Memories of Summer (Readers Circle) - Softcover

White, Ruth

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0440229219 ISBN 13: 9780440229216

Publisher: Laurel Leaf, 2002

Synopsis

Newbery Honor Winner Ruth White gives readers an unforgettable story of one girl’s experience growing up with a sister that develops schizophrenia.

It’s 1955 when 13-year-old Lyric moves with her father and older sister, Summer, from a small Virginia town to the big industrial city of Flint, Michigan. Summer has always been a little odd, but shortly after the move, things take a turn for the worse when she starts talking to imaginary people and having frightening episodes of paranoia. When she slips out of reality and into the depths of schizophrenia, the devoted Lyric can no longer reach her.

Lyric loves her sister but is torn between taking constant care of Summer and enjoying her own youth. Soon a decision will have to be made that will affect their lives forever.

About this title

About the Author:

Ruth White is the author of the beloved Newbery Honor Book Belle Prater’s Boy (Dell Yearling).

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Memories of Summer
oneMy parents knew no other place but the southwest Virginia hills where they were raised. I didn't remember Mama, because she died of consumption when I was three and my sister was six. But relatives told us she had been a gentle person who read poetry and the Bible, and sang hymns beautifully.We affectionately called our daddy Poppy, and many times he related to us what Mama had decided long before we were born."Our children will have no common names," she had said to him. "A name should have meaning, and tell other folks something about the person. It should help you find your place in this life, and make you feel like you're worth something."So when my older sister was born, Mama had said, "We'll call this one Summer, and she'll grow up just a'sparklin' with warmth and laughter, and the world will be a brighter place with her in it."And when I was born, Mama had said, "We'll call thisone Lyric, and she'll be a singer of songs so sweet it'll bring tears to your eyes."Poppy spent a year watching Mama waste away to nothing before she finally died, and he always said it was the sorriest year of his life, not just because he lost her, but on top of that, his daddy, our Grandpa Compton, died in a mining accident. Poppy told us he hoped and prayed his girls would never have to suffer through a time like that.Everybody in Glory Bottom knew Grandpa. When the explosion boomed, Grandpa and six other men were trapped in this little bitty space, cut off from the rest of the mine, sealed in tight as a tomb. The foreman, who had been away to the college and knew about such things, calculated how long they could survive in this small area cramped with seven bodies breathing. And what he said was if they were still and didn't exert too much energy, and didn't breathe any more than was necessary, they had maybe an hour to live. So they sat quiet and waited and prayed for deliverance before the hour was up.Grandpa was the only one wearing a watch, and ever so often he would hold it up to the carbide lamp on his miner's helmet and softly call out the time to the trapped men. The others thought it was peculiar for him to do such a thing, but they didn't mention it, maybe 'cause they were curious to know how much time they had left on this earth. But the most peculiar thing of all was when the rescuers finally got there, Grandpa was the only dead man amongst them. Somebody figured out they had been trapped almost two hours instead of one. Grandpa had called out thewrong time, making the men think they had more time than they did, just so they wouldn't give up hope. But he was wearing the watch, so only he knew the truth! 
 
