Summer's End: Goodbye, Local Peaches

By Roger Rosenblatt

"My idea of a vacation is to rest quietly in the shade of a blond."

--Dick Powell

Come September, children return to school, grownups to work, and the brain to the head. Not that the brain actually leaves the head during the summer months; rather, something happens to it, or on it, like a moon caught in an eccentric orbit between the sun and, say, East Hampton or Bodega Bay. Astronomers know this event either as the "mental equinox" or "cranial eclipse." It is not serious, causes no permanent damage; the apparatus is simply altered while the body is on vacation. After Labor Day, when the body stands vertical again, the brain pops back into shape like an inflated cauliflower, proving its recovery by formulating the first white lie of the season: "Had a marvelous time. Marvelous." Oh, that brain. What a kidder.

In fact, of course, no one even remembers what sort of time one has on summer vacation, because the mind is not itself. All we ever have are the vaguest recollections, preserved for a brief time in their rich excitement before they fade like a tan:

Summer Talk "Are these local peaches?"

"These local peaches sure look good."

"What magnificent peaches!"

"They're much sweeter than last year's peaches."

"These peaches local?"

Summer Achievements

The discovery of any of the following items in Antiques 'n' Stuff: a carved ivory head of Samuel F.B. Morse; 20 matching miniature spoons; a slightly damaged print of all the U.S. Presidents up to 1900 as they might have looked strolling arm in arm; a weather vane in the shape of a wolf.

The discovery of any of the following items on the beach: a dead crab; a dead crayfish; a Fresca bottle; a rock of three colors.

Being asked to a cocktail party to honor Kurt Waldheim.

Overhearing someone tell about being asked to a cocktail party to honor Kurt Waldheim.

The day any of the following addressed you by name: Surf (the lifeguard), Hun (the policeman), Marvin (the village idiot), Red (of Red's Peach Stand).

Summer Entertainment

A Dalmatian scratching its back on the side of the road not far from Red's Peach Stand.

A cloud in the shape of a moose.

The noon siren.

Listening to Hun tell you about the day the noon siren went off at 11:30.

A summer theater production of Camelot, starring Bert Parks and Martina Navratilova; to be followed by Gary Coleman and Phil Rizzuto in Twelve Angry Men.

Now showing at Cinema 1: The Eye of the Nazi, with Donald Sutherland--adventures of the famous German spy known as "Der Nazi"; at Cinema 2: Arlene, with Bernadette Peters and Helen Hayes--zany alcoholic millionairess cavorts with foul-mouthed maid; at Cinema 3: Blow Dry ("Murder has a wave of its own")--hair stylist overhears plot to murder the memory of Alfred Hitchcock.

A high-speed fire-engine ride through town for the kids, with Marvin at the wheel.

Summer Ideas

To buy a backhoe (variously, Surfs black-and-yellow dune buggy, a brood mare, 50 uncleared mountaintop acres, a floor sander).

To quit one's job in the city, and be happy all the time.

To quit one's job in the city, open a peach stand, and be happy all the time.

To carry a 285-pound boulder back home, where it will serve as a stunningly original coffee table.

Summer Problems

Tanya Tucker and Glen Campbell--are they really kaput?

Can you recall the name of Gerald Ford's Secretary of State?

Was it: a) Ramsay Clark, b) Clark Clifford, c) Clark Vance, d) Mark Clark or e) Clark Clark?

What exactly was it she said--"I want to be alone," "I want to be let alone," "Let me alone," "These sure are beautiful peaches"?

Are there enough chairs for everyone to sit outside?

Are you sure Red's wife's name is Tud?

Summer Decisions

This is the first day of the rest of my life.

The journey of a thousand miles starts with one step.

I am my own person.

I'll call her (him).

Summer Hypothesis

If only the simple, ordinary Russian and American people could meet face to face, and sit down and talk . . .

Summer Song

Joan Crawford Eyebrows ("Oh, they use you/ And abuse you").

Summer Reading

John McEnroe Sr.: My Story

Furniture Sexuality: The Hite Report

You and Me Against the World, by M. Gaddafi and I. Amin

David Stockman's Party Joke Book

I'll Never Forget You: Evangeline Gouletas-Carey

Summer Wisdom

There is nothing in this world like a peach.

There is nothing in this world like a lobster.

Everything tastes better cooked outdoors.

You get the worst kind of burn on a day like this.

You know, all the poets and philosophers in history can't hold a candle to this one little leaf.

And there they go--the summer memories faded almost completely now as the brain, restored, readies itself for the lions in winter. Goodbye, local peaches. Goodbye, Hun. Goodbye, Red. So the earth rolls reluctantly away from heaven, not to return for ten marvelous months. --By Roger Rosenblatt

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.