OT-- WHEN SUMMER BREATHES ITS LAST

[TOOL MAN]

For Mom, who loved summertime above all else and who’d shed a tear each and every Labor Day.
A beach girl till the end…


WHEN SUMMER BREATHES ITS LAST
By Steve Cambria

To most in landers, Labor Day is little more than the first Monday in September, a chance to kick back and enjoy another precious, three day weekend. But for the thousands of summer residents who inhabit Connecticut’s beach communities, its arrival elicits a far more somber reaction. “Blue Monday” as it’s sometimes called, is (pardon the pun) a line in the sand that truly marks the end of our most cherished season, when the plug is pulled, the switch is thrown and the sign flashes: It’s Ovah!

Think about it, no other holiday is so definitive, so absolute in its finality. Contrary to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, Labor Day is that dreaded day when summer breathes its last.

For the die-hard, salt life worshippers, tell- tale signs of Labor Day’s approach are numerous. The searing heat of June and July eases and for the first time in months, a tug on a blanket is needed to ward off the pre-dawn chill. The sunrise that once inflamed the eastern sky just after 4 a.m. languishes like a sleepy child until nearly 5:30, and the daylight that fended off dusk till half past 9 p.m. in June, now relinquishes the fight well ahead of eight bells.

The beachfront itself grows eerily quiet. The shrill cries of toddlers, delirious from fun in the sand and waves are noticeably absent. School age kids all but vanish, unwillingly hauled away for haircuts and shopping with Mom, fretting over the thought of asphalt blackened, leather -tough feet being squished into new shoes and sneakers, and sun tanned limbs shrink- wrapped in long pants and dress shirts.

Gone are the distant rumble of speed boats, and the high pitch whine of jet skis. The kayaks, paddle boards and sailboats that days ago, dotted the Sound now resemble a seal colony resting atop the sand. Even the water itself changes texture, the onset of a brisk Nor’ westerly churning the tranquil and inviting azure into a mean spirited, steel-grey broth laced with white caps. All that’s heard now is the rustle of the wind, the breaking of the waves, the rhythmic clatter of halyards striking aluminum masts and a lone cricket-- running short on time-- pleading for a mate he may never find. A pall blankets the seascape, leaving behind a palpable loneliness that’s hard to ignore.

A life- long beach boy, I still feel a pit in my stomach and a stone in my heart whenever this weekend arrives. Looking back, Labor Day never felt much like a real holiday for there was much to do and precious little time for relaxation. It was a frenetic day cloaked in melancholy, oftentimes spent saying goodbye to summer friends, so long to summer crushes, hauling in boats and moorings, storing away fishing rods, tackle boxes, crab nets and minnow traps, emptying drawers full of shorts and swim suits, cleaning out refrigerators and freezers and loading up the family station wagon with enough foodstuff to stock a homeless shelter.

In between chores, I’d catch a few glimpses of the Jerry Lewis Telethon, trying my best to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that would arrive on cue, at the start of each school year. Despite repeated promises made with beach buds for a late September or Columbus Day Weekend gathering, alas, once the gear train of life back home reengaged-- like sand spilling through dust-dry fingers—plans unraveled. Sadly, it would be another nine months before we’d meet again.

With each passing year, my reluctance to bid farewell to summer only intensifies. Now, into the third quarter of my life, I’ve come to accept that the underlying dread of Labor Day isn’t spawned by the inevitability of the season’s end or from the anxiety over winter’s approach, but instead, by a much darker fear: the stark realization that that special someone might never again return to this blissful, seaside paradise.

Their sweet, tender soul snatched away one long, dark, lonely day after summer breathes its last.

[Researcher]

I can't wait for it to end!!

Still in the 90s here every day and too much wild fire smoke to even open the windows at night. Pretty sure my A/C has run more this summer then the previous 13 years. Last measurable precipitation was 28 June. It has been a terrible summer for us to have not gone to Alaska!!

[ROMAC]

Steve,

I read your post and it was a nice sentiment.

But I can't effing wait for the summer to be over.

I made 10 lbs. of venison jerky this weekend to clean out the freezer. I'll be Dove hunting tomorrow, and I'm looking over my striper plugs and albie jigs to go up Martha's vineyard the weekend after the Northern. I'm giddy that the summer is finite'.

[Stan Hillis]

We are all very different. The beach was a place I had to go with my parents as a kid ......... but the whole time I was there my mind was on the fields, ponds, creeks and rivers of home. Raised on a cotton farm in the Deep South I always had interesting things to do. Fishing, trapping, hunting as the season allowed, were tops. I would swim in the tailraces below lake dams until well into November. During the school year I would ride a bus 1 hour each way. When I'd get home I would go in and change into some hunting or fishing clothes and nobody would see me again until nearly dark. One summer I spent more nights camping under the stars by ponds, fishing jug lines all night, than I did inside my house in my bed. My folks knew that I was a hopeless outdoors boy, though my Mom made me take piano lessons for a brief few months. She eventually gave in to the inevitable.

