The sounds of summer to me are the memories of summers spent at our cabin. After a day of swimming, berry picking and fishing, we would “take sauna” and crawl into bed, skin pink and scrubbed. My sister slept on the top bunk and I was on the bottom, flashlight and Nancy Drew tucked in with me, as I often read late into the night. I could hear my parents settling into the living room for the evening, my dad turning on the radio to listen to the Minnesota Twins. These were the days of Camilo Pascual, Tony Oliva, and Harmon Killebrew. I would whisper their names aloud, letting the foreign-sounding names roll across my tongue. Our cabin had no electricity and I could hear the hiss of the lantern and the murmur of my parents’ voices, trying not to disturb us. I heard the distinctive sound of my dad opening a can of beer. There were no pop tops yet, and beer was opened with a can opener and gave two fizzy-sounding pops as each side the can was opened. The content you are trying to access is only available to members. Sorry.