Story 647: End of Regular Summer, Start of Local Summer

             (On the phone)

Friend 1: Hi there!

Friend 2: Hey – just checking if you want to meet up sometime during Labor Day weekend?  You’re off at least one of those days, right?

Friend 1: Just Sunday this year – the irony of working on a holiday specifically called “Labor Day” has slapped me in the face yet again, but I suppose I brought this on myself by remaining in the wonderful world of retail.

Friend 2: Is it more supportive if I boycott where you work that day, or if I spend money there to keep you all employed?

Friend 1: Eh – can’t speak for my coworkers, but I get time-and-a-half either way so makes no difference to me if I’m bored or frazzled while I’m at it.

Friend 2: I’ll just come and visit you, then.

Friend 1: Appreciate it.  I still can’t believe it’s Labor Day already.

Friend 2: Yeah, I know what you mean: there goes another summer for the books.

Friend 1: Uh-huh.  Another summer, out the window.

Friend 2: Hm.

Friend 1: Down the drain.

Friend 2: Hmmm….

Friend 1: Closer to death.

Friend 2: OK, that’s enough: you wanna meet up on Sunday for brunch or one last go at the amusement park or what?

Friend 1: Yeah, I’ll say “Nah” for going anywhere this weekend – everyone else’ll still be there, and I can’t stand everyone else.

Friend 2: Fine: maybe we’ll do something later in the month when it’s Local Summer, all right?

Friend 1: What’s that?

Friend 2: What’s what?

Friend 1: “Local Summer”.  I thought it was summer for everyone this side of the Equator, not just locally.

Friend 2: What?  Wait, you never heard of Local Summer before?

Friend 1: Should I have?

Friend 2: I dunno, I thought it was one of those things everyone knows about.

Friend 1: Then I guess my ignorance is showing, just in time for Back to School.  So, what is it?

Friend 2: Well, you know how everywhere you go, The Shore is jam-packed with tourists every day from Memorial Day to Labor Day?

Friend 1: Yes.  That’s why I never go to The Shore unless I’m staying overnight and can walk everywhere.  And only once a year, because that’s all I can take of that chaos.

Friend 2: So, Local Summer is when the tourists all have gone back to wherever they came from, but the weather’s still decent and a lot of summer stuff’s still open, so the locals now actually get to enjoy their own towns.

Friend 1: Huh.  Makes sense, I guess.  But we’re not technically locals, you know.

Friend 2: We’re close enough: our license plates are from the same state and we know how to behave – we’ll be welcomed with open arms.

Friend 1: Cool.  But the beaches’ll all be closed, right?

Friend 2: Well, there’ll be no lifeguards so you can’t go swimming, but you can still walk around and hang out on them which is what you’d do anyway.

Friend 1: True.

Friend 2: And at that point, they’ll be free!

Friend 1: You just said the magic word.

Friend 2: Parking won’t be free until mid-October –

Friend 1: Darn.

Friend 2: – but we’ll actually be able to find a spot that’s not five miles away from where we want to go, so there’s that.

Friend 1: Sweet.  OK, I’m in – have any place in mind?

Friend 2: I was thinking ------- -------.

Friend 1: I’ve never been anywhere near that place before January or after March – the crowds surrounding it otherwise prevent me from getting too close.

Friend 2: Well, by mid-September, that should no longer be an issue. 

MID-SEPTEMBER 

(Friend 1 is driving with Friend 2 in the passenger seat as they arrive at ------- ------- in record time with no real traffic; Friend 1 glides the car right into a parking spot on the street near the boardwalk, in the middle of everything they want to visit)

Friend 1: (As they both exit the car, starts spinning around in circles in wonder while heading to the sidewalk) I don’t understand – where is everybody –

(On the nearly-empty beach)

Friend 1: Where is everybody?!

(On the nearly-empty boardwalk)

Friend 1: WHERE IS EVERYBODY???!!!

Friend 2: Back at home, at school, at work – all that matters is: not here.  (Points to the nearly-empty amusement park section on the boardwalk) Wanna go on the spinning teacups first or the roller coaster first?

