My father and I had met up with my oldest brother's Boy Scout troop at a stop on the Silver Moccasin Trail when a baby rattler slid into camp and threatened some of the more squeamish travelers. With a roll of his eyes, the trailmaster nonchalantly grabbed the snake by the neck (if snakes have them) and lopped off its hissing head his with a worn, rusty hatchet. Minutes later that snake was skinned, drained, cooked over an open fire, and perched, still smoking on the plate in front of me.
When I was 17, after plenty of pouting and coaxing, my girlfriend and I jumped off of a bridge into the waters of the Balboa Bay, her scream following us close behind. I'm rather certain that I hit the bottom, draped briefly in soggy kelp and sediment, but she emerged in slow motion, flicking water from her skin like a younger, non-corn-rowed Bo Derek.
At 21, I got lost with some friends of mine and a bottle of wine in Venice, Italy, after a long night on the town, chaperoned by our hotel concierge. After meandering through maze-like foot paths and charming (so we thought) local shopkeepers, we somehow wandered into St. Mark's Square and ended our night dancing to the strings of an orchestra, playing in the open air under the watchful eye of the Campanile.
In our younger days, the lore of summer was its freedom. After nine months of purgatory spent behind a desk, serenaded by the less than sweet lulls of our now beloved teachers, the bell had rung and the world was ours.
No alarm clocks, no schedules, and most importantly, no rules.
But, that same lack of rules that led to summer adventures as children has seemingly robbed of us of our wanderlust as adults. No rules now means sleeping until noon, never setting foot outside, and watching 3 seasons of Entourage in one day.
As Walker Lamond laments in his charming Rules for My Unborn Son, somewhere along the line, rules got a bad rap. Rules give us boundaries and guidelines to work between and standards up to which we look. They narrow our focus and magnify our aim, enhancing our efforts to dirty up our hands, again.
So what if the rules we actually loathed as children were to lead us back towards the mythical, magical summer?
School's out, temperatures are up, and tan lines are in full effect. Vacations are booked, road trips mapped out, and for some odd reason, the 24 hour flu seems suspiciously active every Monday and Friday.
These are the days of which memories, memoirs, and movies are made.
While we celebrate the carefree throes of summer and the air of freedom it brings, let us not be bogged down by ample options or held back by an often paralyzing sense of freedom. Even summer needs some rules. These rules don't reel you in or strike a smile from you newly sun-kissed face, but they amplify your wanderlust and help provide a more focused, motivated outlet to relish in your hot nights and cool mornings.
These are your rules for summer.
*Note: these rules are obviously oriented towards men as I am not in the habit of telling women what to do, both in real life and on the internet. However, one of the hallmarks of living with dirt on your hands is the ability to draw what is useful from damn near any bunch of syllables, so there may or may not be a nugget or two of wisdom for the females. I make no promises.
CA Highway 1, en route to Northern California
1. No shoes, no shirts, no problem. They're called summer feet for a reason. Any endeavor that doesn't outwardly require any form of footwear should be seen as an invitation to free your feet. As for shirts, the last thing you should be thinking about when the mercury hits triple digits is adding another layer, no matter how thin it is. So, go primal, get some sun, and damn the farmer's tan to hell. Not comfortable without a shirt on? First, eat better, run some hills sprints, and then realize how overrated six pack abs are.
2. Sky's out, thighs out. In every moment shy of a boardroom or dinner date, your gams are dying to be freed. Not, that there's anything wrong with wearing thick cut selvedge jeans to a pool party, but there is. Length should be above the knee and below any area that gets you on an exclusive list of people who need to introduce themselves to their neighbors. Not comfortable with your legs? We've got a few ideas on how to fix that.
3. AC off; windows down. While it may be tempting to hole yourself up in your home or car when the temperature creeps up into the hundreds, I guarantee that the breeze of a ceiling fan on an outdoor patio or the wind in your hair going down PCH (or whatever you mid-westerners drive) feels exponentially better than 75 degrees, locked inside an apartment.
4. Hydrate and hurt something. Well, maybe don't hurt something. But, there's a reason why nobody drinks shandies in November or Pina Coladas during Hanukah. Summer is known for her drinks, and when you've downed enough water to sustain the quality of life expressed in #3, feel free to make the most of the season's menu.
5. Take fire, add meat. Aside from the fact that stove top recipes, oven roasts, and crock pot cuisine raise the temperature of your home by ten degrees, meat just tastes better when grilled over flame. Summer is the perfect time of year to practice your smoking, barbecuing, grilling, or whatever other crazy ways Texans have found to heat meat to appropriate temperatures. As bonus, you can take part in #1-4 while doing #5, preferably with some close friends nearby to tell you how badly you're burning the brisket.
