Scribbler's Rave & Favorite Five: Ninetysomething Days of Summer, #5 Summer of '87

I remember WKYS 93.9 FM's "93 Days of Summer" campaign during my teenage years, which was cool because there were always ticket giveaways for the Budweiser SuperFest and numerous other events as well as a summer's worth of life-changing, season-defining music.  However, those 93 days worth of excitement weren't just limited to good music.  If part of a summer program, there were plenty of field trips to museums, swimming pools and amusement parks.  If it involved just chilling around the way, there was a progression from playgrounds and sandboxes to balling at the court and playing endless games of Uno, I Declare War, Tonk and Spades.  Although I was a bit more of a homebody between the ages of 8 and 14, I could never resist the temptation of the sun.  So as an ode to dope music, warm weather and all of the spoils that accompany my second favorite season, I bring to you the "Ninetysomething Days of Summer" edition of my "Rave & Favorite Five".  Despite going back and forth about which decade is my favorite between the 1980s and 1990s, I kick things off with the only summer from the 80s to make this countdown.  Despite a largely forgettable winter and spring and the second most bittersweet fall of my life, the 94 days of the summer of '87 still added up to the year's best quarter by a landslide.  Although other summers like 1990, 1996 and 2001 could've easily given 1987 a run for its money, this particular summer largely involved free fun and sentimentality.  So without wasting any more precious blog post space, let's rewind the clock 29 years and dig into the five reasons why the summer of '87 made my list...

#5 THE ARRIVAL OF THE SUMMER OF '87 MEANT THE END OF THE SECOND GRADE.  Truth moment: I made a critical error in choosing my second grade teacher.  I don't know what in God's name possessed me to have a fervent desire to be in Ms. Harris' class, but knowing me, it was probably something random or quirky like she had some cool decorations, her classroom sat on the side of the school where you could see the playground or her first name was the same as one of my favorite aunts and that had to mean that she was cool by name association.  I should've been smart like Big Little Brother Scribbler was four years later when he was in Ms. Lewis' class, who was clearly changing the second grade game at Leckie Elementary School.  With a laugh reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West and a disingenuous personality like somebody rocking a Louis Vuitton bag that actually says "Louie" on it, I don't remember much good about Ms. Harris' class except getting a "U" in Citizenship. Now let me be clear: I've been known to be flippant from time to time, but I was never an unruly child; that woman simply didn't have control over the more unsavory students and punished the lot of us by giving all-around poor grades.  Bottom line, she was TF terrible, made me abhor the second grade with a passion and had me feeling like a man accused of a murder he didn't commit getting his conviction overturned when the summer finally came...

#4 IT WAS ONE OF THE FEW SUMMERS THAT I WASN'T IN CAMP...AND I LOVED IT.  For the majority of the time at my first summer camp at Shugart Elementary School in 1986, I hated it because it was the harbinger of a daunting theme throughout my life: as friendly as I was, people don't always reciprocate cordiality.  Catapulted by the most embarrassing CPR faux pas in the history of CPR, it wasn't until my cousin's arrival when people started being nice to me.  The summer of '88 was even worse because I had no relative as a buffer; I don't even remember what caused the shift, but I just recall going from barely being tolerated one minute to being the town pariah the next.  Hence, not having to be bothered with any summer program in 1987 gave me a sense of freedom that I only enjoyed that one time during my childhood and adolescent years between 1986 and 1997.  I didn't have to go through the awkward process of meeting new kids and trying to be kind only to get the Forrest Gump "seat's taken" treatment because I already knew the kids around the way.  I didn't have to go to summer camp to go the swimming pool because Big Dadi Scribbler either took us to North Barnaby Pool or the pool in Oxon Hill Village.  I could wake up and go to sleep at will without having to rise or rest early for a camp that I didn't want to attend anyway.  I didn't need to ride a big yellow school bus to take a field trip because my mom and dad would pack us in that white 1978 Oldsmobile Delta '88 with the blue rag top and take us all around the area.  Considering that my first most pleasant experience at a summer program wouldn't come until two years later, simply being home for those two-and-a-half months made the summer of '87 so great...

