Summer Walks

For some reason, I spend much of every autumn pining for summer. This longing probably reflects a combination of my preference for hot weather and a slightly misguided nostalgia for the carefree days of my youth. As someone who was not especially fond of school as a kid, summer vacation—and the freedom from school rules and homework—felt intoxicating.

There are a number of summertime moments that stand out in my memory. Among my favorites is the summer between freshman and sophomore years of high school, when my best friend, Douglas, and I walked the neighborhood pretty much every night, thinking and talking about girls. We were both very shy (and dealing with fairly significant acne outbreaks), so talking about girls was as close to love as we were going to get.

We attended an all-male high school with a student body of 5,000 boys who were collectively angry about being isolated from female companionship. School life was hard. Add to the mix that Douglas and I were an odd pair—he was 6'3", physically awkward and clumsy, and I was 5'5", wore glasses, and was a bad dresser—so it’s easy to understand why a summer free of school was so important to us.

This particular summer started with rather aimless walking and talking. Eventually, however, our excursions and discussions became more focused (or maybe obsessive is more accurate). We became totally love-struck by the Koziol sisters. Douglas was gaga over Kathy Koziol, while I was completely smitten with the slightly older Val Koziol. I’m not even sure how we first learned about these girls, but they nonetheless became the near-singular focus of our summer.

Every night, Douglas and I would walk the two miles from our houses to the Koziol house, and we would proceed to walk past it at least eight to ten times. Our hope was that eventually we would bump into Kathy or Val—or both—as they walked, came home, left home, or maybe even sat on their front porch. Upon this anticipated serendipitous meeting, our plan was to charm them with witty banter—and voilà, our romances would begin.

Well, this walk was our routine through June and July, without a single sighting of the Koziol sisters or even anyone else from their family. Clearly, they were not a very social or outgoing brood, but we longed for them nonetheless. We were discouraged but hopeful.

Finally, as we approached the Koziol dwelling one night in early August, Douglas and I simultaneously spotted not one, but both Koziol sisters sitting on their porch, chatting and listening to AM radio. This was our big chance—everything we had been waiting for all summer. Unfortunately, we didn’t really have a plan for what to do if this situation ever arose, and we were already so close to the house that there was no time to discuss one. So, we just kept walking closer and closer to our beloved Kathy and Val.

When we finally reached the porch, we made our move. In unison, we both simply turned our heads to the right so we were facing the sisters and blurted out, “Good evening,” as we continued walking by, maybe even quickening our pace to get away faster.

After a few blocks of silence, Douglas turned to me and said, “Next time, we’ll stop.”

We never did.

~ Len Abbeduto