You’ve heard the phrase “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.” Perhaps it conjures memories for you of sitting dreamily under a shade tree fishing, relaxing in the ol’ swimmin’ hole, or rushing to get some loose change when you heard the ice cream man coming down the street.
But my summers were anything but lazy. From the time my brother and I were old enough to get into trouble at home, my father made us go to work with him during the summer.
You can read about it in an article published in the July/August 2016 issue of Good Old Days. Check it out!