An Open Letter to the children of Long Island:
I’m sorry to have to tell you this, kids, but the summer’s over. Actually, it was officially over on June 28th, when I ducked into Marshall’s to escape the sweltering heat and was greeted by racks of the latest in fall fashions. I should have seen it coming when the Bed, Bath, & Beyond’s Back-to-College displays were already getting dusty the day after high school graduations, while the Christmas decorations were, no doubt, on their way out to the selling floor.
It used to be that summer had three “first days of.” There was Memorial Day, in May, that, when the sun cooperated, drove Long Islanders in droves to Mr. Jones’ Beach on the “unofficial first day of summer.” Then there was the day of the summer solstice, June 21 usually, which was the real “first day of summer.” But everyone knew that summer didn’t truly begin until the July 4th weekend. Then, there were eight weeks of summer camp or summer school, and a week for back-to-school shopping. Summer ended on the Labor Day weekend, always in September, when you had the last barbeque of the year and put away the bathing suits. Never mind that autumn doesn’t begin until September 21 (the 23rd this year); on the Wednesday after Labor Day we would don our woolen sweaters and slacks to greet old friends and face new teachers, while wiping off the sweat with our long sleeves.
There was a rhythm to the seasons: it was hot in the summer, cold in the winter, and delightful (though in polar opposite ways) in spring and fall. But I’m not talking about Global Warming (sorry, Al); I’m talking about the merchants who rush the sales seasons and tease, taunt, and tempt customers with their rush-rush marketing schemes. I wouldn’t want to be a toddler (or a parent of one) and be faced with tantalizing Halloween candy in every supermarket, drug store or department store, only to be told, “Hang in there, you’ve got nearly four months, 100+ days! before you can put on your costumes and fill your tummy with bags with of yummy candy.” And, of course, by the time you are at last celebrating Halloween, the Christmas rush is all but over.
Everyone knows that the calendar we use today was man- (probably-not-woman-) made; there’s no earthly reason why New Year’s isn’t celebrated in August, except for the fact that it coincides with earlier, pagan celebrations; the Hebrew calendar marks late summer/early fall as the beginning of a new year, and the Chinese calendar pegs the depths of the winter in the northern hemisphere as the time of its new year. But our calendar didn’t just fall neatly into place: the days and months had to be massaged, maneuvered, and finally shoved into being by everyone from Popes to Emperors to 18th century officials (who imposed the “eleven day” change in 1752), to whom we have to thank for 7-day weeks, 12-month years, and 365 (but sometimes 366) days a year.
Daylight Savings Time is another of those constructs that seems had always been, but was, in fact, only introduced in 1918, and has been fiddled with many times over the past century. And soon Daylight Savings Time will extend longer, and Eastern Standard Time will be shorter; starting in March 2007, daylight time in the United States will begin on the second Sunday in March (instead of the first Sunday in April) and end on the first Sunday in November, instead of the last Sunday in October). The rationalization for the imposition of Daylight Savings Time that I had been taught as a child, that farmers wouldn’t have to milk their cows in the dark, sounds less and less plausible. I would think that those cows would be mighty confused by now, as am I.
The good news is that Halloween, always October 31, will give sugar-crazed children another hour of afternoon sunlight in which they can extort candy from and play pranks upon their hapless neighbors. But the political campaign season, for those who follow these things, will still begin in the heat of the summer, and will still culminate on a cold, dark November night (not the first Tuesday of November, though, but the first Tuesday after the first Monday).
It would be nice to go back to a time when you could buy a bathing suit in July and snow shovels in November. The most I can hope for, though, is that we will rush the seasons so far ahead that, at least for a few years, our calendars and the marketing seasons will be in synchronicity with each other.
So pack up your newly-purchased backpacks with your newly-purchased school supplies and set your newly-purchased alarm clocks for tomorrow morning, children, because school started, like, yesterday.
I’m sorry to have to tell you this, kids, but the summer’s over. Actually, it was officially over on June 28th, when I ducked into Marshall’s to escape the sweltering heat and was greeted by racks of the latest in fall fashions. I should have seen it coming when the Bed, Bath, & Beyond’s Back-to-College displays were already getting dusty the day after high school graduations, while the Christmas decorations were, no doubt, on their way out to the selling floor.
It used to be that summer had three “first days of.” There was Memorial Day, in May, that, when the sun cooperated, drove Long Islanders in droves to Mr. Jones’ Beach on the “unofficial first day of summer.” Then there was the day of the summer solstice, June 21 usually, which was the real “first day of summer.” But everyone knew that summer didn’t truly begin until the July 4th weekend. Then, there were eight weeks of summer camp or summer school, and a week for back-to-school shopping. Summer ended on the Labor Day weekend, always in September, when you had the last barbeque of the year and put away the bathing suits. Never mind that autumn doesn’t begin until September 21 (the 23rd this year); on the Wednesday after Labor Day we would don our woolen sweaters and slacks to greet old friends and face new teachers, while wiping off the sweat with our long sleeves.
There was a rhythm to the seasons: it was hot in the summer, cold in the winter, and delightful (though in polar opposite ways) in spring and fall. But I’m not talking about Global Warming (sorry, Al); I’m talking about the merchants who rush the sales seasons and tease, taunt, and tempt customers with their rush-rush marketing schemes. I wouldn’t want to be a toddler (or a parent of one) and be faced with tantalizing Halloween candy in every supermarket, drug store or department store, only to be told, “Hang in there, you’ve got nearly four months, 100+ days! before you can put on your costumes and fill your tummy with bags with of yummy candy.” And, of course, by the time you are at last celebrating Halloween, the Christmas rush is all but over.
Everyone knows that the calendar we use today was man- (probably-not-woman-) made; there’s no earthly reason why New Year’s isn’t celebrated in August, except for the fact that it coincides with earlier, pagan celebrations; the Hebrew calendar marks late summer/early fall as the beginning of a new year, and the Chinese calendar pegs the depths of the winter in the northern hemisphere as the time of its new year. But our calendar didn’t just fall neatly into place: the days and months had to be massaged, maneuvered, and finally shoved into being by everyone from Popes to Emperors to 18th century officials (who imposed the “eleven day” change in 1752), to whom we have to thank for 7-day weeks, 12-month years, and 365 (but sometimes 366) days a year.
Daylight Savings Time is another of those constructs that seems had always been, but was, in fact, only introduced in 1918, and has been fiddled with many times over the past century. And soon Daylight Savings Time will extend longer, and Eastern Standard Time will be shorter; starting in March 2007, daylight time in the United States will begin on the second Sunday in March (instead of the first Sunday in April) and end on the first Sunday in November, instead of the last Sunday in October). The rationalization for the imposition of Daylight Savings Time that I had been taught as a child, that farmers wouldn’t have to milk their cows in the dark, sounds less and less plausible. I would think that those cows would be mighty confused by now, as am I.
The good news is that Halloween, always October 31, will give sugar-crazed children another hour of afternoon sunlight in which they can extort candy from and play pranks upon their hapless neighbors. But the political campaign season, for those who follow these things, will still begin in the heat of the summer, and will still culminate on a cold, dark November night (not the first Tuesday of November, though, but the first Tuesday after the first Monday).
It would be nice to go back to a time when you could buy a bathing suit in July and snow shovels in November. The most I can hope for, though, is that we will rush the seasons so far ahead that, at least for a few years, our calendars and the marketing seasons will be in synchronicity with each other.
So pack up your newly-purchased backpacks with your newly-purchased school supplies and set your newly-purchased alarm clocks for tomorrow morning, children, because school started, like, yesterday.
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