Nearly every day was an adventure for my parents and me after emigrating from Germany to Wilkinsburg in 1954 -- and summertime presented very special challenges and opportunities.

I didn't speak English at first, so it's a mystery to me how my friend Doreen and I communicated, but somehow we did. She took me to Whitney Field, a wonderful playground that had swings and where we could watch a game called "baseball."

I was most grateful, however, that Doreen introduced me to the crafts lady who came to the playground weekly with a bag full of interesting odds and ends that we somehow turned into works of art. I could participate because I could watch and see what to do; I didn't need to understand the words.

I remember a particular project that I made for my father, a belt out of leather loops and a shiny buckle. Papa was never a particularly stylish dresser and I know the belt didn't do much to improve his image, but I was proud to see that he wore it to work for many, many years!

During that time, our neighbors, the Wassons, invited us for our first, back-yard, Fourth of July picnic. They served hot dogs with mustard or something called "ketchup"! What a culinary delight! And we drank something called "root beer" in very cold, shiny, brightly colored metal cups -- delicious!

But the summer took its toll, as these were the days before air conditioning. Since Germany is farther north and has cooler summers than Pittsburgh, we found the heat and humidity in Pittsburgh unbearable.

As the temperature rose, my parents were desperate but resourceful. We packed up our dinners and went to the depth of Frick Park's valley, where the temperature was at least 10 degrees cooler. We spent many an evening there, next to the stream that provided numerous diversions such as catching crayfish, sailing paper boats, and (my all-time favorite) piling up rocks for a make-shift dam (don't ask why).

As great believers in the rejuvenative power of vacations, my parents scrimped and saved so that in 1956 we were able to go on our first trip. We took the train to Lake Erie.

Upon arrival, we saw we had rented a cabin near the water -- but not on the water. To our great dismay, almost every place along the beach was posted with "Do Not Trespass" signs, and we wondered how individuals could deny other people access to the sea.

Without a car, it wasn't easy walking to the public beach and shops, especially since there were no sidewalks along the highway. But we had a good time anyway. At our cabin, we discovered new games like "featherball" (badminton) and horseshoes.

One day in town, we went to a restaurant and saw that they had "pizza" on the menu. Friends had raved about pizzas, so much to the amusement of the waitress (this was before small, personal-size versions), we ordered three of them! (The good-natured and wise waitress showed us a pizza before submitting the order.) After dinner, we saw our first U.S. movie, "Trapeze," with Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis. We actually understood most of it. What a memorable day!

In subsequent summers, having purchased our first "jalopy," we took advantage of Pennsylvania state parks -- Keystone, Kooser, Black Moshannon, Cook Forest, etc., for Sunday picnics and annual week-long vacations.

The cabins were often rustic, always inexpensive, and involved bringing pots, pans, bedding, etc., as well as doing cooking and cleaning -- but the smell of the pines and the aroma of food cooking on wood-burning fires were amazing! The lakes were usually cold but the neighbors in nearby cabins were always warm and friendly. These were serene, yet joyous, vacations.

Gradually, in tandem with the purchase of newer vehicles, our travels expanded to explore many other parts of our new country, but the stories of those early summers were the ones we retold over and over and are still among my most cherished memories.

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