One Extremely Wet, Incredibly Hot American Summer
I was a 24-year-old theater teacher at a Jewish summer camp. She was a beautiful 17-year-old junior counselor. My only camp friend was losing his mind. Let’s just say it was a summer I’ll never forget.
Illustrations by Devyn Park
On the nights we weren’t on the road we’d retire to my place where, when the mood struck, we’d have sex or compose music, but always quietly, so as to not disturb my mom and dad sleeping in the adjacent room. In the early morning hours, we would eat coffee ice cream and plan our next tour, surfing the web and sending out email solicitations for new venues, new vans, new band mates.
There was always a need for new band mates.
Fresh out of college and with no discernible professional skills, we didn’t have enough money to get our own place, let alone pay the members of our band. As a result, those members would frequently change. She and I — the singer/songwriter/lover duo — were anchored in, but every few months the trombone player would quit or the drummer would get kicked out, and we’d be scrambling again to fill out our lineup.
It was during one of these scrambles that we were introduced, through a mutual friend, to Abe.
Abe (whose name has been changed, along…
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