Today is sunny. The temperature is only 75° but feels much hotter. It is Sunday quiet. I can hear only a single bird. Even the hums of insects sound quiet and uninspired. I’m sitting in my dark den. It is always the coolest room in the house as the windows face west and north. I have a dump run planned for today but nothing else. I am embracing the feel of Sundays of my childhood.

When I was a kid, I was never squeamish. I caught grasshoppers. I picked up garter snakes. A praying mantis could hold my attention for what seemed hours. They looked prehistoric to me. I think a giant version starred in a black and white science fiction movie and ate people and destroyed towns. If you were afraid of bugs or snakes in Ghana, you were doomed. My childhood had prepared me though a centipede did take me back a bit.

On Sunday mornings, we got to have donuts. My father usually brought a dozen home after his ushering duties at the early mass. I remember his favorite was a plain donut slathered with butter. Back then I ate jelly donuts and had perfected eating one without the jelly oozing through the hole. It was when I was much older that my father made bacon and eggs for me for breakfast. His sunny side up eggs always had unbroken yokes.

I stayed close to home on summer Sundays. My bike stood outside in the back yard waiting for Monday and new adventures. I’d read the comics in the paper. Sometimes I’d watch the afternoon movie matinees. They were movies kids could could watch. My favorite was Treasure Island. I was pulled in by the arrival of Billy Bones and his black spots. I still remember how horrified I was to find out that Long John Silver was a treacherous pirate.

My mother seldom used the oven to cook Sunday dinner. The kitchen was small and held the heat. We often had corn on the cob and, if we begged enough, my mother made peppers and eggs as the main course. From the grill, cheeseburgers were my favorites. They were topped with yellow American cheese. I used ketchup on them back then. I never turned down a hot dog in a toasted bun.

My dance card is pretty empty this week. I don’t even have my uke practice or lesson. Our first concert on the green in Hyannis is tomorrow at 5:30. On Saturday we are playing from 7 to 9 in front of the Kennedy Museum in Hyannis. For the rest of the week, my sloth will reign supreme.

Today is Mother Nature’s thanks for abiding yesterday’s ugly day. It is sunny and warm, 74°. The humidity is just about gone. A light breeze is coming in through the window behind me, a north window. The day is wonderfully lovely.

I was lying in bed this morning trying to decide whether I would go back to sleep or get up when memories of my senior prom popped into my head. I thought it a strange memory to surface as it has been sitting way back in my memory drawers gathering dust, sixty-one years of dust. I have no idea what prompted it.

My mother and I shopped for my dress but didn’t find one I liked so she offered to make one for me. Though my mother had never sewn anything like a prom dress, I trusted her.

We went to Hyannis, to Buttrick’s, to find a pattern. I always thought of Buttriick’s as an old lady’s store. The window had mannequins wearing aprons and house dresses. I remember one section of the store had full and half slips and support hose. Anyway, we found the perfect dress pattern, a two piece dress with a straight bottom half. Next was the fabric store in South Yarmouth. The material I chose was lilac colored with brocade for the top and plain lilac for the bottom.

My mother sat on the living room floor to cut out the paper pattern pieces then she pinned the pieces to the dress material and cut around the pattern. The living room rug was covered in the pinned pieces. She sewed for days. The finished dress was gorgeous.

I invited a friend to be my prom date. We had been friends and co-conspirators since the eighth grade. He sent measurements, and my father reserved a tux locally for him, a white tux. My mother ordered the flowers. The day of the event I went to the beauty shop to have my hair done. Every chair in the shop was taken by one of my classmates. My hair was the style of the day. It was puffy on top with the little flip-ups on the bottom.

Getting dressed was almost a solemn occasion. I got into my dress then put on my tiara, my elbow length white gloves and my rabbit fur stole, also white. My mother took pictures. I have one of us standing in front of the fireplace. I remember the rain. My mother and father held a sheet over the two of us as we ran to the car, no limos in those days. We doubled with friends of mine. Our prom was at the Chatham Bars Inn, ritzy even back then but now a 5 star resort. The closest door was through the kitchen. The kitchen staff stopped to watch us as we walked through. The prom was perfect.

After the prom, we changed then went to a house party. The highlight of the party was a scavenger hunt. I remember two of the stops, one was at a cemetery where there was a clue at a certain gravestone. The other was at the principal’s house where we had to find out his middle name. It was Adolph.

It was so exciting being out late. Cars on the road were sparse. Houses were dark. I got home in the wee hours.