Friend 1: YES!

(Friend 1 and Friend 2 ride all the rides with no lines, then eat all the boardwalk food they want with no wait, then play multiple rounds of miniature golf with no parties of 10 before or after them, then run up and down the beach with no sunbathers blocking their way, and then walk to all the local shops in town with hardly any shoppers to maneuver around)

Friend 1: (As they both stroll along the quiet main avenue, eating ice cream that was served a minute after they walked into the shop) You know, I think I’m starting to prefer Local Summer to Regular Ol’ Summer.

Friend 2: I figured you would.

Friend 1: It’s just so… (Looks around the mellow shore town) peaceful.  A few weeks ago, it was probably so stuffed with mayhem that I would’ve had a silent meltdown, but now, this is what it always should be like: tranquil, mild, calm, soothing, all those relaxing adjectives that summer’s supposed to represent.

Friend 2: I bet.  (Crunches on the rest of an ice cream cone)

Friend 1: (Throws away a used napkin into a nearby trash can) You know, I think we should spend our summers here, after everybody else’s summer, from now on; not a care in the world; let that summer feeling last past August 31 even though it’s technically summer for another three weeks; whaddya say?

Friend 2: That’s fine, but I should let you know that the downside to Local Summer starting in September is that the Sun pretty much goes away around 7:00 –

Friend 1: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Story 645: Nothing Should Last Forever

            “Ahhhhhhhh, I wish I could stay like this forever.”

“Hm?”

“You know, relaxing on beach chairs in the shaded Sun and a gentle breeze, watching the water gently lapping at the shoreline, cool lemonade in hand, listening to the gulls and crows and what-not.”

“Crows?  On the beach?... Oh yeah, they’re here too, imagine that.”

“As I was saying: everything right now is Perfection with a capital ‘P’, and I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Huh, yeah, no you don’t.”

“EXCUSE me?!  I think I know what I’m talking about?!”

“You sure think you do.”

“OK, All-Mighty Omniscience, whyever would I not want to stay in Paradise forever?!”

“First of all: you said it was ‘Perfection.’”

“Seriously?!”

“And secondly: you’d get tired of it.”

“No I wouldn’t!  I love every single moment we’re in right now!  Well, not this exact moment since you’re ruining it, but all the ones before it and the ones soon to come afterward!”

“Yeah, but that only lasts for so long.  Soon enough, you’ll get muscle cramps, or it’ll feel too hot, or it’ll get too cold when the Sun starts setting, or you’ll start getting hungry and want dinner, or you’ll get tired and want to go sleep in your bed.”

“Fine-fine, I get where some of that stuff comes into play, so theoretically, if nothing in our circumstances in this moment could change, then I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Yeah, no – you’d get bored.”

“I would not!”

“You would too: anyone would if they were stuck in the same position forever.  You didn’t even bring a book to read.”

“Because this time I wanted to truly appreciate the beauty of Nature!”

“And if you never move from this spot ever again, you’d better over-appreciate this exact segment of Nature `cause that’s all you’ll experience for the rest of your existence.  Which apparently is forever, according to you.”

“I – but – Perfection – !”

“There’s no such thing.”

“…You ruin everything, you know that?”

“Here, go watch those dolphins who decided to frolic in the waves all of a sudden.”

“Ooh, dolphins, they’re absolutely Perfect!”

Story 642: Midsummer or Mid-Summer?

            (Friend 1 and Friend 2 sit in beach chairs facing a lake in a park and read beach-read books)

Friend 1: (Lowers the book to watch a duck land in the water and start taking a bath; to Friend 2) When is Midsummer anyway?

Friend 2: (Without looking up from reading) Northern Hemisphere or Southern?

Friend 1: Ha-ha.  (After a few moments of silence) Northern.

Friend 2: (Sets aside the book and takes out a cell phone) Well, let’s consult the Oracle, shall we?  If I can get a signal out here.  (Searches online for a minute) OK, got it: summer solstice.

Friend 1: What?!  That can’t be right.

Friend 2: (Holds out the phone to Friend 1) Oracle says so right here.

