It's summer and the living is queasy
Winter and summer have much in common: For one thing, they both take up too much space on the calendar.
I'm not particularly fond of summer. I know I should be. I should be a lot of things I'm not: Tall, handsome, athletic, rich, multilingual, an astronaut. I can't do anything about this. And I can't do anything about summer.
Just to be clear, I'm not a fan of winter either. Some Canadians think it's the best six months of the year. Some Canadians are idiots. Snowmobiling? It's eight hours of permanent hearing loss. Snowshoeing? It's frost bite waiting to happen. Christmas? Bah, humbug and get thee to an orphanage.
Actually, winter and summer have much in common (other than I don't like them). They're both extreme. Thirty degrees, plus or minus. They're both tedious. Thirty degrees, plus or minus, for days on end. And they both take up too much space on the calendar, which is patently unfair to fall and spring.
Ah, spring. . .We hardly know you before you're gone, gobbled up by summer's hot, smelly maw. Where do all the daffodils go? Into the compost. Where do all the laughing urchins go? To organized camps run by 60-year-old boy scouts with bad breath and orthopedic shoes.
A while ago, I compiled a list of my top 10 grievances against summer. I'd like to say I did this because I want to educate people and make the world a better place. But the truth is that, as a humour writer, I have far too much time on my hands. You can see what I mean by reviewing the following "Why Summer Sucks":
1. Speedos "" Whoever told middle-aged men this is a good look for them should be drawn and quartered with his or her own g-string.
2. The Beach Boys "" Firstly, they're not "boys" anymore, and secondly no one's having "fun, fun, fun" until "her daddy takes her T-bird away."
3. Harleys "" They're overloud, overbearing, and overrated. Just like their baby-boomer owners who are anything but "born to be wild".
4. June Bugs "" If you like clumsy, flying cockroaches that stick to your hair and crunch sickeningly beneath your feet, then fill your boots (before these do).
5. Hippie Chicks "" I once knew a girl named "Summer". She said she'd sleep with me if learned yoga. I never did. Enough said.
6. Tourists "" You take a right at the next stop sign and go north. No, I said right, not left. No, I said north, not south. . .OK, let's go over this again.
7. Guests "" Hey, how are you after 15 years? You're staying the whole summer? And your back is bad, so you'll need the good mattress. Grand!
8. Sandals "" There's a reason why God invented shoes. And it has everything to do with bunions, corns, calluses, fungus, and hangnails.
9. Camping "" Hmmm. . .black flies, wood ticks, hornets, wasps, outhouses, beans and wieners, relentless boredom. Where do I sign up?
10. Golf "" Club plus ball plus sand trap equals humiliation 18 times in a row. The "sport of gentlemen" is an excellent way to ruin a good walk.
Not that summer is all bad, mind you. One learns to adapt to the inevitable otherwise one goes insane.
Why, just the other day, while reclining on my back deck, admiring the gorgeous blooms sprouting from my Icelandic poppy and columbines, sipping a very dry gin martini (shaken, not stirred), I happened to notice a woman of indeterminate age sunbathing several backyards away. I thought how noble and brave of her to embrace the sun so enthusiastically.
It seems odd now, but images of fall never crossed my mind.
Alec Bruce is a Moncton-based writer who contributes weekly to this space. He may be reached via www.thebrucereport.com.
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