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Summers used to be different. Here in Phoenix summer is a hot, tedious time, something to be endured while you wish it would end. When I was growing up, summer was a different cup of tea. Summertime in the Midwest had thunderstorms and public pools. There were trips to Lake Michigan and Mackinac Island. What you ate in summer could not be consumed at the other times of the year. Strawberries were a June treat while blueberries (you pick them yourself) were in August. There was also corn on the cob, homegrown tomatoes, and Sun Tea for days. Afterwards, Father drove us down to DQ for small chocolate cones.

None of these summer matters happen anymore. These foodstuffs are found at any time of the year now and without the proper context they seem out of place. Could it be they also tasted better back then? I wonder.

What do I miss most? Deviled eggs. These summer lovelies were ubiquitous at family reunions and church picnics. The Midwest matrons brought theirs in plastic deviled egg trays; the more stylish ones used glass or crystal. Nowadays there are endless varieties of deviled eggs recipes, but the ones  from my youth tasted the same: egg yolk and mayonnaise sprinkled all over with paprika. Deviled eggs were what summer tasted like. No one worried about cholesterol but ate three or four and perhaps a fifth when you thought no one was looking.

Once in a while I fancy making some but it would be a lonely endeavor. Someone doesn’t like eggs and deviled eggs are his “Rats in Tewkesbury”. I suspect deviled eggs in September is like wearing white – none after Labor Day. I will pass. Perhaps Santa Clause can locate a deviled egg tray in a garage sale in Minnesota and give it to me at Christmas. Next July for a birthday treat I will make me a tray and eat them with relish and remember the summers of yore.

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