#3 OUR ADDRESSES SHOULD'VE BEEN "'LITTLE' AND 'BIG YELLOW' PLAYGROUNDS, ALICE AVENUE, OXON HILL, MARYLAND 20745".  So during our two years at Oxon Hill Village, we had three different playgrounds spread throughout the premises: 1) the "Brown Playground", which had playground equipment made with wood on the other side of the complex; 2) the "Big Playground/Yellow Playground", which we color coded because of the big, yellow spiral sliding board; and 3) the "Little Playground", which was a hop, skip and a jump from our doorstep.  Living at the playground comes with two of the funniest stories that I didn't find so funny at the time.  Funny Story #1: when Big Little Brother Scribbler and I are at the Little Playground, he runs indoors for a second, comes back out and says, "Daddy said that we can go to the Big Playground!"  As a seven-year-old kid only thinking of that big sliding board, I take him at his word.  Not long after, my mom comes across the street and says, "You know you two are in trouble, right?"  Puzzled, we get dragged back in the house and, of course being the big brother, I get scolded the worst.  In my defense, I tell my dad, "Well he said that you said that we could go to the Big Playground!"  The master logician that is our dad retorts, "Why would you listen to him?  He's three!"  My hind parts still haven't forgiven me for that faux pas.  Funny Story #2: when a few of my friends and I were standing on the front of our building, they decided to go to the Little Playground without me.  Instead of going in the house and asking my dad if I could go for fear of being left behind, I went with them.  I'm on the swings and see this cute girl, who has me so mesmerized as we swing back and forth that I totally ignore the big guy sitting on the bench with a belt in his hand.  My hind parts still haven't forgiven me for that one either.  Moral of the story: if you're going to chance a butt whipping, make sure it's worth it...and trust me, they were all worth it.  Speaking of the Scribbler patriarch...

#2 IT WAS THE LAST SUMMER THAT I LIVED WITH MY FATHER.  When you're seven years old and preoccupy yourself with Lego sets, Metrobuses and patiently awaiting Season 4 of The Transformers, the saying "the writing's on the wall" doesn't make sense unless that periwinkle crayon in your 64-crayon Crayola box is part of the scribing.  Big Little Brother Scribbler and I didn't understand the concept of separation or divorce at such a young age, but when Momma Scribbler threatened to go to my uncle's house in Temple Hills after a really volatile argument with Big Dadi Scribbler, we knew that something was awry.  Despite witnessing a lot of painful moments in my last year of living with him, I try to remember the good parts.  The benefit of my father being an outgoing person was that a walk to the playground, a ride Uptown to my grandfather's house or even a trip up the street to the Exxon felt like an all-expense paid vacation to California because my brother and I simply wanted to be around our dad and get out of the apartment every now and then.  The natural extrovert took us to visit family and friends all around the D.C. area, always asking us in the process, "Do you know who this is?"  (Still does that to this day and about 57 percent of the time, I still don't know who such-and-such who lives two doors down from so-and-so on Underwood Street is.)  He knew that I wasn't in summer camp and my brother had yet to enter Pre-K, so in small or large ways, he made sure that we always had something to do and enjoyed our youth to the fullest.  Of the many things that my father did well, the summer of '87 is one of those things for which I probably haven't given him enough credit or thanked him--especially since it was the last one under the same roof as him...

#1 MY EARS WERE GLUED TO THE RADIO ALL SUMMER LONG FOR ONE MAIN REASON.  A summer ain't a summer worth talking about if the music isn't memorable and the summer of '87 definitely had some jams.  I recall pop and "urban" hits like "Wipe Out" by The Fat Boys featuring The Beach Boys, "U Got the Look" by Prince featuring Sheena Easton, "Rhythm Is Gonna Get You" by Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine, "(You're Puttin' A) Rush on Me" by Stephanie Mills, "Casanova" by LeVert, "If You Can Do It: I Can Do It, Too" by Meli'sa Morgan and "I'm In Love" by Lillo Thomas ruling the airwaves and grabbing my attention.  However, the song that kept me holding on to the edge of my seat more than any other song in my entire life actually peaked in the spring, but was still in heavy rotation in the summer: "Don't Disturb This Groove" by The System.  With a fantastic pairing of edgy 80s mechanical drums, gorgeously transcendent synths and melodic progressions and Mic Murphy's unique voice that I always say is the predecessor to Bruno Mars--let me tell it, Mars' look is a bit reminiscent of the Murphy's style in the video--I was eternally captivated by such a magnificent achievement in sound.  Interestingly enough, although I was only seven years old, "Don't Disturb This Groove" may have been the first song to influence my passionate side; I knew that when I got old enough to truly know what it was, I wanted to experience that because it sounded so euphoric.  Besides, any song that inspired me to save every dollar that my mom and dad gave me for allowance in order to buy my first-ever tape instead of wasting it on Reese's cups and Cherry 7Ups is worthy of being the song of the year as well as the undisputed champion of the summer.

If you're as dirt ancient as I am and the summer of '87 was as good to you as it was to me, then please feel free to drop some memories in the comments or share your experiences of another great summer.  Don't forget to come back next week to see what year lands the No. 4 spot on the "Ninetysomething Days of Summer" edition of the "Rave & Favorite Five"!!!