My favorite summer memory was the year our family took a camper down to visit my Uncle Grant in Melbourne, Florida. This was in the mid-70s when we could listen to the AM radio station WLS from Wisconsin to Florida, so we never had to change the dial. It seemed the only two songs in rotation were Abba‘s “Dancing Queen” and Glen Campbell‘s “Rhinestone Cowboy.”
We didn’t have to stay buckled in so we rode on the top bed of the camper for a bird’s-eye view of our road trip. When we got to Florida we visited the ocean for the first time. There was no such thing as sun block with SPF 50 back then. When we visited Disney World that evening I was miserable and dehydrated. I lay on a shag carpet that night just to get some relief.
Some days it rained at the beach so back up to the top of the camper we went to entertain ourselves. My brother Charlie pointed out a little bird that ran back and forth from the waves and narrated this bird’s misadventures. We dissolved into a fit of giggles, all sun burnt and full of Florida orange juice.