These are songs that I have always enjoyed this time of year – and still do, many of them going back to my childhood.

The ones from the 1970s in particular continue to bring a smile to my face and likely always will, being that they were the summer hits when I was single digit age, hence providing some very good memories of that time.

Speaking of time, I won’t waste anymore of it;

Here they are in chronological order, courtesy of YouTube – just click on the link…



1. SUMMERTIME BLUES, Eddie Cochran (1958)





2. HOT FUN IN THE SUMMERTIME, Sly and the Family Stone (1969)





3. SATURDAY IN THE PARK, Chicago (1972)




4. SUMMER BREEZE, Seals & Crofts (1972)





5. SUMMER, War (1976)





6. CRUEL SUMMER, Bananarama (1983)





7. SUMMERTIME, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince – who we all know today as Will Smith (1991)





8. SMOOTH, Santana featuring Rob Thomas (1999)













Being that I grew up in Santa Monica, I thought it only appropriate that I posted a picture of its beach. Photo courtesy of shutterstock.com.


I think it just comes with the progression of life in general;

The notion of summer being one long holiday when you’re a kid, ala the end of school and that “No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers…” thing.

Think about it…

Unless you screwed up in class and got bad grades during the regular school year, thus sentencing you to hard time in summer school,

Or if you’re of high school age and working at some crappy minimum wage, no benefits or basic rights, one step up from slavery type of job – or trying to get such,

Summer is three months (or two and a half today) of fun as in going to camps specializing in things you love to do, taking vacations to far off exotic places, visiting paradises like Zuma Beach in Malibu or Disneyland or whatever theme parks you may fancy, and watching spectacular fireworks displays on the evening of July 4th – and buying firecrackers and setting them off yourself.

Which you can’t do anymore in all but perhaps one or two communities in the Los Angeles area.

Not to mention hanging out at the local swimming pool and eating delicious barbecue at parties.

Or doing nothing at all, like many of us did back in the day – or at least I did as the majority of my summers were spent lazing around at my grandparents’ in Riverside, CA, not venturing outside until dusk due to the 90 + degree weather, watching TV, getting to play outside until 8:00 p.m., and essentially just vegging.




I forgot how good this song was; an essential tune of summer by Will Smith, or the Fresh Prince (& Jazzy Jeff) as he was known then when this dropped in 1991. Courtesy of YouTube – just click on the link.


Unfortunately, all that ends when you become an adult in society’s eyes.

Contrary to when you’re a kid, life doesn’t stop when June 21st comes around;

Rent and bills still have to be paid,

Your place of work doesn’t go on a two-or-three month hiatus as the best you can expect is two-week vacation – and that’s if you’re extremely lucky as you can’t put it past your overseers – I mean supervisors – to come up to you at the very last minute and inform you about some big project that you need to do, thus nuking your long-awaited freedom.

Personally, like more or less every other youngster I used to think that summer was the best time of year, for obvious reasons.

Now, and for pretty much my entire adulthood – I would say since my early 20s – that is not the case as I prefer Spring and Winter.

Spring? the leaves are just budding and it’s not so hot.

Winter? I like the chilliness and bundling up.

Not to mention the major holiday commemorating the birth of our Lord and Savior that anchors that season.


Another essential thing about summer; fireworks displays like these in Long Beach, CA every 4th day of July. Photo courtesy of timeout.com


Speaking of chilliness, there’s one big reason why summer doesn’t particularly hold my fancy anymore…


My body has gotten less tolerant to it as I’ve gotten older.

And the fact that it’s gotten hotter the past decade or so – we all know how temperatures have reached 120 degrees in places like Phoenix, AZ the past few days (my condolences to those folks) – hasn’t helped.

To sum it up in three words…


And to sum up my feelings about this just-begun season…

I miss the way summer was as a kid, the way it was something to look forward to with all the fun and relaxing that often went along with it.

Now, that’s not really the case.

It’s a bit of a pity, but also inevitable as that’s part of one’s evolving as an adult, the responsibilities that don’t stop just because it’s June, July and August.

As such, for those who can afford it,

I hope your summer’s a good one.


I like the rainbow-like colors of these lounge chairs at this beach. Photo courtesy of the odysseyonline.com




TURNING FIFTY: Personal Musings About A Milestone Birthday




18, 263 days old – at least as of this coming Sunday.

