Oh, those hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer. Or, another way of putting it, “another hazy, hot, humid day” in the hemisphere.
Don’t walk so fast. You’ll sweat. Don’t think too hard; you’ll also sweat.
Slow down. Sip; don’t drink too fast. You’ll sweat.
Pardon the digression. Those in the deep south are already there, but they don’t know what it’s like to feel Mother Nature waver between hot and cold – until it’s time to turn up the heat and make us northerners suffer until we plead for autumn.
Until then, we have time to adjust our zeal for the season made famous by outdoor barbecues, patriotic holidays, swimming and vacations. I meant to say, “summer vacations.” We all know about “ski vacations.” I just don’t want to convolute things. Life does enough of that.
Be that as it may, seasons – apart from their place in poetry and meteorology – are facts of life. Summer is no different. Though, like its counterpart winter, in varying degrees (let International Falls, Minnesota brag about how cold it is there. We all make choices), summer is a season of attrition. It is not, like fall and spring, a transition season. You know? The ones that argue back and forth like siblings until their distant cousins take control of the thermometer and remind us why people always talk about the weather.
“Another hot, humid day,” mumbles the weatherman. Was that a recording? Maybe he cloned himself, and he is spending the summer at his beach house in Maine.
Cut to the future.
Now you know (at least those closest to me) why I can wait for summer. I know what I say: heat is life, cold is death. That may be true in, eh, hum, poetry; however, ask someone suffering from heat exhaustion or heat stroke if he likes that beautiful summer weather we’re having.
I don’t like it, but I’ll take it. Unfortunately, the only day worthy of a dip in Northside Pool is above 85 degrees. And don’t get me started about that first late morning the pool is open to swimmers. That first swim is a doozy.
Then, dozens of adult swims and hypnotic hours soaking up the proverbial rays later, and the tears stream down my face (I exaggerate for effect) and I acknowledge that I am getting yet closer to another birthday (in November) and it’s time to move on in the calendar.
Those poor southern souls; the only foliage they’ll see is in the arts and crafts section at the local department store. Or in their memories before they moved south and, for whatever reason, are still there. I still can’t get over the sight of Christmas lights draped over palm fronds.
Time is such a pest. You know what they say: “Time has no friends yet knows no enemies.” Time keeps going and going, and the next thing you know, you’re talking about last week’s family reunion 10 years later. And you’re recalling the time your grandchild learned how to swim and took his first slide down the big slide at Northside and – not yet – soon, he (and she) will be wading in splash-free waters during another adult swim.
As for me, on the first cool day of late summer (you know, just after Labor Day), it’s “I’ve been waiting for this.” On the first hot day of late spring (you know, around Memorial Day), it’s “I’ve been dreading this.”
Perhaps it’s a matter of perspective. It’s all in your point of view. One man’s unbearably hot day is another man’s paradise. Either way, I don’t care if it’s 90 degrees, pour me another cup of coffee. Hot outside? That won’s stop me from taking a hot shower.
I suppose there are compensations from the otherwise unpleasant byproducts of summer (or winter). Time, the bandit that steals our youth, tends to slow down during the warmer months. Okay, maybe not. Still, the sight of a hummingbird and the sounds of crickets and birds remind me of the simpler things of life. The pace is far from quickened. Rather, no one is in a hurry to do much of anything on a hot day, or a humid night.
If there is an underlying lesson to be learned, it is that life goes from one thing to another. I’d rather complain about it being too hot out than choking on a fish bone. I’d rather complain about a heat wave that’s in its second week than being cornered by an angry mama bear on a hike in the deep woods.
Without further ado, enjoy the summer.
Lee Goodwin writes about sports for Local.News. His column, “Sports Focus,” appears weekly.
