For those of you alive and aware in 1980, do you remember that heat wave? I do. It was a son of a bitch to sweat through. These past few weeks I’ve been having memories of when I was 16 then.
I can remember walking through our house, with all the shades down trying to keep the direct sunlight out. No matter, I was sweating like a pig anyways. In the summer of 1980, I had cabin fever for god’s sake! You coped by staying indoors out of the swill heat but in doing so, you started going a bit batty.
I had to go outside to escape the house but standing in our backyard with that broiling sun was no relief either.
I had a ten speed bike back then when they were all the rage to have. I was riding the trails on the Turner reservoir and noticed the even hotter, more humid patches when the trail dipped towards the wetlands. It was so hot even the bugs in there stopped their chorus.
These memories are popping up now. I wonder why?
We had a thunderstorm just roll by here. Sure, it got cooler…and the dew points shot up to 70% as well. And to top it all off, the sun came out right after to bake that rain into steam so the air can be just as sloppy.
Just plain gross.
*****
Son of Sam, the Wicked King Wicker, aka David Berkowitz I remember as a well. He popped up routinely in the national news when he shot another women in the head every so often in New York city. “Son of Sam Strikes Again” you’d see in some papers. If you didn’t know, “Sam” was a neighbor’ dog who was possessed by Satan and gave orders to Berkowitz to kill, according to his lawyer’s defense.
In the summer of ‘77, my mother had an aunt who took some pity on her and invited us over her home for an afternoon. My mom had lost her husband and was not doing well at all. I never knew of this aunts existence till the day we visited, all of ½ mile away.
Our family never did visit our relatives that much even though all of us lived within…2 miles of one another. It wasn’t till much later did I find that there were undercurrents that took place decades before I was born. Also, some of our relatives I cared little for because I wasn’t used to real, heavy duty Irish alcoholism. My parents drank little and if they did, it would be the weekends.
I met this new aunt with some cynicism. What type of mental illness does THIS one have I wondered? Or, is this one a major BITCH?
I was pleasantly surprised to find out she was actually normal and treated me as a person. As a young teen, my view on most adults was a dim one since I knew many were complete fuck ups and had NO ground to stand on when they pontificated to me about life. I didn’t suffer fools gladly then and I really, really do not now.
Around 4pm the Providence Journal’s second edition came to the aunt’s house. I asked if I could read it. Fresh, virgin papers are better to read than ones passed through five people you know! I had laid it out on her floor and the headline had read: “Son of Sam Caught, NYC Relieved.”
Reading it, I thought out loud, “So many lunatics in this world..”
The aunt, who overheard me, responded: “Ronnie, get used to it, there are many more out there…and some you’re going to meet will be just a shade less crazy than Berkowitz.”
Wow, I thought to myself. This was one of the first times I’ve ever had a relative who made decent sense. Also, she was one person who didn't set off my own personal "smoke detector." We each have that, it rings LOUDLY when we meet new people that warn us to stay the hell away. If fact, my detector ran in reverse, it told me to get to know her.
However, we never visited again. I don’t know why. I had asked my Mom if we could go back but she just brushed the idea off. Mom was in no condition to handle much then.
I’m sure this aunt is long since gone now.
But, I still remember her.
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