Friend 1: (Takes the phone, skims the online encyclopedia article, and hands the phone back to Friend 2) That makes no sense – why would people celebrate Midsummer at the beginning of summer?!

Friend 2: (Skims through the rest of the article) Says here the festival’s in the middle of the growing season.

Friend 1: Exactly: so why isn’t it called Midgrowing, then?

Friend 2: (Types a bit) I guess “Midsommar” has a nicer ring to it than “Mellanväxt”.

Friend 1: That’s not a real reason.

Friend 2: (Returns to the original article) Says here that it also celebrates the longest day of the year at the beginning of summer.

Friend 1: Yes, again, the beginning of summer, so why isn’t it – hang on – (Takes out a cell phone and types a bit) “Bӧrjan Av Sommaren”?

Friend 2: I dunno; go ask Scandinavian countries centuries ago when it all started.

Friend 1: (Nods and begins typing)

Friend 2: (Grabs Friend 1’s phone) I was being facetious – that wasn’t an invitation for you to cause an international incident.

Friend 1: Oh fine.  (Grabs the phone back and pockets it) So, going back to my original question: when is the midpoint of summer?

Friend 2: The exact middle of the season itself?

Friend 1: Exactly.

Friend 2: August 7.

Friend 1: (Blinks in shock) Wow – how did you know that precise date off the top of your head?

Friend 2: I read about it during summer vacation when I was 13, and I remembered it ever since.

Friend 1: Rought summer?

Friend 2: You have no idea.

Friend 1: Yeesh.  Well, good to know, thanks.

Friend 2: Why do you want to know, anyway?

Friend 1: (Stares out at the lake as more ducks arrive to bathe) Oh, just curious how much more of this glorious, magical season I have to enjoy, that’s all.

Friend 2: We’re in the middle of July.

Friend 1: (Wistfully) I know.

Friend 2: August 7 is weeks away, and even then you’d still have another month before the start of school that you no longer go to but still use as a benchmark for your year.

Friend 1: (Sighingly) I know.

Friend 2: Then why aren’t you enjoying this – (Waves an arm up at the blazing Sun and the cloudless sky and the chirping birds and the gentle breeze and the swaying trees and the green grass all around them) now?

Friend 1: I would, it’s just… fall will be here soon enough –

Friend 2: Oh, jeez.

Friend 1: And it’s supposed to thunderstorm the rest of the week, and possibly even flood because of all the drought we’ve had lately.

Friend 2: Well… we do… need the rain….

Friend 1: Yes, but must we need it right now?

Friend 2: …Yes….

Friend 1: Doesn’t it know I’m on staycation this week?

Friend 2: I… don’t think “it” cares….

Friend 1: Well then.  The entire summer, gone in a downpour flash.

Friend 2: Not the entire summer.  And not today.

Friend 1: (Grudgingly) No, not today.

Friend 2: (Staring at the ducks with Friend 1 for a few moments) Even though it’s not Midsommar or Mid-Summer, you wanna celebrate regular summer today and go to the promenade by the bay and have some ice cream?

Friend 1: I think that’s the only appropriate response to this situation, yes.

Story 639: Summer Solstice Slump

            “You know what I realized that’s getting me a little down?”

“No, what’s that?”

“I waited so long for summer this year.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, this past winter, swe actually had blizzards and everything for once, and it was so, so cold for so long.”

“Yeah?”

“And it was night for two-thirds of the day for six months.”

“Yeah?”

“And I slept for more hours than I went outside for nine months.”

“Yeah?”

“And did I mention it was so cold for so long?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, so now, it’s here.”

“Yeah?”

“Summer.  At long last.  So much Sun, so much warmth, so much time.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, it’s the same amount of time each day, but it feels like more time, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“And then it hit me.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s going the other way now.”

“Yeah – what?”

“Summer Solstice.  First day of summer.  June 21 in this half of the globe.”

“Yeah?”

“I used to look forward to it every year because it’s the start of summer, the beginning of everything good and fun and awesome and relaxing and wonderful.”

“Yeah?”