I’ll be honest, as I usually am…

Anytime anyone reaches fifty years of life, it needs to be celebrated.

Particularly – considering the sometimes extreme tension and polarization that we are currently in – those who are Black males in America.

And on the Autism Spectrum to boot.

Which is why I’m celebrating my 50th birthday this weekend with something that I haven’t done in decades and won’t do again…

Throw a big party.

I can’t imagine being fifty years old, and I probably won’t be able to imagine it even after the fact as when I was a kid – and throughout my life, really – I saw fifty as being, for lack of a better way to describe it, on the border between regular adulthood and senior citizen status.

What’s more, it’s hard to imagine the people I knew as kids, who I went to school and grew up with, turning fifty.

Yes, I know what people say:

“50 is the new 40 (or 30 or whatever)”,

“Age ain’t nothing but a number”,

And I don’t disagree with those sentiments as save for a gout condition and the hypertension that I’m controlling quite nicely with medication, changing my diet and exercise as well as playing pick-up softball on a regular basis for over twenty years, I think I’m in pretty good shape.



I like this mug – shows the year I was born and the fact that yes, my parts are original! Photo courtesy of amazon.com




It’s still weird to think of myself as a fifty-something.

Especially when I look back on my life, as I reckon folks commonly do when they reach a milestone birthday.

When I think about it, although there have been some struggles in my social and emotional development due to having Asperger’s as I was bullied and shunned as a young guy in school and have had troubles working for someone else in subsequent years, not being able to hold a job for longer for three years,

Which is the reason why I became a writer and online blogger with a book describing my experiences as an Aspie, “WALKING ON EGGSHELLS”, nearly done with a target date for (self) publication at the end of the summer,

And although I have missed out on some of the stages of life considered normal in American society such as marriage and opposite sex relationships as my behavior has for the most part rendered me as “not boyfriend/husband material” – which I have accepted as marriage is not for everyone,

I can honestly say that I have had a blessed life to this point, a life for which I am grateful.

I have a family, friends, and particularly a mother that has loved, understood and supported me, which considering my place on the Autism Spectrum hasn’t always been the easiest thing to do,

Grandparents who gave me an idyllic childhood, who I’ll always love and, as they are no longer with us, dearly miss,

And have enjoyed a relatively middle class life.

In other words, I have been quite lucky and fortunate that God has blessed me this way.

Especially since there are SO many people whose lot in life hasn’t been close to being how they would like as living in the Los Angeles area, the nation’s homeless capital, I see plenty of the less fortunate.



This is really cool; a list of things that happened the year I was born, including celebrities who will like wise be celebrating their 50th birthdays – though they spelled Kurt Cobain’s (RIP) name wrong. Image courtesy of Pinterest.com



My Biggest Birthday Wish (Besides the usual good time at my big shindig):

I want to spend Sunday – my actual birthday – in the place where I was born and spent my early childhood…

Riverside, CA, as that was where my grandparents gave me my idyllic childhood, living in a rural area (more suburban today) outside of town where my neighbors had horses and I had cows for a time; there’s even a picture of me at eight years old feeding one.

As there’s a heat wave approaching the area this weekend and my tolerance for 90 to 100 degree-plus weather has waned in recent years, I won’t be devastated if I don’t get to be there as I’ll do something else special.

But it would be fitting if I was in the town where I spent my early formative years fifty years to the day that I was born.

Outside of that, I just want to have an enjoyable weekend.

And if someone came up to me and said that I could have one wish, I would say to be in good health as a friend of mine puts it quite well,

“The best wealth is health.”


Summing Things Up As My Big Day Approaches:

The first thing I’m going to do when I wake up the morning of June 18th is say a big prayer of thanks to God for letting me see my 50th birthday.

I see it as a gift a there’s quite a few people I knew and grew up with who are tragically unable to have a 50th birthday as they are no longer here.

That’s why my overall feelings are those of appreciation and gratitude.

I won’t take this birthday, or any subsequent birthdays, for granted as being an African-American with Asperger’s, I am very thankful that my life has gone the way it has.

I hope that I feel the same way, and be able to say the same things I’m saying now, in the next three decades.



