Summer Madness

Every summer, on the first day that we fired up the grill, my father would play one of his favorite songs. To tell the truth, it was one of my favorite songs too.

The singer talked about all of the wonderful things that come with summer. For example, spending time with friends and no more school.

Then he said, “We'll have fun in the sunshine. We can picnic and swim and barbeque.”

That’s the part that I would scream out.

Yes, the first barbecue of summer was a family tradition that spanned several generations. It started with my great-great-great-grandfather. Back then, they would “picnic and swim and barbeque” at the lake. Now we have a pool in our backyard.

The way my father tells it, his great-great-grandfather wasn’t trying to start a family tradition. It wasn’t like he woke up one morning and announced that he was starting something new that the family would still be doing generations later. It just happened to be a warm, early summer day, and he wanted to cook something memorable for his family. So, he drove to his brother’s house and told him to come along with his wife and kids. Then he packed up his own wife and kids, along with enough food to feed a small army, and took everyone to the lake.

Back then, nobody had the fancy grills we have today. There were no temperature gauges or propane tanks. There were no grills using charcoal briquettes. To cook outdoors, they dug a shallow pit in the ground, surrounded it with stones, and built a fire. Once the flames died down, they cooked directly over the hot coals.

Back then, the menu was pretty simple—chicken, corn, potatoes, and whatever else they could bring along. The adults sat around while the food continued to cook. The children ran, played, and splashed in the lake.

They enjoyed themselves so much that they did it again the following summer.

Then again the summer after that.

Before anyone realized it, the first barbecue of summer had become a family tradition.

As the years passed, each generation changed it a little. My great-great-grandfather brought along a metal cooking grate, so they no longer had to balance everything over the fire. My great-grandfather eventually introduced an actual charcoal grill. According to my grandfather, this caused a minor family controversy because some of the older relatives insisted that cooking on a grill wasn’t the same as cooking over an open fire.

Every generation believed that they were the best. Both the next generation and the previous generation weren’t doing it right. Or at least not as well as they were.

I don’t know who added ribs, but my grandfather expanded the menu to include burgers and hot dogs. My father added brisket. Somebody else brought potato salad and baked beans. Watermelons somehow sneaked their way in years ago, but everyone agrees that they belong there.

Around the time that grills came into the picture, the location changed too. The family stopped going to the lake and started gathering in backyards. My father continued the tradition after he bought his first house. He added something of his own—music.

He played the song inside the house. Somebody asked him to turn it up, so he brought his stereo system outside. From then on, music became a major part of the tradition.

Every year, when he fired up the grill for the first time, he played that same song. It became our official announcement that summer had begun.

Now the tradition belongs to my generation. And somehow, I became the main host.

Instead of driving to the lake, family members from all over come to me. Instead of digging a hole in the ground, we have a grill on the patio. No longer do we splash around in the lake; we have a swimming pool only a few steps away.

I enjoy every part of it.

Another song that always captured my attention was made before I was born, yet I loved it. It started with the words, “Hot town, summer in the city. Back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty.”

This was one of the main reasons to hop in the pool. When the temperature reached 98 degrees, swimming was a wonderful way to cool down. But my pool was only big enough to hold my extended family. Just a few blocks away, there was a community pool. Hanging out there was how friends got together.

The community pool became the location of another tradition. While it didn’t date back as far as my family tradition, it was still old. That was the mid-summer pool party.

Halfway through summer, the entire community would come together for a huge community-wide party. We called it the Mid-Summer Pool Party.

This all started about 25 years ago. It was just a simple plan to give everyone in the neighborhood something to do during the hottest part of summer. Parents started to notice that their children would rather meet at the community pool, even though a few had backyard pools. My father was one of those parents.

The first one wasn’t anything spectacular. A few folding tables were set up outside the pool area. Families brought chips, sandwiches, cookies, and drinks. Someone brought a radio. There were swimming races for the kids and a diving contest for the teenagers. The adults mostly sat around talking and laughing while trying their best not to get splashed. Many played cards while the children played. Everyone had such a good time that they decided to do it again the following year.

Each year, more and more families started attending. Local businesses donated food and prizes. Games were added for people who didn’t want to swim. Eventually, there was dancing, water-balloon fights, relay races, and the famous cannonball contest that somehow became more competitive every year.

Throughout it all, one thing never changed.

The party was always held halfway through summer.

But this year was different.

It started off just like any other. I wore my “Dad” T-shirt and shorts that were sure to embarrass my children. My wife had on a swimsuit that I thought didn’t cover enough. My children put on swimsuits that they thought were cool at the time.

We arrived at the pool and continued as we normally would. My youngest son and daughter signed up for the cannonball competition. My two oldest signed up for swimming races. My wife signed up for the swimsuit contest, which wasn’t fair since I was the judge.

It was all done in fun, and nobody was too competitive.

Which was good for me when I gave my sister more points than my wife.

Everything changed around noon.

I felt something cold land on my arm.

I looked down.

A snowflake.

I tried to convince myself that I was imagining things, but then another landed on my shoulder.

Then another.

Within seconds, snow began falling everywhere.

All games and music stopped.

People, young and old, stared at the sky.

Mesmerized, nobody moved for a few moments.

“Snow? Mid-summer? How could it possibly be snowing?”

Nobody said it. But we were all thinking it. After all, it was 98 degrees.

But that’s when the wind started.

The temperature dropped so quickly that people began screaming and running for shelter. Parents grabbed their children. People abandoned towels, food, shoes, and everything else as they rushed into their houses, their cars, the community center—anywhere they could go to get away.

From 98 degrees to 38 in just a moment.

The snow began to fall so quickly that it took only a few minutes for the swimming pool to disappear beneath a blanket of white.

We watched through the windows as snow covered the grass, tables, chairs, and sidewalks. It accumulated faster than anything I had ever seen.

It continued to fall for nearly an hour before the sun came back out.

Those of us in the community center were stuck there. The snow was packed against the doors. I was sure that those in their homes were dealing with the same problem. I feared for those in their cars, since most of them were buried.

As I looked out the window, I saw something that only a child would think of.

A group of children who had run home were returning. They were wearing winter coats, snow pants, boots, gloves, and wool hats.

It was just a few at first.

But then, dozens of kids were back outside.

Swimming was replaced with making snow angels. Water balloons were replaced with snowballs and snowmen.

Despite a bad situation, they were having fun.

Lots of it.

The adults stood inside watching.

Eventually, someone turned the music back on.

The Mid-Summer Pool Party wasn’t over.

It had simply become a snow day.

The next day, the snow started to melt. Summer returned. Eventually, everything returned to normal.

The following year, the community center’s air conditioner was turned up to make things as cold as possible. Water chillers were added to convert the indoor pool into an ice-skating rink.

All in all, a new tradition was started.