“And this year I suddenly realized: it’s not really the beginning of the beginning, it’s actually the beginning of the end.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, if Winter Solstice is that happy moment where we start gaining one minute of sunshine each day, then the horrible opposite must be true.”

“Yeah?”

“With Summer Solstice, with lose one minute of sunshine each day.”

“Yeah?  Oh, yeah.”

“Which means, every day of what I thought was amazing summer actually is getting shorter and shorter and shorter with every passing tilt of the planet on its axis!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s spring that’s the sunshine-gainer!  But it rains for almost the entire time, and then we don’t get the awesome weather and the liberating release from school into fun and vacations and parties until the end of it!”

“You haven’t been to school in decades.”

“Not the point!”

“Yeah?”

“Every moment, summer is slipping away from us, and the cruel irony is that we think we’re deep in the heart of it!  It’s so unfair!”

“Yeah?”

“Why does everything good seem to happen when it’s on its way out the door?”

“That’s life, I suppose.”

“That’s a weak argument for an intolerable situation.”

“Well, what can I tell you: it’s always been this way, and you have practically two whole months of not even noticing the earlier sunsets, so if that isn’t summer, then I don’t know what is.”

“Twenty-four-hour sunlight and constant hot weather.”

“I suggest you move to Venus, then.”

“Oh ha-ha; I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“I just want a whole season’s worth of constant sunshine to tide me over into the deep freeze with weird warm days thrown in there and the long nights of horrible, horrible late-fall, all-of-winter, and half of spring.”

“Well, even though we’re at the beginning of the end, it’s still light out after 9 p.m., so that’s something in the plus column for you.”

“…I’ll take it.”

Story 636: Summer Has Started Three Weeks Early

(On a small beach, Friend 1 and Friend 2 sit on beach chairs under an umbrella, facing a bay that eventually goes into an ocean)

Friend 1: (Gestures at the nearly empty beach around them) See?  All the benefits of “The Beach”, with none of the hassle.  None of the crowds, none of the traffic, none of the fees.

Friend 2: (After a few moments staring at the gently lapping waves) None of the lifeguards.

Friend 1: Which is why we’re not swimming.

Friend 2: None of the bathrooms.

Friend 1: Which is why you’re always supposed to go before you leave home.

Friend 2: None of the –

Friend 1: Listen, do you want the experience of “The Beach” without dealing with all that stuff in actually going to “The Beach”, or not?!

Friend 2: It’s just… kind of boring.

Friend 1: How so?  Neither of us really swim at this point in our lives anyway, and we never surfed or paddle boarded or any of those major-athlete shenanigans, so how is this – (Gestures at the beach and water this time) any different?

Friend 2: I guess, but I’d still like the option to go swimming in the actual ocean, you know?

Friend 1: You stand in the shallows for five minutes and go back to reading under the umbrella for the rest of the time we’re there.

Friend 2: Still.  The water’s just different, you know?

Friend 1: Salt water, fresh water, brackish water – cold is cold.

Friend 2: And I do kind of miss some of the crowds.

Friend 1: (Lowers sunglasses to stare at Friend 2 in disbelief) What?!

Friend 2: Well, mainly the kids playing in the sand, making their little castles that won’t last the day, or throwing small balls that always wind up lost at sea, or floating around with their boogie boards, that sort of thing.

Friend 1: You’re always complaining how loud they are and that they’re running around all over the place and ruining your vibe!

Friend 2: I do not.

Friend 1: Ha!

Friend 2: I do not!  I think you’re confusing me with you.

Friend 1: Sure, I complain about them too, but at least I own it!

Friend 2: (Stares out at the water, brow furrowed in thought) Huh.  Maybe I do complain about them more than I thought.

Friend 1: I’ll say no more.  (Sips from a water bottle)

Friend 2: But still, it’s only early June now –

Friend 1: Summer has started for me, yes.

Friend 2: – so all those kids are still in school for another three weeks; couldn’t we have gone to an actual beach and still had peace and quiet?  I mean, I thought that was the whole point of us taking time off and going on a weekday now instead of in summer proper, when everyone will be there, every day, all day long?

Friend 1: (Stares at Friend 2 again) I am not paying $20 for the almost-exact same experience that I can get for free.

