a most memorable summer

2020 will be a summer everyone will remember. And not for good reasons.

But there have many other summers I vividly recall; and those make me smile.

1972: traveling across Europe, largely by myself, and largely via hitchhiking.

1981: doing outrageous things while being in lust with John S.

1989: meeting Eric in the Hamptons and falling madly in love.

And then there was the summer of '67. I was just 16.

My parents had rented a summer home in Dennisport (on Miramar Ave) with their best friends Elaine and Eddie Kladky. Just for the month of July. I think they paid $1,000 in total.

The house was an old rambling place, but next to it was a short sandy path leading directly to a gorgeous Cape Cod beach.

Elaine and Eddie came with their three daughters, all about the same ages as me and my two sisters. Linda was a year older than I, and importantly, had her driver's license. 

My mom remembers that the owners later offered to sell the house (fully furnished) for $35,000. The land alone would be worth millions today.  Oh, if only my parents had said yes.

When I recall that summer, I think of:

• never wearing shoes;
• driving around in Linda's VW bug;
• rain, every single day;
• listening over and over to the recently released Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band;
• and John DeMeo.

John was a high-school friend of Linda's. He came to visit one day and that was it. I was star-struck.

When John wasn't working at a local Howard Johnson's ice-cream stand, he'd come by and we'd all go to Marconi Beach, or Newcom Hollow, both in Wellfleet. There, John and his friend Sumner would surf, while us girls would watch. I didn't care what we did, as long as I could see John. Through my young and innocent eyes, I had never met a more handsome boy.

After the summer ended, we kept in touch. I even spent a weekend in his dorm room at Assumption College. I had to sneak in as girls were not allowed back then.

But like most summer romances, this one faded, and we soon lost touch.

Over the years, I would occasionally try to Google John to see where he was or what he was doing, but he didn't seem to have an online presence.

Today I get a text from Linda.

That's all she knew.

I still couldn't find John online, but did find an obituary for his wife who died in May. He had three children, lived in Maryland, and I hope had a good life.

We hadn't been in touch for a thousand years. But still, hearing John's name made me recall a time when that teen-aged boy made a 16-year old think she had fallen in love. 

And for that, I will always be grateful.