Turning Year

Labor Day is an arbitrary boundary, but real none-the-less. Summer ends.  No matter how many hamburgers we grill, horseshoes we toss, or strokes we swim, this is it; we’re on to other things. Like all milestones, it’s a time to look back and ahead. 

As children we despaired to see the back to-school signs in the windows of Woolworth’s.  Equipped with pencils, erasers and shiny shoes, we trudged off on the appointed morning, but there was an aura of anticipation that added a couple ergs of energy to our Shakespearean snail-like creep. 

So it is for us all. Things start up.  Throughout July and August the year holds still, but with the gentle lurch of Labor Day it starts again.  Activities resume and a feeling of normalcy returns. Like school, it’s a change for good or ill. There’s tonic in the cooler air that starts us moving. Orchestras return from firefly lighted venues to perform in their accustomed halls, plays open, and clubs meet.  Like the children, we greet tanned and rested friends who are ready to resume normal life.

Labor Day is as much the beginning of a new year as January 1^st, and I make resolutions. I will walk the streets of Boston and forsake the seaside fish houses for the flavor of French cuisine.  I’ll pick apples or at least buy some at the orchard’s edge.  I’ll notice the turning of the leaves.  A visit to Myles Standish State Forest revealed that a couple of trees are performing opening numbers before the headliners take the stage. 

Happy Labor Day.  Look back at the summer with a sigh, but look ahead as well.  Maybe not too far ahead; we need not dwell on puddles of slush, but there are good things to come and duties to be performed. It’s time to square our shoulders, step up to the blackboard, and do our sums.