BrowniesWeltanschauung

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Summer Break

From the ages of about 11-15, I spent a good portion of every summer break with my cousin Katrina in KY. She is two years older than I am, but that never made a difference to us. We were inseparable. We waded our way through all of our adolescent crap together. We were family, but we were also the best of friends.

Trina and I learned about boys together, kissing, periods, cramps, fierce chocolate cravings, competition, bras, boobs, shaving, makeup, eyebrow tweezing, clothes, curling irons, all the girly stuff that goes with being a teen.

I remember a particular evening we were planning on going roller skating but wanted to buy new outfits before the big night. Mind you, this was in the early to mid '80s. We bought Michael Jacksonesque outfits that we thought were fabulous and at the time, they were. The black leather pants, however, were NOT a good idea for roller skating. We sweated our asses off, but not a soul was aware that we were both suffering. We played it cool and kicked ourselves later when no one was looking.

Our summers were full of lazy, sunny days at the swimming pool, or tanning ourselves in the backyard. If it rained, we'd go into town to the arcade and scarf free Arby's sandwiches and turnovers from Trina's aunt.

One year, we spent a lot of time doing yard work and house cleaning for my aunt. She paid us for all of our work and we saved the money to spend at King's Island. Uncle Bill promised we'd go there on the way when taking me home and we did. We bought t-shirts, had silly pictures taken together, ate a TON of amusement park food, rode everything at least twice, got sunburned, and fell asleep as soon as we got in the car. It was the perfect end to a perfect summer.

There were many occasions that we had to dodge my younger sister. She always wanted to know what we were doing, where we were going, with whom we were going, etc. She was the informer in the family, the baby; we were having no part of it. On one particular occasion we went as far as disguising ourselves (as boys) so that we could get past my grandmother's house without baby sister recognizing us. It didn't work, but it's a great old family story over which we all have a huge laugh at Christmastime.

My aunt Kathy was an overgrown teen herself. She used to drive us around, pre-driver's permit days, and she'd honk at the boys for us, give us extra money for the movies, play whatever we wanted on the car radio, and generally be 'cool.' She was my favorite aunt in those days, probably because I spent so much time with her, but we were close. She was like my summer mom.

She's dying now, aunt Kathy. She's been ill for a long time with debilitating arthritis. Now she's dying of lung cancer. She's on a ventilator and my uncle is expecting her to go any time now.

We've not seen each other much since I was a teen, annual family reunions is about the extent of our visits, but I remember those summers. I remember them well.

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