grenade throwing" was done from that roof. It was also a pretty sweet spot to shoot off a bottle rocket as well. Eventually us "Missourah Dare Devils" decided on our own style of adrenaline rush. I'll term it the jump off the roof rush. As an adult I'm sure it would be a breeze to jump off the roof of that shed. But as a child of 8 or 9 it was terrifying. Christel and Carly both had a lot of guts and they mastered the jump long before I did. I'd stand and try to will my body to jump off that roof and each time I'd be a chump and whine about how scary it was. Finally one day, the shortest two kids on my block (the neighbor boys) were teasing me telling me how easy it was to jump off that dumb, old thing. The youngest boy was two years younger than me and I was feeling like a great big sissy. How dare they call me a scaredy cat and what not. I was going to show them! I ran to the shed climbed up to the roof--barefoot mind you, and with out time to think I jumped off the stupid shed like it was yesterday's news. I tried to act tough and I know I pulled it off to the neighbor boys. But dang, all mighty my feet suffered the shock of the jump and they were throbbing, like little drums where having a rock concert in my feet! That experience didn't stop me from jumping off the roof  many times barefoot after that.  But at least when I'd jump I knew what to expect.  So I guess I de-chumped myself by doing the right thing and jumping off that old shed barefoot that day.

*You can just make out how gross that old shed was, but we loved it to bits and pieces.  Here I am--it's not hard to see by the picture why I was the sissiest neighborhood kid of them all. I guess I'm not as "Missourah tough" as I thought I was hahaha!