Small Town Summer Night

Milk River, Alberta. My Home Town.

A summer sunset.

For a short time, a hush falls over the town.

Then the Summer Evening starts.

The rumble as the teen-aged drivers in Dad’s car (or one resurrected and maintained by their own hands) start cruising Main from the Catholic church to the hotel. Most of them watching for ‘that’ vehicle. The one containing their person of the moment.

Listening to CJOC or CHEC, or, if you had a good radio, CKXL in Calgary.

Rat races (hide and seek with cars) through the back alleys and sidestreets.

The dust hanging in the still air, most noticeable around the street lights. Giant water bugs, ditto.

Glancing in the lighted windows of Charlie’s to see who is hanging out there, listening to the jukebox.

Checking out the dance in the high school gym and trying to avoid the chaperones, all of whom know one’s parents.

Going to one of a half-dozen parties at someone’s barn/gravel pit/cabin/shack complete with bonfire and/or some form of alcohol.

Stopping for milk shakes, mushroom burgers and/or popcorn twists at the Milky Way and visiting/flirting with whichever of your friends currently works there…

Cruising main again.

And finally, as the cars thinned out and your friends find other places to be . . .

Sitting by the slow-moving ribbon of silver that gives your town its name. Drinking one last milk shake and eating popcorn twists by the bagful with your big sister. The sixteen-year-old who just gave you a glimpse of what you will be doing when you become teenager in a few short years.

And the words over the radio you’ve been waiting all night for: On McKenzie’s Instant Top 12, THIS is Number One!