My favorite memory is going down to the creek in front of our cabin on Mt. Rainier and tossing in my baited hook then talking to the campers in the public campground on the other side of the creek. They would tell me about the fish they were seeing and that they could not catch it. When I saw the trout come out and take my bait I would wait a few seconds before saying, "Well, if I'm not going to catch anything, I may as well go back home." I would turn slowly and reel in the fish. The shouts from the campers that I had gotten the 14" Rainbow were a kick then - I now realize how they probably felt, but I fished that hole 3 times a day.
But The REAL summer memory was one year at Bible Camp, I was flirting with a young lady at the craft class and the teacher's daughter kept getting in the way of my flirting AND even kept getting in the pictures I was trying to take of Sylvia... Made me very upset. Twenty years later, I met a beautiful, wonderful single mom, and 6 months later married her. Last week, I found the pictures from camp - with pictures of my wife of 37 years, as she helped her mother with the ceramics class.
Sure changes the view of the memories. (I did not recognize Gerrie in the pictures at first, but did see her mom. Then the light dawned.)