More Sunday night brain droppings. Summer, 1952 - 10 years old. Days were spent at the swimming hole.

The swimming hole was a section of the Rahway River where the water had carved out a hollow that washed out 6 feet deep. Our N.j. town at that time, had a population of 4,000. The hole, or pond served as the town's swimming site from the '20's until 1970's when municipal pool was build. In winter, the swimming hole served as an ice skating rink.

Summer evenings, after supper, softball, until it was so dark, you couldn't see the ball anymore. Then, maybe time to sit on someone's porch. Maybe mine. Maybe Bobby's or Paulie's. Roller skating was also a possibility. Roller skating until 10 or 11:00 p.m., under the two street lights. And the street itself - the road was ssmmmooooth. Just tar. No pebbles in tar. You could skate up and down the street without hitting a bump. NOT ONE BUMP. By 11:00 or so, we were out of gas. So back home to rest up for another day at the swimming hole.

August. A couple of times we were out until 4 a.m., watching a meteor shower. Was I, 11, 12 or 13 years old? I don't remember. I do remember talking about which girl in the 6th grade was prettiest. Or if anyone was going to make the little league all-star game next year.....The important things in life as they pertained to pre-teen boys.

Neighborhood girls took part in our daytime activities but usually disappeared into their houses after supper. Whether it was roller skating, board games or bike riding, the girls were with us.

We were feral. We were watched out for but our parents were sly about it. We didn't notice that they took a few minutes to take out the garbage, unlike in the cold of winter when dad was in and back in 30 seconds. Or the extra time it took for our moms or dads to walk the dogs.

August. There is a feeling of change that comes to me in about the middle of August. It is a feeling that the impending end of summer means the end of the search for fun. The realization that what is "now," will soon end and with it comes a return to structure: Less fun. This, whether the structure was of school or the structure of work. A kind of feeling that I missed out on things and I won't get another chance at it. I want to cram as much into the last few weeks as I can but I don't have a road map to do this. I get this feeling, even now. even though I am retired and have an endless summer.

Do any of you have such a feeling of being unfulfilled, things not being accomplished, at the end of summer? If so, can you put better words to it than I can?

But this year, this summer is also different and this passage from now to May will be different. I have friends of over 50 years that will probably not survive until next year. And I am watching other friends at the beginning stages of serious ailments. I want to "soak up" as much of them as I can but I know that never works out.

This August is different.