Because I'm writing and illustrating a children's book, I'm deep into my own childhood memories. They're often really fun. Here's one called "A Little Night Music".
I grew up in an attached house in Flushing, Queens. There was one air conditioner in my parent's room, but the rest of the house was HOT in the summer. That meant evenings outside on the stoop. My mom and dad sat on ours while mom drank her cup of tea, Pauline and Phil next door sat on their half while Phil watered his little patch of front yard grass, and people from other houses stopped by and socialized on the sidewalk.
Sometimes, it was just kids on the stoop. We watched the real life soap opera unfold in the garden apartments across the street. Each window had its own story. The guy on the first floor had an affair with the woman on the second floor two apartments down. Motorcycle guy would come visit his kids but also had an affair with the woman who lived on our side six houses down. There was the time the whole bunch of crazy people on the second floor dropped an air conditioner out the window. It smashed. Stuff like that.
And then there was the summer of the opera singer. He had a piano right up against the window, and we sat and listened to him rehearse. We applauded in between songs. He stood up and bowed for us. Here we are enjoying a little night music:
(There are others in this little series. I'm working out the story.)
What's your summer night memory? We all have tons of them, and I'd love to hear yours.