The Glory Days

Ahh, the delectable harrows of summer. The sweltering sun, the incessant buzz of insects you can never quite locate, the all-out warfare upon the grimy waves of a public pool. Summer gave us quarter from education, gave us a sense of childlike joy to explore and play under the warm embrace of the sun. Summer is a pillar of our childhoods, as equally important as a concept as it is a season. You see, summer isn't just a time of year, it’s an experience.

Summer is a universal constant, an experience that people from all walks of life can agree upon. Even I, under the infernal Arizonan sky, adore summer. It is the season spoken of in excited whispers, a mythical time laden with social gatherings and exploration. I could babble on and on about why summer is important to the world as we know it, but that’s not why we’re here. We're here to delegate, to argue. What summer food reigns supreme, stomping out all embers of doubt from its inferiors on a throne of fire and bones?

To the people who say hot dogs, I ask you to please see yourself out. I love a good frank like any other chap, but as an Arizonan it’s nearly insulting to bring out hot foods on a molten-hot day. Tell me, oh-so-mighty hotdog savant, would you like to eat a warm frank on a balmy 112 degree day? If you answered yes to that question, please contact me personally, as I know a psychologist who could use a case study for their thesis paper.

Watermelon? An earnest answer, one that has my respect. To the watermelon enthusiasts out there, I can get behind your reasoning. No more than a month ago, me and my friends went to Target with watermelon ripeness guides in hand. We searched high and low, rifling through piles of produce like it was some sort of saw puzzle. Find the best, juiciest watermelon, or die. We did not die that day. Instead, we struck gold. We hauled a solitary watermelon from a tub of its inferior brethren, and ogled at the most perfect watermelon the world had ever seen. You know what it tasted like? A watermelon. It’s a delectable treat, but I do not consider the humble watermelon to be summer’s boon.

So. I’ve made a strawman argument insulting all hotdog lovers, and proverbially shook the hands of all the watermelon enjoyers out there. What’s my take on the matter? I would like a nation-wide drumroll, because the answer will shock you. Make sure you’re not wearing any conductive metals or standing in any body of water, because trust me, this is one shocking take.

I’m joking. I have what may just be the least agreeable take of all time on the matter, a ‘summer food’ that no other soul on this planet will agree with me on. Airheads rainbow sour strips. Woah, woah!! Don’t go, please!! Let me explain my reasoning here, friend.

Nostalgia, more than anything, drives us to answer this prompt. We look back on days long gone with a gentle fondness, desperate to relive the memories of the past in some small way. And so, we argue. What summer food is best? It’s not even about the food, it's about the experiences we relate to them.

So Daley, pray tell, why are Airheads rainbow sour strips so potently laden with memories for you? Imagine me in a dapper suit, straightening my tie before answering such a loaded question. Where do I even start?

As a child, we often shopped at a major grocer called Sam's club. It’s the estranged cousin of Costco, the kind of grocery store where everything you buy is inconveniently large. That said, when you bought candy from Sam's Club, you were dedicating the rest of your month to this candy.

So when we purchased an 18 pack of Airhead rainbow sour strip tubs, it was a nationwide endeavor to consume them. At a pace of one a day, the thing would last me two and a half weeks. As a kid, that’s an eternity. And so, once the sun had sputtered beneath the horizon, I would chow down. Arizonan summer nights are the perfect temperature. We get to pretend we live somewhere else for a few hours as the temperatures drop to the manageable nineties. I played plenty in sweltering heat, but the night time brought out a special calmness in me.

Daytime was the time for running about with water balloons, but nighttime was the time to tucker down and enjoy the fineries of life. By fineries, I mean dining on Airheads sour rainbow strips and watching Minecraft YouTube videos on my grubby little iPad. I know not the age of the person reading this, so I don't quite know if such an experience is relatable, but my generation loved YouTube to a fault as children. If you are older than I and can’t find relatability in this, I ask you to imagine a TV show or movie you adored as a child. The memories you feel with your favorite things are much the same as my own, and I hope the comparison can bring about a sense of understanding in why I cherish this memory so dearly.

In the days of yore, I could simply go outside, curl up into my wicker lawn chair, and reach a level of relaxation that monks would envy. These memories were some of the most serene experiences I ever had, a careless serenity that cannot be replicated as an adult. For all the Kool-Aid, all the hamburgers and hotdogs, and all the fruit platters in the world, I still have the strongest memories with this candy. Call me a fool all you like, but I stand on the same pedestal as everyone else. We all cherish our childhoods, and our foods of choice are mere catalysts to relive the past.

The candy was certainly good, don’t get me wrong. How could it not be, when its just colored gelatin with fruit extract and sugar? We’re drawn to candy like flies as children, and when we’re allowed our day’s nightly rations, we feast. I would prop my iPad up on my knees, snag a sour Airhead strip, and roll it up in my mouth. The citric sugar they put on top goes pretty quickly, but it's a kid’s equivalent of the salt on a margarita glass. It’s there to amplify the experience, and it succeeds very well in that field. I would savor these candy strips like each one was my last meal, chewing slowly and reveling the crispness of the night. Simpler times.

In youth, we laughed with an uproarious innocence. Every joke struck us in a deeper way, the innocence of youth making each quip seemingly witty and new. I found the jokes lining those videos hilarious, and dreamed of being a youtuber like them someday. Those dreams faded with age. While I will not name the youtuber I watched in my youth, I will note that he was recently arrested for alleged domestic battery.

Times change. Drastically.

And so it is, that all we’re left with is the memories. I’d do anything to return to those moments, those days of inward peace and tranquility. Aging does many things for us, but it most certainly does not make life easier. As a child you have everything laid out for you in the simplest terms, and every dream you have seems so amazingly attainable. As we live, as the years pile up and our dreams come and go, looking back on our childhoods offers us a brief respite from the harrows of adulthood.

If only for a moment, we relive those memories with every bite we take. Whether it's a bite of fruit, a chunk of hotdog, a sip of a beverage or a mouthful of candy, many of us can’t help but wonder…

Are our glory days really that far behind us?