Swampland.com

The Summer of '75 Was a Good One

Sometimes the whole concept of time just confounds me. When I am waiting for something in the mail, it takes forever. Same with time leading up to something I love, like the upcoming Music For Meds Benefit and the Winters Brothers Jam. I can still hear my mother saying, “a watched pot never boils.” And it seems to be true.

On the other hand, it simply blows my mind when I think back to the High School days that truly seem like only yesterday, and then realize it has been 35 years. What?

I was thinking today about one special summer. The summer of 1975. The summer before I became a senior. That summer seemed to go on and on forever. That was the summer my buddy Larry, my sister, and a group of friends hit Myrtle Beach wife open. It was great.

I have written before about those nights that June at The Bowery, enjoying the band Wildcountry, which would soon take on a name change to become Alabama.

But there was so much more that summer. The beach was so much fun. Hot days in the summer sun. Gawking at babes through my dark Ray Ban sunglasses. Listening to the Top 40 on the radio while getting sunburnt. Hits by Electric Light Orchestra (“Evil Woman”), KISS (“Rock and Roll All Night”), Foghat (“Slow Ride”), The Outlaws (“There Goes Another Love Song”), Amazing Rhythm Aces ("Third Rate Romance"), Lynyrd Skynyrd (“Saturday Night Special”),  and especially The Marshall Tucker Band’s “This Ol’ Cowboy,” my all time favorite tune by my home town boys.

That same summer, Larry and I got into all kinds of mischief. We used to camp out a lot, which was a blast. Actually, it got pretty hot that summer, and we moved several of our “camping” nights to the air conditioned activities room at my old church, where Larry’s dad pastored.

We’d set up in there and play cards, drink beer or Boone’s Farm wine, smoke cigarettes, look at Playboy magazines, act silly, listen to 8-track tapes and generally be guys. Lots of fun.

Larry and I also had the job of mowing the grass at the church and the cemetery, which was a trip. There were graves there hundreds of years old. Revolutionary and Civil War folks. And it was pretty challenging to maneuver the tombstones with a push mower while being careful not to step on an ancient grave that might give way and twist your ankle.

One thing I recall about mowing that big church yard was every once in a while hitting one of those things called “the devil’s snuff box.” (Lycoperdon perlatum, actually a fungus full of dust). The first time I saw one, I was about ten I guess, and my buddy kicked it. That cloud of smoke came out and made me laugh. In that old Mt. Zion church yard, you were liable to find one of those things every second cutting.

As the summer heats up, and the smell of fresh cut grass wafts its way through my open office window, I can’t help but think back to that one special summer 34 years ago. I click on my iPod to listen to “This Ol’ Cowboy,” a song that sounds as fresh to me today as the first time I heard it.

Yeah, that time thing really confuses me, but one thing is for sure, I have some solid gold happy memories from the summer of 1975.

Keep it Real. Keep it Southern.
Buffalo

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