My memory of childhood and youth are fading like gazing into the rearview mirror of that V-8 powered ’70 Mercury Cyclone with me pushing that pedal so hard I was bending the floorboard. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re in too much of a hurry to grow up, a problem I hear isn’t uncommon to us babies of the family.

There’s something about summer that makes me reminisce. I think about the season of watermelons and seed spitting contests. The season of summer that was more magical than Disneyland itself. The Boy’s of Summer time, the ping of the aluminum bat. And me trying to steal home base in the championship game, but getting thrown out at home plate by a kid named Franky McGill who threw as hard as Don Drysdale that ended the game…

But it was summer, so that made it okay, besides, we were having fun, me for darn sure. That was back when playing was more important than winning, before winning meant everything. Those were the days of summer before girls and women tied us up and twisted us in knots.

Time is different for children. God designed it that way. He doles out time to kids like a cool glass of lemonade that pours like honey. And we savored the time… but that time is passed.

So I remember the long days of sunshine, the jumping off cliffs and roofs into shallow pools, hitchhiking to the lake, racing buddies through the hot sand high stepping the water as it got deeper until it was time to dive into the coolness of the dammed up Colorado River water. I recall to remind myself that it’s not as it once was.

Lake Havasu City AZ
image courtesy of

Time has now yanked me to the other side of the equation. It seems like we just had Christmas… but the year is almost half way over. The watermelons are mostly seedless now… and hand cranked ice cream makers are antiques.

I think of times gone by to remind myself to yearn to “… teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” The days of youth weren’t filled with wisdom, mostly the exact opposite. So I also think of the grace that comes from God above that still finds me lacking wisdom, but granting forgiveness.

I know this summer will be gone in a blink. The summers are stacking up like old newspapers.

Slip and Slides are fancier now, but still pretty much the same. My aged eyes watch my grandsons try to run on the Slip and Slide… I knew it was just a matter of time before both of them ended up on their butts. Slip and Slides are still only as soft as the ground underneath them. They laugh it off and keep going. This summer is going to be an eternity for them, but it won’t last. Time outlasts all of us, by design…