What You're Saying:

   We visited my parents home in Ohio on most summers when the kids were young. During one visit, their Grandpa Pelke found a land turtle by the railroad tracks. Of course the kids were excited to see it, so of course, we had to take him back home to Chicago with us. We took him in a styrofoam cooler. We gave him the name Mr. Turtle. Mr. Turtle was only one of many, many pets that my kids had growing up. Each pet was special, but Mr. Turtle was special because he went with us on our summer jaunts to the beach. I remember my son Robbie being very protective of him. He always made sure the other kids knew that Mr. Turtle was not a stray, that Mr. Turtle belonged to him, and that Mr. Turtle had a good home. (The kids got to play with him in the backyard a lot.) Some time after we’ve had him for awhile, we found out from a talk at the zoo that Mr. Turtle was actually a girl turtle. But, we took a vote as a family and decided to keep the name.

--submitted by Anita P.
Chicago, IL

   What a fun time in the neighborhood when May Day rolled around! May Day ushered in summer for us kids. It meant making a May Basket, picking flowers to fill that May Basket (lots of dandelions), and then the thrill of walking down the long valley to the neighbors. Next came the exciting part of hanging that creative endeavor on the neighbor’s door and yelling, “May Baskets!” We’d run away as soon as we yelled out and hope they couldn’t catch us. I’m not sure what would have happened if they did, because we always escaped back up the valley. To this day, I wonder what that elderly couple felt about our fun, or what they did with all those dandelions. Those seniors were always kind to us, and made each one feel very special all year-round.

--submitted by Sr. Mary Ellen
West Allis, WI

   Summer is a time of celebration for a yogi. We celebrate the end of the school year with the Summer Solstice Celebration on June 21st. It is time to stop, dance and celebrate the joy of summer. This past summer, my family and I went to Paris and the South of France to meet up with my son who was there on a class trip with his school. We all share a rainbow of energy in France traveling to new places and eating new and delicious food. Upon returning to Evanston, my family and I spent the days savoring the sun shine and the beach. We walked our two Golden Retrievers twice a day giving them a chance to get exercise and feel the sunshine. Both dogs love to swim in the lake too.

--submitted by Lisa W.
Evanston, IL

   I used to love watching fireflies during the summer when I sat out in the backyard with the dogs in Tennessee. Fireflies and shooting stars and a hot cup of tea.

--submitted by Frances W.
Chicago, IL

   I remember one afternoon in particular. We were having one of those late summer rainstorms. It was not cold nor windy; just warm rain coming down in buckets. There was not much to do except look out the window and wait for the rain to stop. There was no television, no telephones, not even board games to pass the time. Lolo Pepe’s house where we were staying overlooked the town plaza, which was surrounded by the town hall, the church and the school, as well as a few other homes. The plaza was an ideal gathering place for kids since it had a large grassy area along with a basketball court to the side, and the adults could watch us from a distance. As I stood by the window with a couple of my cousins, watching the rain come down, Tia Rora came over and wondered out loud if it would be fun to play basketball in this rain. Our eyes lit up and within seconds we were like puppies wanting to be let out. After a few clear reminders about the dangers of slipping on the wet pavement, Tia Rora gave us permission to play outside, with one final condition: we had to take off our leather belts. In those days before elastic waistbands and nylon microfibers, leather belts were part of basic apparel. They were also expensive, and Tia Rora did not want us ruining those belts by getting them soaked in the rain. This hardly mattered to any of us, so off we went. We stopped to pick up a few more friends, reminding everyone to leave their leather belts so Tia Rora won’t get blamed, and in no time at all we were about a dozen young boys playing basketball in the rain. Now, if you ever get a chance to run around in soaking wet khaki shorts, you will quickly realize that these things will not follow you when you jump. Unless they are a snug fit, they will be wrapped around your knees as soon as you use both hands to catch a pass. We spent the next hour or so giggling and laughing in the rain, playing basketball with one hand while holding our shorts with the other, occasionally mooning the people who have now gathered at their windows watching us with delight. What started out to be a gloomy day ended up being quite enjoyable for a lot of people, just because one person did not allow a little rain to spoil her spirit.

     Thank you very much Tia Rora, Ning, for showing us how to squeeze sunshine out of a rainy day, and for saving our precious leather belts.

--submitted by Orlando M.
San Leandro, CA

   I’m an Evanston native, and as I was sitting under a tree in my yard last summer, I started to think of how Evanston has changed—really how a lot of things have changed. I mostly walked to school back then. We didn’t have buses, but we did have streetcars run on iron rails and by electricity, which ran on Sherman Ave. from north to south Evanston. Downtown Evanston was simple: a few businesses, 3 or 4 department stores, 1 or 2 banks, restaurants, 3 movie houses, a library, and even empty land. The movie houses were something else-- the Coronet and the Varsity, and I can’t remember the other one. But I do remember that it was special and a real treat to see movies back then. Also, I liked to watch delivery wagons go from door to door. In the summers, the ice wagons were especially busy. They sold large cubes of ice the size of small storage boxes. People put them in their wooden ice boxes. These are just some of my reminiscences. Summers are funny this way. They make you think of old times.

--submitted by Chris R.
Evanston, IL

   One of the events that stood out during summer 2007 was our trip to Brookfield Zoo. My parents, sisters, their children, my daughter and I took that 26 mile travel to the zoo. My daughter and I had paid a visit several months earlier with the daycare, but didn’t have the time to see everything I had wished for her to see.
The one thing I wanted to do was to experience “Sting Ray Bay”. For a small fee, you were able to “pet” the rays. Basically, they were in a uniquely shaped tank, swimming ‘round and ‘round. We were allowed to place our arms into the water (of courses having washed first), and allow the rays to swim against our hands. For an even smaller fee, one could purchase shrimp (and something else) and actually feed the rays. You would just place it between your fingers, and the rays would literally swim along and suck the food from your hand. They tried this even if you didn’t have any food. It was a strange, one of a kind feeling, the “sucking” – weird and exciting. I was completely surprised that my daughter (5 years old at the time), joined in. The majority of rays were about the size of a large wok, a few were a bit larger. There had to be at lease 100 of them in the makeshift home. When you least expected, one would slap the water with it’s fin, and you’d get a little wet.

     It was a tremendous experience. As we were playing with the rays in the water, I thought about God and Creation. And I thought about my daughter and her place in the world. Her “tank” is the earth, and she looks to me to feed her—body and soul. I thought about my many blessings, including this time to “smell the roses”.

--submitted by Tammy H.
Dolton, IL

"The Summer Day"
by Mary Oliver. Originally published in her 1992 book, New and Selected Poems

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass,
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

--submitted by Diane M.
Evanston, IL