EDITOR’S NOTE
Summer? No Sweat
The older I get, the more I find myself defending summer.
People my age complain about the humidity and heat like it’s their hobby, marking time until autumn rolls in. Summer goes by too quickly for me; I get anxious when the light shifts in August and I hear the marching band practicing at the high school up the road.
One minute you’re picking bugs out of patio drinks, and the next you’re looking for a jacket to ward off the cool air. It’s all over when someone suggests a bonfire.
Spring is a will-it or won’t-it get here tease, wrapped in mud and snow squalls. Fall gives off strong forced-fun vibes. We talk ourselves into pumpkin-flavored everything, and no one really likes orange, if we’re being completely honest.
Winter is too long with a get-me-outta-here urgency that hits mid-January and persists through March. The razzle-dazzle of the holidays is a short-lived distraction, an introduction to the months-long slog to come. The only upside to the season is that I’ve learned to indulge my hibernation tendencies, mostly because I have no choice.
No Rush
That brings me back to summer in Northeast Ohio, with so few truly hot days that air conditioning feels like a splurge. Our restaurants and other public places crank out just-cool-enough air in a very midwestern response to soaring temperatures. My kids live in the South, where they take their heat and humidity seriously. Sweater weather is any place indoors in the summer.
The biggest problem is that summer has bookends: Memorial Day and Labor Day, with the Fourth of July as its midpoint. We drift in and out of the other three seasons unencumbered by holiday markers. I prefer to set my summer-end sights on late September to stretch the season until my flowers finally give up and the first leaves fall.
This mind-game maneuvering gives more opportunities to squeeze in Northeast Ohio’s impressive lineup of festivals and outdoor concerts, parades and other special events (that you’ll find on our website, northeastohiothrive.com). I’m going to pick my way through the options for a custom-fit summer that leaves room for time to fritter away.
If you’ve got little ones in your life, make a trip to Memphis Kiddie Park, which we feature on this issue’s cover. Nothing triggers memories of childhood summers than seeing families in all their delightful mayhem maneuver their way through a nostalgia-packed amusement park. It reminds me why people have kids when they’re young, or at least not in their 60s.
Our story about aging in place covers families in a different way: how to navigate our own and our loved ones’ needs and desires as we get older. Like a jigsaw puzzle, you need to sort through the pieces to find the right fit of adaptations and assistance. We have a step-by-step guide with local resources to get you started.
For those I-hate-summer hobbyists, I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll listen politely, sympathize, and then spend as much time outside as I can, probably alone, working on my own hobbies — gardening, reading, painting — to stretch out the best season as long as possible.
I’ll avoid the farmers market when the pumpkins show up, and I won’t eat anything made from overgrown zucchini. The high school marching band practices will be tougher to ignore.
If a season has a bookend, marching band music isn’t the worst option. And there’s an upside: Their uniforms are black and gold, not orange.
-Marie Elium
