"Free At Last, Free At Last,..........."

The Old Man feels a certain kinship to all children this time of year. The school year is winding down at warp speed and the ecstasy of the just-around-the-corner summer vacation is beginning to permeate kids like the smell of gym socks permeates a locker room. It's so easy to remember the feelings the Park Street Battalion had when mid-May was behind us. They revisit me often. The windows to the school rooms were opened and the smells and sounds of spring flew in on us like a tsunami. There was always one class or another on recess. With envy, we would listen to balls hitting bats, swing set chains rattling, and the normal cacophony of "kiddom". It seemed our turn would never come. It was pure torture to be forced to deal with our 300 year old teacher droning on and on about some king in some country in some year at war with some king in some other country in some year. There was always the smell of honeysuckle. It covered a fence on one end of our school's playground. Some of us would squander our entire recess just pulling blooms off the vine and sucking the sweet nectar out of them. Oh how we longed to escape.


By this time in the school year, we had endured the "Dark Ages" of January and February when no holiday gave us respite. We'd suffered through May Day where we were forced to learn some really goofy dance routine. Boys should never be required to skip. At some level, I'm probably irreparably damaged, and may end up on Oprah. We'd learned about all there was to be in that school year and the last couple of weeks were pretty much worthless.


Finally, the big day arrived. Out we were. Usually a half-day, we'd dawdle our way home with that great sense of emancipation only a kid who'd been cut loose can feel. There is no better feeling in the world than the feeling of total irresponsibility. As our chant went, "No more lessons, no more books. No more teacher's dirty looks."

Safely ensconced in our bookbag or in our lunch sack would be our final report card. You always wanted to see two things: "Conduct" or in some grades, "Citizenship" carry an A. Of more importance, was the phrase, "Promoted to 5th grade". In those days, children learned early the lesson that society eventually teaches. You will fail or succeed based on how hard you apply yourself. So when "society" came calling, we already knew the outcome of the contest. Those lessons serve me to this day.

The battalion wasted no time immersing itself in summer activities. Sleep late, head out to play ball, or war, or cowboys, or even a three-day Monopoly game on Marvin's front porch. All too soon though, a summertime spectre appeared on the horizon. It afflicted our parents like a virus. They became almost zombie-like; chanting in unison, "Vacation Bible School starts next week, Vacation Bible School starts next week, Vacation Bible School starts next week. "

And we knew, we just knew, things were gonna get weird.