Law Office Of William F. Underwood - June 2018


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JUNE 2018


E very summer, when the temperatures begin to climb above 100 degrees and the entire state of Georgia starts to sweat, I find myself reminiscing about those endless summer days from back when I was a kid. In those days, summer meant summer break: three months spent in utter freedom without a single care in the world. It’s funny, the instant you become a working adult, you realize just how much you took those three months off for granted — it’s definitely something that’ll be hard to pull off ever again for most of us. After the last school bell of the year rang, the first thing my pals and I did was jump on our bikes and ride. Honestly, the way I remember it, we were pretty much constantly on our bikes until September came around and we had to file back into the classroom. From dusk ‘til dawn, we were zooming around town at top speed, searching for a new source of trouble to get into. A lot of times, we’d find a pond or a friend’s pool or a lake to jump in, a thrilling escape from the oppressive heat. It’s weird when you look around these days and rarely see any kids speeding around town on their bikes — I guess they’re inside playing video games for way longer than we ever used to. If my friends and I weren’t swimming or riding, we were duking it out in one sport or another. Looking back, it seems like I was steeped in baseball, basketball, or football nearly every day, quenching my competitive spirit. It’s crazy to think how much energy we kids had in the midst of the brutal humidity, brushing off temperatures that would give any adult heat stroke in pursuit of a home run or touchdown. Then there were the family trips. If we had any place you could call a regular spot, it was the “Redneck Riviera” of the Emerald Coast, up in Northern Florida. We’d spend most of the time just lounging around on the beach or battling the waves, but

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every once in a while, my dad would take us out trolling for Spanish mackerel. I’ll never forget the enormous amberjack my dad reeled in one day. Though it was small for its species, it put up more of a fight than I’ve ever seen a fish muster. As I got older, my golf cart took the place of my trusty bicycle, along with my prized dirt bike. Even as I began to age out of some of the little kid activities that are part and parcel of summer, it was still the best time of the year. Whether I was goofing around on the coast, gunning my bike off a makeshift dirt ramp, or traveling around the country with my folks, I never got tired of that brief break from responsibility. It’s difficult to imagine what I’d do with three straight months of nothing these days. -William F. “Trey” Underwood, III

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