Summer 1984

I think back on that season with fond memory.  It was 1984 and the summer before I went to high school.  Seattle summers were often full of rainy surprises.  As kids we became used to disappointment.  The joke was that the first guaranteed sunny day of summer in Seattle was the 5th of July.  The next guaranteed stretch of sunny weather was the week school resumed.  We were equally disappointed in the winter but that's a story for another season.

The summer between middle school and high school is a right of passage for young boys.  It seems the girls became women during middle school.  their fashions and maturing and all the things that make them foreign and fantastic and enigmatic to boys happened some time in those two short years.  We boys just trucked along in our boyish way, noticing the girls become women but having no tools to crack their conversation code.  Sometimes we showed off in some physical fashion but the only people we ever impressed were each other.  I'm not complaining, our genes were directing our sexual compasses in a singular direction but there was a vestigial innocence left to us.  Years of boyhood did not just blow away because Monica developed her curves.  Part of my innocence blew away when Monica developed her curves, but not all of it.  We still built forts and pulled wheelies and dared each other to smoke rolled up apple leaves.

We had no word for 'Tweens' back in 1984.  But if we did, it would have a footnote that stated tweens were separated between the early developing and the lazy-to-grow-up-boys.  A chart would included regarding the jocks, musicians and early facial hair growers among our gender, who tended to develop alongside the ladies and get laid well before the rest of us.  Sellouts!  Yes, we were jealous.

1984 was the grand daddy of all Seattle summers.  The sun showed up on the last day of middle school and just sat there for 100+ day, killing the lawn I would normally have to mow weekly and opening every door to adventure that one could imagine.

I have just walked away from the page for a while as a memory, long pressed into permanent storage has wiggled its way to the forefront.  I took a long walk with the dog and smoked a joint on the staircase between the old-folks' home and the grade school.  The dog is thankful for this epiphany.  I, however, am full of questions about the memory's possible existence, fantastical as it seems.  The memory must wait as this story continues.

1984 was the summer that actually happened!  Every long day's adventure was allowed.  Forts were made and then expanded.  Pits were dug to bury Playboys.  Late night games of Ditch-Cars evolved onto some fishing line and a stuffed cat doll we called Earl-The-Dead-Cat.  We would place Earl across the street, attached to the fishing line and, when a car approached, we would pull him over the road and watch cars skid and swerve.  Sometimes cars would stop and angry adults would get out and search for the little s***s who had pranked them.  We were way ahead of them.  Escape plans were involved in the creation of the game.  that is how boys work and plan.  But sometimes we would witness those sadistic enough to aim for Earl!  Judge 13 year old boys for playing a childish and dangerous game but I choose to judge someone who actually tries to hit a cat in the road.

I should introduce my compatriots in this summer of actual sun.  My best friend, Thor, who's house we always based ourselves out of, had the most mischievous mom who had two boys and a boy's sense of humor.  I always envied Thor's dad for finding such a catch, a lady with  a boys sensibility.  Tim was adopted and we just knew that.  Why?  I don't know how he introduced the fact that he was adopted.  But adopted Tim was and he was a crucial part of this summer.  Brett was the coolest kid I knew next to Jim.  I did not know very many cool kids but Brett and Jim were headed to the cool-kid part of high school with a brief stay-over in the summer on 1984.

It was August, early August and none of us boys had slept in our own beds in weeks.  We slept on cots on Thor's deck or in my yard.  We pitched tents and hung hammocks.  I can not recall a single shower I took that summer.  I remember plenty of lake water and even slipping, fully clothed into a creek in the ravine, but no actual soap and shampoo bathing.  Though, I am sure, at some point, my mom must have cornered me with threats and complaints about stinky boys.

We covered every inch of the woods between our collective houses and our adventures were now taking us into dangerous territory, basements and attics.  We searched our own homes first and then any relatives that lived near by.  Brett's older brother was married and we snuck into his house one afternoon while he was at work.  He had built himself a little music studio in the basement where the coal-storage had once been.  It still had that chemicle-underground smell to it.  Brett's brother, Tony had several nice guitars but none of us could play so we just strapped them on and wailed away open chords and made our best rock and roll hip gyrations.

This was all good and fine until Tim, pretending to finger-shred over his head, tipped back too far and fell back onto the hard cement!

Boyhood is full of moments like this.  One kid does something stupid, then another and then something bad happens.  Something bad always happened when we were having too much fun.  And there was always a silent interval between the 'Somethng Happening' and the 'Finding Out If Tim's Ok'.  That moment was always silent, wide-eyed and full of temporary remorse.  But this time it was not silent.  We were silent but the last clangs of the guitar were echoing loudly through the basement.

Tim's head had hit the cement hard enough to draw blood and was bleeding pretty good as head wounds do, but we were not concerned.  All of us had sustained injuries in our adventures those many summers leading up to, and including 1984.  There would be no doctors or parents involved in this, or any injuries shy of the disconnection of a limb.  Tim was ok and laughing it off.  There was a towel on the snare drum and Tim wrapped and tied it around his head like a sick patient from a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Emergency over, Brett climbed the stairs to the kitchen to go find us some snacks and find a cleaner rag for Tim's head.  That's when we noticed it!