6. Vacation early and often. This rule almost necessitates its own post. Instead of lamenting how you can't go to Cabo this year or how your totes fav hotel on Maui is all booked up, ask yourself this question: what is four hours from me in every direction? 90% of readers won't know the answer. Get out a map, pick a spot, pack a bag, wake up early, and go. Which story would you rather tell; how you relaxed on a beach in a country that only serves tourists or how you got lost with your best friend while trying to find a fabled Civil War hideout?
Nothing behind me, everything in front of me. As is ever so in a Chevy Chase film.
7. Keep a bag packed. I took part in a lot of road trips this past winter and planning and packing was a chore. Snow boots, layers, scarves, extras of everything in case they get wet, the list goes on and on. The glory of summer is that swim trunks, a tooth brush, a nice shirt, and sun block are really all you need to get by for damn near any trip you're taking. Keep a go-bag in your car or by your door and #6 may happen more often than you'd think.
8. Sweat is sexy. As temperatures climb, you have two options: spray enough cologne to rival a Hummer limo on prom night or just embrace it. Please choose the latter. If you dress the part (think Paul Newman in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; not Jack Black in Tropic Thunder) then you're not sweating, you're glistening. You go from a guy trying to hide the most basic bodily function to a man diving head first into the season. That doesn't mean you skip the deodorant, though.
9. Everything is better outside. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, workouts, concerts, movies, dates, dancing, and everything else that people can possibly do. If you spent your fall, winter, and spring in the Polar Vortex, I'm sure you'll be glad to be on the other side of that window.
10. Get on the water. As a boy, I took numerous expeditions down the Colorado River through Black Canyon on a canoe; days long camping trips that involved water gun fights, cliff diving, and occasionally tipping over at the behest of big, fast motorboats. I'd recommend such trips to anyone, but your summer plans needn't be so elaborate. Float down a crick on an inner tube, learn how to body surf, or just straddle a noodle in your neighbor's swimming pool. Whatever you do, get wet before winter rolls around, again.
11. Turn it up to eleven. There is nothing quite like the romantic notion of Charlie Parker drifting through the open air of your kitchen on a Thursday in December. That's not true. Music is certainly good year round, but it's always much better during the summer when played over backyard parties, late night board games, or blaring through the dashboard as you're drifting down the highway. Whether it's Frank Sinatra, Doris Troy, Blondie, The Walkmen, or even Miley Cyrus (but not Miley Cyrus) every summer is better with a soundtrack played behind it.
12. Think of the children. As age creeps up on us, it's easy to wake up one day and find that you've become the neighborhood curmudgeon or the dad who always says no. Hell, I realized last week that to my neighbor's kids I'm probably James Earl Jones and my dog is the beast from The Sandlot. Now think of your best summer memories as a kid. Did they involve some grumpy, old dream-ruiner telling you to keep it down at 6pm or to sit inside and stay out of the dirt? I sure hope not. So take your children to see the Grand Canyon. Let the neighborhood munchkins climb the tree in your front yard and for goodness' sake, throw the balls back over the fence.
"Mr. Eastwood, our football went into your yard, again..."
13. Ask a woman out. You know how you trudge all through the winter, grow a beard, pack on the layers, and then rejoice once summer comes around as you leap forth from hibernation into a pair of flip flops and wife-beaters? Women do the same thing, but instead of sandals and tank tops it's heels and sundresses. Once summer is gone, it'll be months before you see the thin, flowing masterpiece that is the sundress, again. Do not miss this chance. If someone catches your eye, stop breathing through your mouth, walk up to her and politely introduce yourself. Start a conversation, ask if you can take her dancing, or to dinner, or even to grab a drink (coffee is a drink). If she says yes, try not to squeal. If she says no, thank her for her time, be a grown man, and realize that the world doesn't revolve around you. And that other woman a few booths over has been giving you the eye since you walked in, FYI.
14. Put the phone down...but take plenty of pictures. This can be tough to balance, but both are equally important. You want to see the world through your eyes, not through a filter on Instagram, but telling your grandchildren about the time you got lost driving through the Trinity Forest is more meaningful if you have pictures to back it up. So, here's a solid standard: take candid pictures of your friends while they're genuinely enjoying themselves. Ensure that they do the same for you. You can swap shots later and rest assured knowing that you'll never ruin a moment by trying to take a selfie.
15. Enjoy and say thank you. It's no secret that the number of summers you spend in this life is small and gets smaller every year. Blink long enough and you'll open your eyes as an old man, telling stories to rowdy young kids. Just like #12, the stories you tell them will influence the goals they set and the adventures in which they partake. Make it worth their time and yours. This summer will never happen again. Do not use a minute of it wishing you would've jumped in the deep end or hiked beyond that trail-head. From now until the days cool down, ride that summer wind as far as your sense of adventure will take you and when September rolls around again, be grateful for the months you lived and look forward to the next one.
You are just one highway sign away from a remarkable summer chapter in the story of your life. Following some rules might help you write it more clearly.
Stay filthy.
DB