As a row crop farmer, summer is vital to my livelihood. Rain, sunshine ....... both are vital to the successful growing of cotton and peanuts. But, from the day dove season goes out in late winter I begin the countdown until the first Saturday in September, which was yesterday, and dove season. I was raised shooting doves, hunting quail, hiding in the reeds waiting for ducks, and dreaming about doing all of them. The boy has become the man, and the man is still a hopeless dreamer of fields and streams. Summers heat, which may be most welcome at the coast, is only a nuisance to be tolerated until the late August, late afternoon, light rays turn golden and bathe the tree line with a hue not seen during the spring and summer.

Sadness at the approach of Labor Day? Not me. More like exuberance and unfettered excitement at the prospects of chasing wild things again.

Great post Steve, SRH

[loggy]

Steve,
Well written, but I must say I love the fall. Fall is too beautiful to waste. Never enough I ever toe outside.
John

[FoxintheHenHouse]

Thank God it's over, summer that is. Although we only had five days when it hit 90 degrees, I'm glad it's over. First day of dove season was 67 degrees and today, Labor day it will be 72 , mostly sunny and gorgeous outside! I feel sorry for all you poor blank who have to endure 80s & 90s for a couple more months yet. I am truly blessed with the weather, where I call home. No floods, no hurricanes, no 20 below zero, no 110 in the shade, no droughts, no wild fires, no poisonous snakes, no cactus or thorn trees, no hords of insects! No crappy weather conditions period!

[spyder]

Love your prose Toolman. You might appreciate this:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/whatever-h ... 1376698127

[Silvers]

Thank God it's over, summer that is. Although we only had five days when it hit 90 degrees, I'm glad it's over. First day of dove season was 67 degrees and today, Labor day it will be 72 , mostly sunny and gorgeous outside! I feel sorry for all you poor bastards who have to endure 80s & 90s for a couple more months yet. I am truly blessed with the weather, where I call home. No floods, no hurricanes, no 20 below zero, no 110 in the shade, no droughts, no wild fires, no poisonous snakes, no cactus or thorn trees, no hords of insects! No crappy weather conditions period!

Hey Tom, your term "bastard" is derogatory and offensive to at least some of us. Endure? Many choose to live in far less idyllic places than your glass bubble. Things a little slow for you yesterday?

frank

[Jeff S]

Steve, as always, truly great writing! Summers are precious and and should always be savored. With two daughters out of state and a third one planning a wedding, this was a hectic summer that seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Yes, I love the fall and time spent pursuing ducks, grouse and deer, but I sure could use one more 80 degree day drifting across Traverse Bay with my wife.

[FoxintheHenHouse]

Thank God it's over, summer that is. Although we only had five days when it hit 90 degrees, I'm glad it's over. First day of dove season was 67 degrees and today, Labor day it will be 72 , mostly sunny and gorgeous outside! I feel sorry for all you poor "BLANK" who have to endure 80s & 90s for a couple more months yet. I am truly blessed with the weather, where I call home. No floods, no hurricanes, no 20 below zero, no 110 in the shade, no droughts, no wild fires, no poisonous snakes, no cactus or thorn trees, no hords of insects! No crappy weather conditions period!

Hey Tom, your term "bastard" is derogatory and offensive to at least some of us. Endure? Many choose to live in far less idyllic places than your glass bubble. Things a little slow for you yesterday?

frank

Actually, it was a pretty great day. Good food and lots of fireworks saluting all our fallen soldiers and hard working people who keep this country running. Just enjoying my surroundings outloud I guess. I used a general term in expression of sympathy, but I'll leave it blank .... And if I live in a bubble, I'm sure grateful someone placed me here!

FoxintheHenHouse

[Stan Hillis]

I feel sorry for all you poor bastards who have to endure 80s & 90s for a couple more months yet. I am truly blessed with the weather, where I call home. No floods, no hurricanes, no 20 below zero, no 110 in the shade, no droughts, no wild fires, no poisonous snakes, no cactus or thorn trees, no hords of insects! No crappy weather conditions period!

Sounds boring to me. A lot of those things my part of the South can lay claim to, and we figure they help to keep the elitist, arrogant people away who think they've got it so much better than us "poor bastards".

We figure that's a damn good trade off.

SRH

[setterspell]

Steve, great writing. Thanks for sharing with us.
It's funny how changing seasons bring different thoughts to each of us. Each spring our dog reunion brings friends together and inevitably someone will mention how spring feels like the end of bird season. For myself it is a beginning of training for the upcoming fall and all the hopes and possibilities of another fall filled with color , smell( or scent if you have 4 legs) and sounds of flushing birds.

[FoxintheHenHouse]

Some would have gringed to have been in Vietnam when a common expression talking about the job the Marines just did was "you sons of bitches kicked ass". All Marines responded with a thank you, of course no offense taken. And being "in country" for five years, with just about unbearable tropical weather makes me very appreciative, not arrogant, of what Mother Nature provides for me now. I guess I don't realize these are surely different times now. Politically correct and all, from flags, to traditions, to coining a phrase. And to get back on thread, have a great fall season, no matter where you are.

FoxintheHenHouse

[Silvers]

Different times, different audience.

[abner]

Hi Tom: No offense here, I knew exactly what you meant and I'm glad you shared your part of the world with us--by the way where is it? I finished my masters on a Marine base in Tustin, California in the 1970s. Most of the students were Vietnam helicopter pilots and a few non Marines like myself filled the classes. It was a year I will not forget.