I certainly hope this birthday is a happy one for me. Photo courtesy of monicahswe.wordpress.com





An illustration of what I’ve been doing for work in general for the past nine years…




A while ago I stated that I would be posting excerpts from the book I’ve been working on for the past few years, “WALKING ON EGGSHELLS”, in advance of its self publication.

The process of publishing this book, in which I will be using the site Lulu.com, will be my upcoming summer project; it’s my plan to have it ready for reading by September.

In the meantime, here’s the first excerpt, taken from chapter one.

I certainly hope it’s enjoyed…


Being that I was about a year or so out of diapers and had joined the masses of the newly potty-trained, I obviously don’t remember the exact details as my mom told me the story of how I essentially taught myself how to read:

Walking up to my grandfather’s large tan suede Laz-I-Boy recliner chair one morning sometime during March of 1970 (according to my calculations) while he was reading the Riverside (CA) Press-Enterprise, our town’s local paper, I peeked over Grandpa’s shoulder at what he was looking at, which was apparently the supermarket ads – probably Stater Brothers as that was a prominent place to get groceries in that area at that time – because according to Mom, I proceeded to read the various names of various items like steak, milk and hamburgers, reading off that newspaper page like I would read Judy Blume’s books a few years later, or The Hunger Games series, Sports Illustrated, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, and the Los Angeles Times now.

Everyone was stunned and flabbergasted, of course, especially since I had just been exposed to the alphabet a few months earlier as I remember Mom buying me one of those magnetic black boards with the brightly colored letters and numbers that previous Christmas and teaching me the A-B-Cs and 1-2-3s off of that. According to her, I was not only able to recite the twenty-six letters fairly quickly, I was also doing things like saying them backwards, dividing them in half and reciting them from A to M and from N to Z, both forwards and backwards, and other peculiar things like that.

I’m sure that my family first thought then that there was something interesting about me as far as my intelligence was concerned; here I was, reading at two and a half years old when other toddlers my age were probably just barely learning how to use the toilet and watching Big Bird, Ernie and Bert and Oscar the Grouch and the then-brand new Sesame Street show…to be able to read so quickly was (in my family’s eyes), to coin the most overused phrase in the English language which I am frankly sick of, amazing.

Like lots of other little “aspies”, however, there were plenty of things that I did and said and behaviors that I displayed that were not so amazing, which ranged from antisocial to bizarre to obsessive to just plain bad, things that I’m most ashamed and embarrassed to think of today…

It was a perfectly pleasant morning at my grandparents’ house in Woodcrest…I think it was the summer, since I remember it being so warm.

There we were, my two cousins and I, three little kids sitting on two bicycles and a Big Wheel, a plastic low rider contraption that was all the rage in the 1970s. Grandpa was putting us in various poses, taking shots and having a pretty good time, when my ASD impulses reared their ugly head.

I was wearing a farmer’s straw hat that I absolutely loved and was most attached to; that head covering was my obsession of the moment, much like Linus and that security blanket of his. As the picture-taking continued…all of a sudden Grandpa stopped shooting, walked over to me, took this beloved hat off of my head and put it on the head of one of my cousins, without any warning or letting me know in advance that he was going to do that.

Now to a normal, neurotypical eight-year old, that would have not been a big deal in the slightest…

Unfortunately for my beloved grandfather and young cousins that day, I was not a normal, neurological eight-year old.

“That’s my hat!” I cried several times, as I commenced with throwing an intercontinental ballistic missile-level tantrum; yelling, screaming, sobbing, throwing lawn chairs around like I was the Incredible Hulk’s son, it’s extremely mortifying to think about, and it’s been over forty years since those hysterics. There’s a snapshot of me sitting down on the patio in the sun, after getting spanked no doubt, me looking royally passed off as I had ruined a perfectly good day because my aspieness prevented me from reacting appropriately to a sudden, unexpected change, which my extreme outburst stemmed from.

All because of a hat that was a pathetically tattered and torn up thing with holes in it, which belonged in the trash!

Looking back, I realized much later that Grandpa…only wanted to try something a little different in our photo shoot, which is a reasonable thing to accept if you’re a neurotypical, but not if you’re an eight-year old on the Autism Spectrum as my aspie brain was telling me that I was being attacked and treated unfairly, with something that I really was attached to being taken away for no reason.

An outsider with no knowledge or understanding of ASD would read this and think, “That was the nastiest brat I’ve ever read about! God, what an obnoxious little shit he was!”

