When we were young, we used to spend the summers at our family's cabin on Bainbridge Island. We had summer friends on our street, a group of kids who used to hang out and play together. We spent our days and evenings making rafts, building treehouses, playing baseball, pretending we had a restaurant or were dating the Beatles, swinging on the neighbors' swings, picking blackberries, playing dress-up, hide-and-seek or "Old Man Ghost," fishing, digging clams, skim-boarding, beachcombing, finding Indian beads, doing crafts, taking long walks on the beach or the roads around our neighborhood, and buying penny candy.
The neighborhood, as it was then
We were a close-knit group in summer, though we rarely saw one another during the school year. There was only one telephone on the entire street, and it didn't belong to any of us. We were a pack of kids who were together all summer, and then broke apart for the rest of the year. We accepted this.