Every summer 
has a story.

Novelist Henry James wrote, “Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” I am fairly certain that most people would agree with him. I, for one, most definitely do.

While I often write about my favorite season of the year being autumn, throughout my life, I have taken great pleasure in enjoying the days of summer. In my childhood, summers meant spending my time at Silver Tree Day Camp in San Francisco, or a week or so with my family at Redwood Rest Resort in Boulder Creek or Pine Grove Resort in Lake County. As I mentioned in a recent post, I spent the summer of 1971 in Jamaica,… and I had the opportunity to spend the summer of 1974 running a summer day camp in The Bahamas. Summers have always been very good to me.

There was one summer, however, when I didn’t have any plans. It was the summer of 1976. I knew that I would be returning to San José to live and teach at Bellarmine College Preparatory in the fall, and continue my education at Santa Clara University, but I had not made any plans for how I would spend the summer of our country’s bicentennial. Somehow, and I don’t recall exactly how it happened, I ended up volunteering at the St. Paul Parish “Summer of Love” recreation program.

My Dad had attended St. Paul School in his childhood. He had lived at 25th & Sanchez Streets, not far from the church and school. In that summer of ’76, the parish offered a recreation program for children ages 7-12. Since I’d had extensive experience working at Silver Tree Day Camp as a junior counselor, I was confident in my ability to be a contributing member of the volunteer staff at the Summer of Love. 

Each day, the kids who attended the program had a variety of activities from which to choose — arts and crafts, table games, kickball, relay races, basketball, soccer, bingo, talent shows, and more. The staff, which included two sisters from the convent along with about a dozen high school and college students, was outstanding. I recall there being a good vibe among those who worked each day with the kids. 

On my walk through Noe Valley last Friday, I passed the St. Paul schoolyard on 29th Street. I paused to look through the fence into the empty yard. Sadly, it appears that the summer recreation program is a thing of the past. This disappoints me, especially knowing that in recent years, the school building has been rebuilt and now includes a state of the art gymnasium. What a perfect venue for a thriving summer program for kids. 

It’s been fifty years since I participated in the Summer of Love program, yet I still have fond memories of my experiences there, and of some of the people with whom I worked.

Yes, every summer has a story. The summer of 1976 is yet another gift for which to be grateful in my life.