As I write, we are in the middle of a heat wave described by meteorologists as a “heat dome” covering many states. Advisories have been issued, and we older folks have been encouraged to avoid exertion, if possible, and to stay hydrated.
Hot summers and stretches of ninety-degree days in southwest Michigan are common.
Heat didn’t really register to us when we were kids. We ignored the humidity and sweat and played with intensity all day.
We rode our bikes, pedaling as hard as we could up the road and coasting back towards home. As we got older, we could venture farther, and we knew every pothole and shady tree on the route.
We loved the cool woods. We flipped over rocks, poking at the bugs which scattered, and collected worms which lay, vulnerable and unsuspecting. We gathered branches, then sat on fallen trees and discussed future fort plans.
We felt free during those summer days. Our only interruptions were mealtimes and Mom’s reminders to “come have a drink.”
Waxy, paper Dixie cups with our names scratched into the sides, sat at the kitchen sink, which we used and reused all day. Most kids did. We didn’t have water bottles which adults and children tote around today to stay hydrated. Usually, when we realized we were thirsty, we drank from the garden hose and cooled our arms, legs, and faces with the icy well water.
Sometimes, at the end of a sweltering day, we piled into the car and took a drive. We called these “snoop tours,” as my dad liked to meander the rural roads, checking on crops in the fields.
Most family cars did not have air conditioning in the 1960s. We cranked the windows down, and we draped our arms or rested our sweaty heads on the frame. Cars also had handy triangle-shaped windows, “vent windows,” in the front doors which could be opened and angled. The air flow was intense and could be directed to various parts of the car. While it wasn’t air conditioning, it worked well.
I’m sure these trips were a relief for our parents. Our tractors lacked air-conditioned cabs or even a roof over the seat, so Dad worked the fields in the direct sun, his only protection a long-sleeved shirt and baseball cap. Mom worked just as hard in the stuffy house and had refereed our shenanigans with her usual good nature. And these tours included a destination with a cool treat.
Occasionally, after we kids got our slushes or cones at the Tastee Freeze, Dad would turn the car towards Bev Brakefield’s Korn Krib on the corner of W Avenue and Portage Road, and we crossed our fingers, hoping her stand would be open. Our mom loved Bev’s caramel corn. Even on the hottest summer nights, Bev popped and sold her delicious “Korn,” the lights and banners festooning her little food trailer — beacons of summer. Like the ice cream shops in area villages, Bev’s was a summer fixture and a favorite stop.
Those were good days.
Bev passed away last January, and along with her obituary, her daughters sent her picture and a short article which ran in the Vicksburg Commercial when Bev closed and sold her little business in 1982.
What a pleasure to remember Bev, simple summer treats, and how our generation used to beat the heat.
It’s a Fine Life
