***
"The Summer of ’79" is a deftly woven slice of memory—one that captures not only a moment in time but the emotional temperature of late-1970s America. With tactile realism and quiet introspection, narrator merges industrial life, pop culture, and human connection into a single, resonant hum.
***
The Summer of ’79
By Harry Arabian
It was August 14, during the oppressively hot and humid summer of 1979. I was testing the last batch of thermal and pressure gauges for an oil client—thirty minutes before the shipping department’s final call. My determination to see Alien with Sigourney Weaver at 6:45 PM kept me focused, pushing through the heat and the hum of machinery, hoping to beat the Friday rush on Route 128.
While I stayed fixed on the gauges, David “The Bum”—my coworker, as I liked to call him—leaned over. “Are you going to the company picnic tomorrow at Cochituate State Park?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he added, “We can hitch a ride with you.”
I nodded.
“Make sure you wear your baseball attire—see you at nine!” he shouted, already halfway to the locker room.
At 3:45, I delivered twelve TP220 gauges to Brian, our shipping supervisor. Sweat dripped down his bald head as he called out, “Last-minute prize!” in a tone that didn’t sound thrilled. He passed the box to Tom for final packaging, then turned to me.
“We’re short a player for tomorrow’s picnic game. Can you join the team?”
“I’ve never played on a baseball team,” I said. “I’ve watched a couple games—got bored, honestly—but I can fill in if you’re okay with a rookie.”
Brian smiled. “Welcome to the team.”
I cleared my bench and shut down the test fixtures. Then I jumped into my Delta 88, ready for my movie date with Sigourney Weaver—and the Friday evening jam on Route 128.
By 5:45 PM, I was in the Woburn Theater parking lot, hungry. Popcorn had never smelled so good. I bought a big bucket and a large Pepsi, then headed to Theater One—ready to face The Alien.
Alien wasn’t just a movie; it pressed its cold hands around your throat and didn’t let go. The story followed the commercial spaceship Nostromo, whose crew responds to a mysterious distress signal from a desolate planet. What began as routine exploration turned into a desperate fight for survival as a deadly extraterrestrial life form began picking off the crew one by one.
The film’s narrow corridors and shadowed interiors amplified the tension, creating a suffocating unease that lingered long after the credits. The alien itself was rarely seen in full until late in the story—its presence felt more than shown, a masterstroke of suspense.
And then there was Sigourney Weaver. Intelligent, brave, unshakably resilient—she became, for me, the defining heroine of science fiction. As I stepped out of the theater into the thick August air, the world felt both larger and smaller. The hum of Route 128 had its own kind of pulse—industrial, human, alive.
The next morning, I arrived at Dave’s apartment at 8:45. He was already on the front porch, sipping an iced drink, and called out as I pulled up in my Delta 88.
“Wait for Sigourney!” he said.
“Sigourney?” I asked, puzzled.
“Yeah—my cousin from New York. She’s visiting with her boyfriend, Bob.”
Moments later, they joined him outside. Dave, Sigourney, and Bob were all dressed in baseball attire; I was the odd one out in my soccer gear. After quick introductions, we took the back road along Route 30 toward Cochituate State Park.
Dave, always the comedian, grinned. “I hope you brought a matching soccer ball for that outfit.”
Before I could respond, Sigourney smiled. “If I were Harold, I’d drop you off at the next stop. What’s your problem with soccer?”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but bright. “Soccer feels like a heartbeat in motion—ninety minutes of continuous rhythm, where the field breathes with passing, movement, and anticipation.”
I nodded, seconding her thought while keeping my eyes on the road.
Bob chimed in from the back seat. “Baseball, by contrast, unfolds like a conversation—measured, deliberate. Each pitch is a question, every swing an answer. Baseball celebrates patience, precision, and the quiet drama of waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
I smiled. “Soccer thrives on flow and collective instinct. It’s all about movement and timing—every player reading the same pulse.”
Dave raised his voice as we approached the park. “I see the field in the distance. How about putting these opinions to the test—out there on the green of Cochituate?”
I laughed, but inside, something stirred. Two Sigourneys in two days—one on the screen, one beside me. Both fearless in their own way.
As we pulled into the lot, the field stretched under the hazy sun, the air thick with grass and the smell of grilled hot dogs. Maybe this game wasn’t about skill or boredom or winning. Maybe it was about showing up—being part of the pulse, however uneven your rhythm.
I slung my glove over my shoulder and followed the others toward the diamond, the echo of that hum still in my chest. The crack of bats, the chatter of teammates, the steady rhythm of summer itself—it all reminded me of Route 128 the night before—industrial, human, alive.
Book Club Summary — The Summer of ’79
ReplyDeleteHarry Arabian’s The Summer of ’79 captures a fleeting yet transformative weekend in the life of a young engineer at the cusp of change—personally, culturally, and technologically. Set against the backdrop of the late 1970s, the story bridges the industrial pulse of Massachusetts’ Route 128 and the imaginative reach of Ridley Scott’s Alien, weaving nostalgia with reflection.
After a long day at the testing lab, the narrator plans a quiet evening escape into the dark theater of science fiction. Yet, the next morning, a company picnic at Cochituate State Park blurs the boundary between the ordinary and the cinematic. The arrival of Dave’s cousin—coincidentally named Sigourney—sparks an exchange about soccer, baseball, and the nature of rhythm and human connection. What begins as a casual outing becomes an allegory about participation, courage, and the heartbeat of community.
Through crisp prose and restrained humor, Arabian explores themes of work, identity, and belonging in a world shifting from the mechanical to the digital. The story’s hum—industrial, human, alive—serves as both soundtrack and symbol for a generation straddling innovation and tradition.
Discussion Questions
Setting and Symbolism
How does the industrial backdrop of the testing lab and Route 128 mirror the narrator’s inner world? What might the hum of machinery represent in the context of human experience?
The Double Sigourney Motif
The narrator encounters two Sigourneys—one fictional, one real. How does this parallel enrich the story’s themes of courage and transformation?
Baseball vs. Soccer
What do the contrasting metaphors of baseball (“a conversation”) and soccer (“a heartbeat in motion”) reveal about the characters’ worldviews and the broader cultural shifts of the era?
Participation and Presence
The narrator concludes that the game isn’t about winning but “showing up.” How does this insight reflect personal growth or broader generational values?
Cinematic Influence
In what ways does Alien shape the narrator’s perception of his surroundings and the people he meets? How does the film’s atmosphere echo in the second half of the story?
Nostalgia and Tone
How does Arabian achieve a nostalgic tone without romanticizing the past? What emotions or memories does the story evoke for you?
The Role of Work
How do the scenes in the shipping department contrast with the freedom and spontaneity of the park? What do these settings say about identity tied to profession?
Title Reflection
Why do you think the author chose to anchor the story so specifically in 1979? Could this story have taken place in another era and still carried the same resonance?