Summer beckons the writer with memories of long, hot days and short, sultry nights, of youthful romance, travel, and adventure. Over the generations, a lot of great literature resulted from young men and women being released from their daily routines of work or school and left to their own devices, devices usually centered around coming of age by engaging in forbidden sex, alcohol, and short, hot relationships. A lot of lousy literature too. Bookshelves in second-hand book stores are groaning with the weight of romance novels read as the surf pounded in the readers ears, sand crept up into their bathing suits, and the tide filled with beer cans with saltwater.
For me, perhaps my most memorable summer was the year my son and I ran the bulls in Pamplona. We didn’t get much sleep, but we didn’t get gored, either. Just crazy days and nights on the streets of the ancient town. Here a link to my blog where you can read my account of our running the bulls.http://douglasarvidson.blogspot.com