"Holy s**t, Tim!  You bloke Tony's guitar!" exclaimed Jim.

"Waddya mean?" responded Tim defensively.  "It's fine!"

"No, look!  The tuner-thing on top, its gone!  You broke it!"

"No I didn't!  It was probably like that already!"  Tim did not enjoy taking personal responsibility for situations like this.  Perhaps a byproduct of being adopted. 

"Don't tell Brett, please!  Promise you won't tell Brett!" and Tim stuck the guitar on a stand at the very back of the collection.

He went on, "Please don't tell Brett!"

I stepped in, "Relax, Tim.  Tony's an a*****e and he gets drunk down here all the time.  I'm sure he'll just assume he did it himself."

The cellar door creaked open and Brett descended empty handed and with ninja-like stealth, a finger raised to his lips, signaling silence... We obeyed, confused.

Brett crept over silently and we all huddled, quiet as five boys could be to hear his whispered words.

"Someone's here." he warned.

"What do you mean?" Jim asked stupidly and a little too loud.  Harsh but quiet Shushes followed.

"I heard my brother's voice.  I think him and Mindy came home early for a Nooner!"

"What the f**k's a Nooner?" Tim attempted a whisper.

Thor answered, "How do you not know what a Nooner is, Tim?  Don't you even have parents?  It's like when a  mommy and a daddy love each other very much but can't wait until after dinner..."  Tim instinctively hit Thor on the arm for being a dick, drawing more shushes from the group.  But now he understood what a Nooner was.

As if on que, the bed springs began to creak slowly.  We all began to laugh and blush a little.  This was actually happening.  Adults were f*****g in the bedroom right above us, while we were trying not to get caught.

"We should bail, you guys!" urged Brett, who'd had enough adventure for one day.

"Hell No, Dude!" answered Tim.  "Mindy's hot as fuuuck!  We should go peek."

"Out of the question, dude!" Brett exclaimed, but he could see in all our faces that seeing a naked Mindy was totally worth any amount of risk!

--------

There is a certain organization to a cluster of boys in an emergency situation.  A natural understanding of stealth learned by watching the many military movies the '80s had to offer.  One person takes charge, in this case Brett, as it was his brother laying pipe upstairs.  That person makes hand signals that are universally understood by all boys and men in silent-emergency situations.  These signals transcend language and speak directly to the primal hunter in us all.  Complete silent communication.

Brett made a V with his first two fingers, pointed the fingers at his own eyes and then pointed them in the direction of the stairs.  We understood. We had our marching orders.  Then he held up his palm... Wait...  Yes, sir, we will wait...  Standing by.  Then he pressed his finger again to his lips in the Shhhhh signal.  No s**t, Sherlock!

Silently, the regiment made our collective way up the cellar stairs to the kitchen.  The bed springs' sound providing cover for our movements.  All focus was on the hallway ahead when silence was broken by the sound of the fridge opening.

Violent hand gestures from Brett were translated as "What the f**k are you doing, Tim?"

Tim was completely incapable of whispering it was a genetic flaw, and so he just sort of croaked, "I'm f*****g hungry, man!  All i've had is that Bagel Dog at Phil"s!"

More hand-signalling and the fridge was shut and we began again our silent march toward the creaking battlefront.

Brett's brother must have been giving it to Mindy pretty good because the spring-rythm kept getting faster.  I was suddenly aware of two things.  I was about to see my first actual, living naked woman and I was about to witness the act of sex, in all its mystery and glory!  Something that, in the future, I would certainly like to try.  But for now I just wanted to understand how it worked.  A little background taaining so I wouldn't be stuck with on-the-job-learning.

All of us boys, soldiers, pioneers had some vision of what we would see at the end of this hallway.  Dirty, heavenly, forbidden, shameful, transformational.  Surely we would never be the same after this!

we were at the door and it was cracked open just a bit.  We piled to the side of the door like Swat-Team soldiers.  A single military machine.  Slowly and silently, we leaned in, heads on top of heads wo we would all see this sex act and this naked Mindy at the same, life altering, Man-creating, boyhood-destroying moment!

Brett signalled us as the rythm of the bed reached impossible speed.  Honestly, what was he doing to her that was so rapid?

Brett started with three raised fingers.  On Three, we all understood.!

One-  Be cool, Phil.  Be Cool!

Two-  My God!  I can't believe this is about to happen!

A long pause, and finally...

Three-  We moved our pile of heads to the crack in the door, the moment upon us!

It was Thor who broke the silence.

"WHAT THE F**K?"

The bed springs went silent as, for whatever reason, the guitar in the basement tipped over and fell with an earth-shattering  TWWAAAANNNNGGGG!!!!

No one moved!  Just seven sets of eyes, 14 eyes in all searching to understand what was happening.  It was Brett's brother all right.  But it was not Mindy!  Not by a long shot!  It was Tim's Brother, Greg!

Instinctively, and without warning, both Brett and Tim puked through the crack in the door.  Well, half in the door and half splashing back on us!

