Growing up we always knew summer was at an end when the equipment starting returning to the barn to be fix, repaired and maintain for the next cycle. No more crops to pick in the fields since most had given us their bounty already. The days would get shorter and there was more time at night on the front porch with family. The lightening bugs were absent at night. The sun seemed just hot and not scorching.
Neighbors actually started visiting again and Elmer Grange #29 would start having events since the farmers were more free. Even the party line operator for our eight person line seem to be a more relaxed mood. The County Fairs and beauty pageants were always at the end of summer and we couldn't wait to see who would be 'Miss Elmer'. My sister Patsy one time placed second in Miss Elmer and we still believe she was robbed.
Schools didn't start until the third week of September to give all the farmer kids time to put everything in place for the winter. Even though by late August the first chills had not visited us, it was clear that change was in the air.
Living in New York in August is both a blessing and a curse. At times I feel like that Matt Lucas character in 'Little Britain' where he is the 'only gay in the village'. Daffyd, who lives in the Welsh village of Llanddewi Brefi, is a committed 'homosexualist' who believes he is the only gay in the village. (see photograph above).
The Hampton's, P-Town, Asbury Park, the Catskills and Fire Island seems to suck life right out of the city every weekend. This city empties in August and increasingly becoming like Paris a city without a heartbeat for one month a year.
The good news is traffic is so much better. That it is a splendid time to do the more serious plays and musicals (the tourists swamp the other ones) and you really do catch-up on your summer reading. Reservations at good restaurants? Take your pick and enjoy a quiet meal.
The bad news is that it is hard to arrange dinners, have long casual brunches with friends and it is damn hot, very hot here in the concrete jungle.
Then there are those pesty tourists with so many children that they would give Planned Parenthood a heart attack! They fill buses that line the streets to Times Square and leave their engines running to keep them cool but single handily melts miles of ice in Greenland each year.
Sitting in the window of the Glass House Tavern (like some Amsterdam hooker) it is interesting to watch the parade of families from around the world making their trip of a lifetime.
Some of these families have saved for years to make the journey to the greatest city in the world. You always know which ones have struggled to pay for this vacation because they are the happiest, most delighted to take in all the site and don't view the trip as just another destination they can check off their budget list for their kids. Take a short walk to Times Square at night and it is filled with wide-eyed and excited families. I love them.
Really, not sure why I am even writing this piece since no one, absolutely no one, is left in the city to read it. Being the 'only gay in the village' is a big responsibility and I only hope I can live up to it.