August

August is the last full month of summer and is named after a Roman dictator, Caesar Augustus. Before he took power he was just a punk named Octavian. After he took office, he could have your head cut off and mounted as a hubcap on a chariot wheel unless you called him August, which also means something that is majestic, admired.

Octavian came up with a definition of his own adopted name, although according to what we now know about him, he should have been called Jerk.

It’s pretty clear what the perks of political office can be.

When I was a teenager, I thought August was named after some guy named Auggie.

August is a month with no holidays at all, not one. This doesn’t stop people from taking their vacations in August. Most people do, which drives the prices up around here, gas, hotel rooms, and so on.

August is the month the kids have to go back to school, and here in Monterey that means the beaches are a little bit less crowded toward the end of the month. It means that all those kids from Ohio have to return to where they came from, and that makes me feel good because I have to work all the time and why should kids have time off in the summer to have fun when I can’t?

Serves ‘em right.

August is like a flower in full bloom, and it’s kind of sad if you’re the kind of person who looks for the down side in everything, because you realize the bloom is as extended as it’s going to get. You can’t get any more summer than this. This is it. The last hurrah. The last thirty days before huge men on TV with helmets on crack heads chasing a football, when apples fall off trees in other places than here (Monterey is too warm for apples), where the shorter days and tart, snappy air ring with the sounds of stirring cider and the whirring of power saws cutting away tree limbs (oh, I’m getting ahead of myself…that’s fall, isn’t it?)

Well, fall’s coming.

Where did summer go?

It went out in a flash. That’s August. August is the most luxuriant of summer months, a little less hot than July. The warm winds are smooth like velvet. This is God’s way of saying, I’m going to give you this one brief last moment in time to walk barefoot on the beach with your honey, and to cook those hot dogs on the grill that smell so good, and to pitch that beach tent. Because I’m going to take it all away. Soon, it will be dark by the time you get home from work, and everything will shrivel and get cold and clammy and the rain will keep you inside your house.

So, enjoy it while you can. The end is in sight.

Whatever you wanted out of summer, you’ve got to get it in August.

Reader’s note:
I tried to call the Monterey County Foolish Times, but dialed the wrong number. A guy answered and I said, “Is this the County Fool?”

“Who is this?” he angrily asked.

I realized my mistake.

“Do you know who this is?” I asked.

“No!” he yelled.

“Good!” I hung up the phone..

You can read more columns by John W. Sammon by visiting:
www.sammonsays.com