Wasn't it last week we were looking forward to the Fourth of July holiday? And with Labor Day on Monday, I'm supposed to believe the Summer of 2023 is over?
Where's Teeny Tom (Tiny Tim's alter ego, the one who wants it to be Christmas all the year through)? Page him to whatever color courtesy phone is nearest the nice weather. I'm not a big foul weather fan--to be honest, the only place I like ice is in my sparkling adult beverage.
So another summer has come and gone-for those who've lived through the winter of our discontent, the best we can hope for is a Second Summer and then a lovely fall that mysteriously and miraculously blends effortlessly into a beautiful New England spring.
What's that you say? Winter. Sorry, I can't hear you and there's no point in speaking up or repeating yourself; I still can't hear you. I understand the restorative powers and the role each of the seasons plays -I don't choose to enjoy winter. Ever since I didn't get that new sled for Nikolaus Tag a couple of years ago, I'm over it.
Truth to tell, considering the speed with which this summer passed and the number of us who had fervent hopes but few plans for what we were to do with it, perhaps what I should learn is to enjoy the days while they are here.
Anticipation is great (and perfect on burgers just not at Mar A Lago) but savoring the flavor of the moment, while in the moment may be something we old people (who think we're not) should cultivate and not try so hard to avoid.
-bill kenny
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