Summer was a glorious time for a kid growing up in the 60's and 70's. When school was out it meant playing outside, drinking from the garden hose, riding bikes, running through yard sprinklers and then laying on the hot sidewalk, shaking and shivering until we dried. There was the ice cream truck that would come down the street with it's chime melody playing, announcing it's arrival to everyone in the neighborhood. "The ice cream man is coming!", we'd yell as we ran inside for nickels and dimes to buy red, white & blue Bomb Pops, Drumsticks, and my favorite, the "push-up" which was a frozen cardboard tube filled with sherbet. Sometimes mom would load everyone into the car and take us to Eisenhower Park to play. The park had picnic and play areas, gentle running streams, a large lake where we would take bread to feed the ducks and lots of trees. I remember taking our shoes off, wading through the streams and then finding quiet pools where we would sit in the water and catch tadpoles with our hands. Those days were the best.
