Education, etc.

My students graduated yesterday morning. My family cracked open our first watermelon of summer and I was instantly transported back to my childhood, my grandparent’s house, and summers filled with more watermelon than my stomach wanted to hold. Did you really have a childhood if you did not have a watermelon stomachache? As I was thinking of those days long lost to the responsibilities of being an adult, I began to think of the innocent childhood experiences time has lost and technology has replaced. I am not talking about summer jobs, I am talking about the childhood experiences replaced by progress and instant communication.

When I cracked open the watermelon, I laughed and called my husband over because there was one, lone black seed. I was tempted to see if I could still spit it like a champ. Somewhere in all the nostalgia came melancholy. When was the last time I got in trouble for spitting watermelon seeds? When was the last time I ate watermelon, cut in quarters, without a fork, with the bright flesh cold and crisp, watermelon juice from ear to ear, and not a care in the world? When did I last hear my grandfather say not to swallow a seed or a watermelon would grow in my stomach?

Those were the good days, before adult responsibilities and life took over. We were just kids having a good time on a hot summer day. Of course, we had to be rinsed with the water hose before we could go back in the house, but that was part of the fun.

Don’t get me wrong, seedless watermelons are yummy, but I would be so happy to find an old fashioned seeded watermelon, oval in shape, a few gaps in the ripe bright-red flesh, and loaded in black spittin’ seeds. I am sure my mama is getting ready to loudly sigh and mumble something about not being able to turn me into a lady. But I wouldn’t care because I would be enjoying a childhood moment where my adult responsibilities take a back seat, and I can challenge my children to one of the finer points in life: a watermelon seed spitting contest.

That water hose was our summertime lifeline. We washed off the dirt, drank the cold water, threatened each other, even tortured each other with that ice cold water from the hose. No one was safe in the yard if the hose was out. No one dared to get the mail, water the plants on the front porch, or come out to tell us anything if we had the water hose charged and ready. We were vicious little pirates led by our captains of overgrown boys we called our fathers or grandfather, and no one was safe for the barrage of hose water. The best was when our moms would come out, watching us with that threatening eye and body posture than meant business, only to be ambushed from behind by someone who had snuck a hose from the other side of the house. They would screech, their backs would arch, and they would yell something about someone being hateful, awful, or something we did not hear while we dissolved into fits of giggles and belly laughs.

And oh man did that hose water taste good! Cold, crisp, and easy to get to. It was an oasis on hot summer days, a chance to rehydrate and return to whatever action we were up to. There was no talk of germs, cancer causing chemicals, and no one needed a glass. You simply turned on the hose, waited for it to get cold, and drank your fill. Many years ago, when I was a single mom, trying to raise two small boys in a house I bought for the three of us, I enjoyed my moments of drinking from the hose while watering my garden. Something about it just felt right, good, honest, and homey.

That water hose was often hooked up to a sprinkler when we wanted to play and the yard needed watering. Our squealing, dancing, running, and jumping would move around the yard as the lawn was watered. By the time we were tired, we were chilled to the bone on the hottest days of the year, our lips were blue, we were covered in chill bumps, and we were certain to sleep early and well that night. We were outside, we were simi-supervised, and we were lawless, feral children having mostly innocent fun.

Where did this kind of fun go to die? And when did we kill it? Because we most certainly did. We are now told drinking from the water hose is dangerous. Kids, including my own, spend their summers talking to their friends on electronic video games rather than playing in water sprinklers. Plus, there is the very real worry of water shortages in some areas of the country that limit the ability to water the lawn.

I say we find at least one day this summer to be kids, especially with our kids. Let’s play in the sprinklers with our children and grandchildren, eat watermelon until we are all messy, and need washing off with the hose. Let’s sabotage each other with water guns until someone gets the water hose out and sprays everyone, even the supervisors, I mean spectators. Pick a time this summer to get back to simpler times with your family, friends, and neighbors. Have a field party, block party, neighborhood party, and unplug from the phone, the PS5, the text messages and video calls. Return to the innocence of childhood fun. I think it will be good for everyone!