The End of Summer

Here in Tennessee, students have been back in school for nearly two weeks. Around the rest of the country, start dates vary, but I think by the end of this week, the rest will also be back in school.

I can’t quite remember what constituted our summer vacation dates in Indiana during the 1960s. But, I’m pretty sure we didn’t head back until after Labor Day. To the best of my recollection, the bookend events marking our weeks off from school were the Columbia Yacht Club sailboat race from Chicago to Michigan City and back in late June, and the Tri-State sailboat race from Chicago to St. Joseph, Michigan, to Michigan City, Indiana, and back to Chicago on Labor Day weekend.

On race weekends, the population of our Long Beach enclave and the adjacent areas along Lake Shore Drive would swell to even greater numbers. The inflated summer population made up of wealthy Illinois residents who owned second homes near the lake was already three times that of the regular school year. It was nearly impossible to drive a car down the narrow lakefront road in an attempt to reach Washington Park and get close enough to view the beautiful spinnakers of the sailboats as they made their way across Lake Michigan to the Michigan City Yacht Club. Nevertheless, Dad and I went every year to do just that.

During the summer of 1969, Dad and I arrived at the yacht club for the June event earlier than usual in an attempt to avoid the worst of the traffic. We roamed along the docks watching and waiting for the boats to arrive. Dad started talking to another man and I sat on a nearby bench happy that summer vacation was starting. A girl, about my age, came and joined me. We started talking.

Aurelia was from Winnetka, Illinois, just north of Chicago. She explained that her mother was one of six children and that her mom’s father had bought them each a home to summer at during the break from school. “Where is your home?” I asked. Aurelia said that it wasn’t really a home, it was more of a cottage, and that it was at Stop 20. “I live at Stop 20,” I said. I became very excited about the prospect of having another girl so close by. My best friend and her family were already away on their annual three-week road trip. Other girlfriends, too, were on family vacations, away at camp, and enrolled in day camp programs. Early summer was a tough time to find playmates. We talked a bit longer and found to our mutual delight that not only did we both live at Stop 20, but her family’s cottage was at the end of my street.

After all the sailboats were in, we went with our dads to head home. Aurelia and I wasted no time meeting back up. She showed me around her cottage, I showed her around my house. We met each other’s moms, and became fast friends.

Throughout the rest of the summer, we got together pretty often. I would wander down the street in the hopes she’d be home, and she would wander up the street to do the same. We played Sevens, a tennis ball game, Cat’s Cradle, different card games like Spit and Crazy Eights, and we rode bikes. When some of the other neighborhood kids returned, Aurelia joined in to play Hide ’n Seek, Kick the Can, and Chinese Jump Rope.

All too soon, however, the end of summer arrived along with the reappearance of the sailboat spinnakers. On the day the boats headed back to Chicago on the last leg of the Tri-State race, it was also time to say goodbye to Aurelia.

I wanted to give her something as a going away present, something I thought she would really treasure so she would remember me and the wonderful time we had together. I thought and thought, dug around in my closet through the things that I treasured, and found the perfect object. During a business trip to San Francisco, Dad had brought back two Chinese fans. Each had a unique and beautiful design on it. It was hard to decide which one to give up, but I finally settled on giving Aurelia the one with the dragon on it. I carefully wrapped it up in tissue paper and tied it with a red ribbon.

Excited to be giving Aurelia her gift, but sad that it would be a whole school year before she came back, I walked down to her cottage. When she came to the door, I said, “I brought you a little something to remember me by.” She looked surprised. She opened it up and exclaimed, in just the way I had hoped, how much she liked the fan. She thanked me several times. I started to say goodbye and wish her well, but she suddenly said, “Wait here a moment.”

I stood outside her door waiting for what seemed quite a while. Finally she reappeared with something wrapped in tissue paper with a red ribbon. I was puzzled as she handed it to me for I was not expecting anything in return. I opened up the gift to see a No. 2 pencil, already sharpened, with what looked like teeth marks on the end near the almost non-existent eraser. I looked up into Aurelia’s beaming face. I smiled, thanked her, told her to have a good school year, and headed back home.

I didn’t know what to think at the time. I couldn’t be sure whether I was insulted, regretful that I had given away such a treasure, glad that I was a much better gift giver, sad that the summer was ending, or annoyed that she had somehow diminished the moment. I still don’t really know what to think. What I do know is that the cottage was sold, and I never saw Aurelia again.

Copyright 2019, DJ Anderson