I lived almost seven years of my life in various parts of the south. Did I like it? Sometimes. Was it a different world that did possess myriad of great things? You bet. I'll tell you though, as a Catholic from the north, the Civil War is still going on in some of those deep southern parts. I can't imagine just how terrible it was to have much darker skin down there back in the day, and even now. Dealing with such a problem on a daily basis can do one of two things to a man, chisel him to a hardened, bitter person or provide an education on how bad things can really get and learn not to worry about the little trials in life.
Junior Walker's first line "Oh, there's good and bad things about the South, boy Oh, and some leave a bitter taste In my mouth, now." Speaks to those darker issues within the South's psyche. Junior digresses to much more pleasant issues.
Remember how excited you used to be to wear shorts for the first time? The first time of the season you hear the ice man's truck meandering through the blocks of your neighborhood, fireflies, trips to the beach, meeting up with you friends and causing a little trouble by playing manhunt in the neighbors yard? Then as the summer progressed and it got hotter and hotter, Little League would be over and almost daily your parents would drive you down to the beach where you'd exhaust yourself in the sun and sand until the sun set and the fireworks would break open the sky until you'd pass out from exhaustion? Towards the end of summer you'd get this sinking feeling in your stomach because you knew school was right around the corner, you'd dread Labor Day and wonder why everyone would have picnics and party because it was not cause for celebration, rather it was a wake for the summer?
We all remember it, and even a little black boy from the south in the fifties has remarkable memories of the summer. In hearing this song one can help but open up the drawer and look to see if the shorts are there, waiting to be released, and while the times had now as an adult in the summer are slightly different there's still that magic that comes from the smells of fresh cut grass, the burning of your skin in August sun and the dread that develops every Sunday when its time for school again.