Friend 2: It’s $20 at that beach now?

Friend 1: Disgustingly, yes.

Friend 2: Per person?

Friend 1: Per car.

Friend 2: Oh, that makes more sense.  What about other beaches?

Friend 1: Slightly less per person, but I wouldn’t put it past them to raise fees once again, in solidarity with everything else inflating.

Friend 2: Hm.  Guess this really is the better option this time of year.

Friend 1: Darn tootin’.  And another thing: the lifeguard beaches don’t even reduce fees for this lull month when most of the crowds aren’t there yet, so if they consider it to be summer now, then so do I.

Friend 2: Summer doesn’t start until June 21.

Friend 1: I said what I said.

(They stare out at the water some more)

Friend 2: I suppose I could stand in the water for five minutes here just as well as anywhere else.

Friend 1: Go for it.

Friend 2: (Points to a section farther down the beach) Ooh, and look!  Seagulls, just like at a real beach!

Friend 1: This is a real beach!

Friend 2: You know what I mean.

Friend 1: (Picks up a trowel that was used to plant the umbrella) All right, would it make you feel better if you dig a massive hole in the sand and then immediately fill it in so you can have five seconds of childhood nostalgia?

Friend 2: Yes please.  (Snatches the trowel out of Friend 1’s hand and starts digging a massive hole in glee).

Friend 1: (Opens a book to read) You know, you can thank me for the other experience that you’re also getting free of charge, and no true summer at “The Beach” is complete without.

Friend 2: (Stops digging to look back at Friend 1) Oh?  And what magical summer experience is that?

Friend 1: Sand everywhere.

Story 629: Easter and Passover = A Lot of Work

             “Can you believe it’s only the beginning of April and we’ve reached 80°F over 10 times already this year?”

“No, but I LOVE IT.”

“I would too, if we hadn’t leap-frogged over spring and straight into summer, then back into winter for another go-around of chilly rain before off into summer again.”

“Well, you know what they say: ‘April chilly rain brings May grass.’”

“…No one has ever said that.”

“Anyway, this all reminds me that it’s my turn to host the family at Easter this year, and I’ve been dreading it for weeks.”

“Oh?  What for?  Don’t you love all the marshmallow candy and colored eggs and giant bunnies and all that other stuff that’s only acceptable at this time of year?  And don’t you always say your family is the only thing that matters in your life or something like that?”

“Well, yes, but there’s also just so dang many of us.”

“True, there are.”

“I can only fit so many on couches and chairs and floors in the living and dining rooms before they start spilling over into my realm, The Kitchen, and that simply won’t do.”

“Aye, no.”

“We have a perfectly fine backyard, but if the chilly rain decides to make an appearance that lovely morn, then forget about anyone going outside.”

“I hear you.”

“And even if the Sun is blazing a balmy 60°, they’ll still all cram themselves into the living room, dining room, and The Kitchen, because no one wants to move.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And yet, when it’s time to clean up – tumbleweeds and crickets.”

“Oh, yes.”

“That’s not entirely true – a few of the regulars pitch in, bless them, but overall it’s the opposite: watching the game, diving into the digital world, or napping.”

“True, true.”

“And the blessing of all that food!  Weeks to plan, days to prepare, gone in minutes, still gallons of leftovers I almost have to pay people to get enough out of the house so we manage to have the rest before it spoils.”

“Agreed.”

“Wish I could take the next day off to recover from all that plus the furniture clean-up, but nope!  Back to the office bright and early the next morning, which of course is a Monday, Heaven help me.”

“The soul sighs.”

“So, enough of all that: how’s it with you for Passover this year?”

“Oh, same: entire family’s coming over for seder, which of course is on a weeknight this year.”

“Of course.”

“All that prep, all that food, and we have to wait until after sundown to start so it’s even later by the time we start cleaning up everything and everyone goes home, and then, you guessed it, right back to the office the next day.”

“Always the way.”

“Doing all that work year after year, you start wondering why we even go through the whole thing to begin with.”

 “I know – there must be some reasons for these holidays.”