Saturday, July 31, 2010
The beginning of August. This was always a sad time for me as a child, most summers anyway. It signaled the beginning of the end of the summer, and then it was back to school. I was defninitely a summertime kid, although I think I felt more alone in the summers, especially as I got older. In the south/midwest where I grew up the days weere usually a scorching and humid affair, and as you got older and it was no longer as socially acceptable to hang out at the pool all day, and summer jobs were an imperative, life quickly went from a very glad and happy time to a very sad and oppressive time at the beginning of August. Pushing around hot lawnmower engines all day in the blazing sun, burning your legs on the pleather carseats of cars. It's no wonder the South took most adamantly to slavery. But I think the most ominous part of the beginning of August was the feeling of doubt, the feeling that there is indeed a new beginning to deal with ... whether it is looking like something you want to do or not ... you feel that it is what it is ... not all bad, not ideal, at times you are so excited about the possibilities in a new beginnning that you never see the sullen-ness of a hot, humid, and at times thuderstorming day, and other times it feels like the entire world has something better to do, and you have to accept your mediocre plight and press on because that's just what you did ... as a kid ... and after all you only had a few more weeks to play.