----------

"We better bail, dudes!" shouted Jim and those four words split wide open the longest, strangest moment of silence I have, and perhaps ever will experience.

In spite of their awkward and exposed situation, Tony and Greg became the bullies they had always been.  They jumped off the bed after us.  I remember thinking, just get out of the house!  They won't chase us into the street naked!  But if they did catch us inside the house... God knows they would have to beat us to death, naked or not!

And so we ran.  Not in the organized manner as we had arrived, with our stealth and hand signals.  No, we were a mob of chaotic boy-fear and confusion and just a bit of hilarity.

This image I hold in my mind with equal parts distaste and humor.  Tony and Greg came bursting through the bedroom door as we were heading to the kitchen door.  I chanced a look back as both men slid on the puke-covered, hardwood floor, all gangly and easily bruised as they tumbled into each other on an entirely different way than before.  They thrashed a little getting up and were screaming obscenities and threats and promises of mortal execution as we bolted out the door and onto the lawn.  We were safe for now but this was far from over!  The two naked men stood inside the door yelling and shaking their fists but we disappeared into the woods at full pace, each of us with something unique to share when our lungs were no longer burning with exertion!

We had no plan as to where we would reconnoiter, but it was not an issue.  We were heading to the Blackberry Fortress.  It was the only safe place to go in such an emergency as this, when you were being hunted down by two older brothers.  Whether they were just being a******s or had just been caught Rogering each other, the Blackberry Fortress was the only safe place for escape!

When we got there we all bent over at the waist, panting and recovering as quickly as we could so someone could start talking about what just happened!  There were a few false starts that sounded like, "Huh, huh, huh, Tony, huh, huh, Greg!  Huh, huh, what the f**k?!"

But that was all until we caught our collective breath.

----------

The moment was still and silent.  Our breathing had returned to normal and everyone waited for someone to say something, anything.  We looked around in search of the first orater, eyes serious and probing.  No one said a thing.  Nothing!  And suddenly, there was nothing more to do.  No figuring or talking.  No worrying or planning.  Five boys had just experienced the most 'out of the ordinary' experience of their lives and the only logical response was simultaneous and uncontrollable laughter!  We fell to the ground and pointed at each other.  Tim with The towel tied around his head, the puke on his (all our) shirts!  The images of those two grown men in whatever position it was called where one seemed to be playing Leap-frog over the other!  The unmistakable reality that, whatever that position was called, Tony was most certainly "The Girl"!  That life-long bully taking it like that!  Oh, Jeezuz!

Tim and Brett were less jovial than the rest of us but had to admit the fart-joke humor of the situation!  Thor and Jim started playing actual Leap-frog over each other and snot shot out of my nose as I completely lost it!  I could barely draw a full breath and I had to admit that I would miss this crew as we all moved off into different high-schools.  Looking back, that was the last true, group belly laugh I remember until I had kids of my own.  And certainly the most unexpected.

Eventually, impending reality pressed toward us.  Jim said, "You guys, we need to get moving.  There going to find us here!"

"I got a plan" said Brett.  "Phil, you still have your camera in your pocket?"

"Yup, always!"

"Ok, let's just get to the other side of the Fortress and you guys just do as I say.  Ok?"

"Aye aye, sir!" and we all soluted!

We walked to the back of the Blackberry Fortress, ducked and eventually crawled on our bellies through the tunnel we had chopped into the spiky bush.  When we reached the exit, we placed all the clippings from the excavation onto the small opening.  We were now sealed off from the Fortress and the rural nature of the neighborhood meant that, to reach us by waling or driving around would be miles.  we may as well be on the moon.

The brothers finally reached the Fortress, still angry and menacing.  They were able to see us through the thicket but could not reach us.  Again, Brett took charge, signaling me to produce the camera.

He yelled out to them before they could talk.  "Hey, buttfuckers!  Before we get started you should know that Phil has a camera and got a bunch of pictures of you before you noticed us.  So we're just going to call this a draw and nobody needs to talk and nobody needs to die!"

"The f**k you did, you little liars!  You're all dead!"  But I just kept snapping pictures of them in the Fortress, giving them every reason to believe that I had used it before.

It was obvious by now that they were not going to call our bluff and, somehow, we had pulled off the ultimate crime as a team.  The two groups began to move off in their own ways.  The two men to some secret pact that would haunt them until their mutual divorces made their 'special' friendship less of a thing.  

But before they had completely gone out of earshot Brett cast one last salvo.

"By the way, Tim broke your f*****g guitar, Tony!  But we're gonna forget that s**t too, aren't we?"

We never really understood what Tony said in return.

----------

And we wandered off too.  Off to a few more adventures in that last and greatest summer before we would move on into young-manhood.  Seeing less and less of each other as the days, weeks, months and years went by.  Taking with us secret handshakes, secret military signals, secrets bonds, memories of secret Fortresses and those bones that build history from which we would all forge futures.  Not together, but not entirely apart.  Slowly wandering off into manhood and a world of nastalgia casting us each back from time to time to a place out of time.  A place that was as much imaginary as real.  That one perfect summer during that one crucial part of our lives where we were surrounded by the warmth and change that was the summer of 1984