Poppy had always been a good ole boy, just happy to be a coal miner like his daddy and his daddy's daddy. But he changed after Mama and Grandpa died. Where he usta go out gambling and carousing, and spending his money on liquor, now he stayed home, and took up reading the Bible and going to church with us.Poppy also had the reputation of being the best guitar picker this side of Nashville. He could play any tune you could hum, and he was always saying that it was his mission in life to give joy, to make people sing and dance and laugh.So it was just as Mama had predicted--in spite of our loss of her, me and Summer grew up singing and laughing. Poppy was always there like a rock, and we felt safe and loved. Our childhood was happy.But it was Summer I remember bathing me and kissing away the bumps and bruises. Summer patty-caking and rockabye-babying. Reading to me. Summer packing my lunch and taking me to my first day of school. Leading me by the hand to the outhouse in the morning dew. Holding my forehead when I threw up. Plaiting my hair. Hushing me in Sunday School.We roamed the hills and creeks, picking daisies and tiger lilies, black-eyed Susans, Indian paintbrushes, and wild pink roses. We slid downhill on golden leaves. We climbed trees and explored caves, and peeped into abandonedmines. But we didn't go in there. They were scary. We dammed up the creek and made swimmin' holes. But best of all, we told each other our secrets and dreams.Poppy had never owned a car. He didn't even know how to drive, so we walked everywhere we went. If it was too far to walk, there was a bus that went to some places. If we couldn't get there by bus, we had to find somebody with a car to take us. If we couldn't do that, we stayed home. And that's what we did most of the time. Stayed home.We liked each other and we entertained each other. We read books and played games. We listened to the radio. We made fudge and went to quiltings, to school and church and to the picture show at the county seat. We saw relatives at Thanksgiving and Decoration Day.Me and Summer learned to cook pretty good. Poppy helped us raise a garden, and we canned things for cold weather. We bought our clothes cheap at the company store or from a mail-order catalog. So we had everything we needed. Then why did we dream about going somewheres else and making more money and having more stuff? It's a mystery. I don't know why, but it was a continuing thread that pulled the years together. Someday we will leave this place. Someday we will have a white house. Someday we will have more money and buy things. 
 
Poppy taught me and Summer to harmonize, and we got real good at it. Everybody said so. Summer's voice was high and clear like a bell, while mine was low and mellow like a clarinet. And people were always asking us to singfor them. We could be going down the road to the store, or coming home from the show, and somebody was liable to step out on their porch and holler, "Come on in here, girls, and sing us a song!" So we did. And they paid us nickels and dimes, sometimes quarters, depending on who it was.We sang for fun even when we didn't get paid, simply because we loved it. Lots of times we sung places with Poppy--parties and church gatherings mostly. But any place there was an audience, they might ask us to pick and sing. I reckon we were famous in our neck of the woods. 
 
Summer always did have funny ways about her, but I got so used to them, they seemed normal to me. For example, she was scared to death of electricity. Poppy called it a "terror" and he said it started when Summer was a baby and stuck her finger in a live socket. But Summer said she didn't even remember that, and she thought it started when she stepped on an electric cord that was frayed. Both times she was shocked.But whenever it happened, her fear of electricity kept her from doing some ordinary things. Like pulling the cord to turn on the light in a dark room. Me or Poppy had to do that for her. She wouldn't even turn on the radio. We had to do that for her too, and then adjust the static out of it. We also had a fan that she wouldn't touch. In fact, she would pull her dress tail aside to keep from brushing it when she passed by. But the Frigidaire was something else. She wasn't a bit afraid of it. She said it was because it was cold. So it didn't seem to be electric. She thought of electricityas hot. We had nothing else that was electric, except lights on our Christmas tree once a year.Another odd thing was Summer's fear of dogs. She would panic and hide whenever she saw one. She always called them wolves. She'd say she heard a wolf barking, or a wolf wanted to bite her, when it was really just a little doggie trying to play.I liked dogs myself, and one time Poppy got us a puppy, hoping Summer would get over her terror. But she wouldn't have it in the house. She cried and cried until Poppy gave the puppy away to kinfolks. I didn't fault her for that. She couldn't help how she felt.She had some other peculiarities too, like rocking her body when she was upset, just rocking and moaning. Or shaking her leg. That would drive her teachers nuts, and they would always put her in the back row, so they wouldn't see that leg going to town.And Summer talked to herself. People would laugh at her when they caught her doing it, especially the other kids. And she would turn real red in the face. She told me secretly that beings appeared to her that nobody else could see, and that's who she was talking to.I got mad at folks when they laughed at Summer, but as she got older she started whispering to the invisible ones, instead of talking out loud, so others were not as apt to notice. She was always looking up toward the hills, listening and whispering. And I didn't think Summer strange at all, because she was my sister and I had grown up with her whispering to the hills.Copyright © 2000 by Ruth White

About this edition

• Publisher: Laurel Leaf
• Publication date: 2002
• ISBN 10: 0440229219
• ISBN 13: 9780440229216
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 160