And I honestly can’t say that I blame them for thinking that…


This was a part of chapter one, which describes my Asperger’s struggles as a little kid.

Another excerpt from another chapter will be posted on this blog real soon.


I remember feeling like and being treated similar to the girl on the right seemingly a lot as a young kid…

WONDER WOMAN & ME: A Personal History and a Few Thoughts

My all-time favorite superhero, going back over forty years…



Like every other young boy, I had quite a few crushes growing up, ranging from that girl who wore that extremely tiny pink dress on the children’s TV show The Bugaloos to Kim Richards, now known as a Real Housewife from Beverly Hills but back in the day was Disney’s top girl ingenue,

To Phoebe Cates from the iconic 1980s teen movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High,

To Nia Peeples, who was the perfect goddess in the TV version of Fame,

To Kim Fields, AKA Tootie on The Facts of Life, who I wanted to take to my high school prom.

One female form, however, eclipsed them all by a long way…


Some scenes from the TV show featuring my all-time favorite crush, courtesy of YouTube


To say that I had a crush on Lynda Carter due to her portrayal of the ultimate super heroine Wonder Woman during my pubescent years in the mid to late 1970s would be arguably the biggest understatement ever.

I particularly liked how Lynda, as alter ego Diana Prince, would do her spinning transformation into the Amazon princess before going to fight the bad guys.

For a young adolescent boy, Lynda – and the character of Wonder Woman in general – was perfect.

So much so that I still watch reruns of the show on the Me-TV Network every Saturday night, and I’m well into middle age.

Of course the fact that Lynda has aged very well hasn’t hurt my current sentiments.

So when it was announced a couple of years ago that something that I had been waiting for roughly two decades to happen – a big screen version of Wonder Woman – was at long last going to happen, I was glad but at the same time was weary that because of Lynda Carter being the ultimate image of the super hero, whoever would inherit the bullet-stopping bracelets and truth-inducing golden lasso would not measure up.



A fight scene from the already box office record-breaking Wonder Woman movie, courtesy of YouTube



I remember when a film version was considered in the 1990s thinking that Charisma Carpenter, a tall brunette best known for her portrayal of mean girl Cordelia on TV’s Buffy The Vampire Slayer, would make an excellent Wonder Woman because she had a resemblance to Lynda, but that version never got off the ground.

Nor did an attempt at a new TV series in 2011 featuring Adrianne Palicki from Friday Night Lights in a black wig, wearing pants rather than the famous sleeveless leotard, which failed miserably.

When Gal Gadot was introduced as the one taking over for Lynda in the just released movie, my attitude consisted of three words:

“Wait and See”.

It was no secret that I would be watching this new film version of Wonder Woman with an extremely critical eye, to see if the former Miss Israel would do the character justice.

After checking Gal’s portrayal out the other day, my verdict came in…

Gal was an EXCELLENT choice, along with being the right choice, to portray Wonder Woman as she did an absolutely wonderful job.




One of the trailers for the just-released feature film version of Wonder Woman, courtesy of YouTube (just click on the link).




Besides being the appropriate height as she stands at 5′ 10″, Gal’s version of the heir to the throne of¬† Themyscira was also different from Lynda’s in one significant sense…

Her fighting skills were reminiscent of Xena, the Warrior princess from that 90s TV series, which was extremely cool; Gal’s Wonder Woman could certainly kick Lynda’s Wonder Woman’s – who didn’t do much more than push the Nazis and other bad guys around – butt in a fight.

And much like Jennifer Lawrence’s Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, Wonder Woman – both Lynda’s and Gal’s versions – provides young girls something that is SO needed these days;

A strong female role model: Someone who is smart, can kick butt, and can more than take care of herself but who also has the ability to nurture and care for those who need caring.

In short, I was concerned that Gal wouldn’t measure up to Lynda, but those concerns were alleviated as the producers made the right choice.

In fact, as I was unable to finish¬†Wonder Woman due to circumstances beyond my control, I plan to go see the movie again, contributing to a film that I’m sure will end up being the top grossing movie of 2017.

I certainly hope the producers have told Patty Jenkins, who directed this blockbuster, these six words…

“Get ready to direct the sequel.”

Because a sure as I’m writing this, one will be coming within the next three years.



My number one celebrity crush as a young pubescent and adolescent in the 1970s…