and Words
Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
The summer’s out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets
The sun goes down alone
I’m driving by your house
Though I know you’re not home
Lyric excerpts from AZ Lyrics.
I attended the University of Miami as an engineer. Though, it is a private school, we were not wealthy, far from it. Upon paying for my first semester’s tuition, we did not know how we would fund my college education. I worked nearly every day when I didn’t attend classes. I even worked through Spring Break, often filling my weekdays by picking up shifts waiting on tables.
On my sophomore year in college, I took an atypical day off during the week of Spring Break. My friends and I took the hours long drive from Miami to Key West. We baked in the sun in the drive down the long bridges that connected they Florida Keys to the very last one. As we skimmed the surface of the water, it shimmered simultaneously impossibly blue and clear.
Though I had lived in Florida for many years, I rarely took the time to stop and appreciate its beauty. Today would be an exception.
On that day, we lunched at a restaurant that cost a little more money than we should have spent. Seated on the patio in the shade, we all shared an alligator appetizer that tasted too much like chicken. I don’t remember what else we had for lunch, so in an ironic way the alligator was memorable by sheer virtue of not being memorable.
Meanwhile, as we walked over the streets of Key West, we encountered the house of Ernest Hemmingway. We learned that he had a fascination with cats. I quietly pondered how that unassuming structured inspired him as he wrote the words to his novels. I still wonder that today, as I aspire to write in a meaningful way. Hopes of becoming a novelist dashed years before by a bluntly practical high school guidance counselor and a natural aptitude for mathematics and computer programming.
While this was my first time in Key West, the brick streets made me unexpectedly homesick from the memories of Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. The buildings didn’t merely contain homes and businesses; they pulled you around campfire and told wondrous tales of their history. They spoke in hushed tones, scarcely over a whisper. You’d miss if you didn’t pay attention.
Having lived on the east coast of Florida, I had not seen the sun over the water on the horizon. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Being a nocturnal animal, I never had the inclination or motivation to wake up at dawn to see the sun rise over the water. Naturally, watching it set over the sea was poetically appealing, but still elusive.
As the day wore in Key West, we shuffled to the west side of the island. We gathered around the west coast, along with the collection of other tourists, that crowd perhaps marginally smaller since we picked a weekday. As we waited near the water, we made the plans for our return drive. The yellow sun turned orange as it shimmered over the water, until it finally extinguished over the horizon.
I crash on the drive home and indulge in slumber on the hours long drive back to our apartment in Miami. Upon arriving, I had another drive to my home in Fort Lauderdale, where I would continue the grind on another shift waiting on tables. This day with my friends persists in my mind, filled with fond memories.
I don’t regret taking my one-day spring break that year, not for a moment.
Years later, I climb into my tiny sports car on an autumn afternoon. I roll the top off the convertible and hit the road for a joy ride. The seat warmers offset the slight chill carried by the wind. I wrap my long hair around a bandana and roll up the windows to minimize the effects of the wind at freeway speeds. A collection of songs plays off a burned disc packed with MP3’s of favorite tunes, sorted by folders that function like playlists. The music is loud but barely audible over the wind and engine merely inches behind my seat.
Eventually, this song ‘The Boys of Summer’ plays over the speakers. As I hear Don Henley’s voice, I can feel his regret over his distant broken love. The words and music are filled with a mystical nostalgia and sadness. My life in the Sunshine State didn’t mirror his. No distant memories of loves with brown skin shining in the sun, wearing sunglasses. However, I imagine that would’ve had very similar experiences. Though by the time I left Florida, I had done little real living.
In college, my last few years in Florida, I spent most of my clumsy romantic life at night under dim lighting of disco lights. Dirty dance floors dominated instead of powder sandy beaches. Those moments were not baked by the warmth of the sun, but instead glowed dimly by the light of the moon. In retrospect, I might’ve on occasion been able to see the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean, though as the end of my day, not the start. There were occasions where I arrived home as the sun rose in the distance.
Still the song beckons memories of those distant Florida days. It fills me with nostalgia and scattered moments with family and friends, all baked under sun… Much like that single spring break day.
As for the expression ‘The Boys of Summer’? That’s just a reference to baseball players. The baseball season is a marathon of 162 games, and the official season normally starts right around April Fool’s Day and carries through October.
For me, summers have always been colored with lush outfields and brightly-colored jerseys. The sun beams on Sunday afternoon games. I’ll tune in to the occasional Atlanta Braves game when my schedule permits. I see the newer players as they play this boy’s game though can’t help but to remember the names that played those positions in years past.
This song similarly brings back the voices of those broadcasters, now gone, that so patiently taught me this game. It brings me both joy and sadness.