August. It's the non sequitur of months. How's that, you ask? Well, if you ask me, August is an abrupt, unexpected plot twist. It doesn't make sense.
Here we were, following along with the story arc for summer. First chapter began in January with longing for warmer days. Then we got propelled along in that lingering springtime build up to the solstice in June. Then, Hurrah! At last! The climax of the story! Joyous sunny days! Daylight until late! Beach walks, ice cream, gin and tonics, farmers' markets, barbecues! All those happy, sunkist events that roll us merrily along in July.
Then, SURPRISE! The calendar flips over to August. Technically it should still be summer, but August doesn't follow that premise, does it? August gives us evenings when we need to put on a light sweater. Oh, sure we can still go to the shore and there are ripe tomatoes to look forward to. But it's not nearly the same as July, is it? In August we suddenly notice that it's getting dark by 8:30. We detect a slight nip in the air. Maybe we spot a leaf already turning yellow. Back to School ads pop up on TV. Even the name, "August" is heavy. We can put our fingers in our ears and go, "La, la, la, la, la!" But the inevitable is right around the corner. The storyline turns, as it always does, toward September, and from there we know it won't be long until the year's denouement at Christmas. As I said, August is a plot twist.
And if that metaphor wasn't tortured enough, here's another. August is the church potluck supper of months. A hodge-podge of flavours. Mostly nondescript. No unique character. July is the fun foods! Silly, giddy, fancy-free fare: hot dogs on the grill, potato chips, watermelon, strawberry shortcake, pink lemonade, and cold plates of shrimp salad served in lettuce cups. September identifies with school lunches, chicken noodle soup, apple crisp, and sweet corn on the cob dripping in butter. But, August? August is a throwback menu straight out of Betty Crocker. Potato salad, Deviled eggs, ham, aspic. Bland.
Okay, last one. August is the Charlie Brown of months. It's the "lovable loser" lacking self-confidence. July is Snoopy as Joe Cool. Cocky, casual, laid back, self-assured. Unlike July, August doesn't know what the heck it wants to be. It is a pessimist most days, with an occasional optimistic outlook. Flying a kite but waiting for it to snag on the kite-eating tree. Packing a picnic but expecting rain, or wasps. That's a Charlie Brown attitude right there. September knows what it is. September is Linus' security blanket. But poor August? It suffers from an identity crisis. August is neither mid-summer nor is it early-fall. It should just pay the 5 cents for Lucy's psychiatric counseling already. Of all the months of the year, August is the Charlie Browniest.
August is the glass half-empty. There. I said it.
