Fun of August wanes as Ferris wheel ceases

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

Every year, for many years, since I first read Natalie Babbitt's wonderful children's book "Tuck Everlasting" to my children who are now grown, I have celebrated Top of the Ferris Wheel Day.

"The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning," Babbitt wrote. "The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn." The first week of August, she believed was magical.

We believed it, too. So in our house, we chose Aug. 1 as Top of the Ferris Wheel Day. And every year we were amazed that it really was, that on or near this date you would always feel as if you were floating above a hot, hazy world in the highest seat of summer.

Not this year though. This year, Aug. 1 was gray and bleak and so was Aug. 2 and 3 and as the first week of August came and went, the seats of the Ferris wheel remained silent and empty and still.

My husband says summer isn't about a calendar. We may write September on our checks and turn to it in our planners but September can be the August we never had. He says that the ride isn't over and that it's not too late to hop on the Ferris wheel, because it will start to turn.

I wish I could believe this. But even as I watch, I see the carnival shutting down, all the workers packing up and going somewhere else, all the kids hurrying out the exit to get ready for school and fall. Fall's here even now. You can smell it in the shadows, feel it in the shrinking days, see it in the already orange-tipped trees, taste it in the freshly picked apples now at farm stands.

Already some local kids have left for college and moving vans are pulling up on Commonwealth Avenue delivering others to our neighborhoods. Already the school buses are rolling, taking kids not to Canobie Lake or Six Flags, but to classrooms where they will sit from now until next June.

Already there's a closing up of parks and beaches and pools and a wrapping up, too, of everything that belongs to summer - beach towels and sunblock and white shoes and games of gin rummy and spit and concerts at the Esplanade and Shakespeare in the Park and picnics at Crane's Castle - all the freedom and lightness that summer brings.

From now on, hot, steamy days will be an annoyance, not an excuse to go to the beach. From now on, hot, airless nights will cut into our much-needed sleep, because what do you know, we're on the clock again. Already our calendars are crowded. Already we have appointments and commitments and places to go and things to do and lists and goals and renewed ambitions. Already our children have sports and lessons and CCD and have to be driven here and picked up there, and need their homework checked and their lunches made and their clothes readied for school.

It's not the Ferris wheel that starts up in September, that gentle, easy ride that carries you to the top of things, then pauses and allows you to look down and see a little bit of the world. It's the merry-go-round, which will spin faster and faster as the summer recedes.

In our minds, we've already got one foot on it. Even today, on this "last" summer weekend, as we eat just one more cheeseburger and hot dog and plate full of potato salad ("I'm definitely starting my diet next week," most of us will say) we're mentally into tomorrow. No more junk food. No more unhealthy barbecues and mindless books and lounging around. No more movies in the middle of the week. No more not setting the alarm. It's time to get on track and on schedule.

The first week of September is like this. It's doesn't hang at the top of the year. It's too busy and crowded with resolution and purpose.

It's physically crowded, too. The department stores are mobbed. There are long lines at Staples and Office Max and at the deli. And there is traffic everywhere because people are back from the Cape and the school buses are back on the roads.

My husband is right in saying that there will be days that will be as warm as August. But it won't feel like August no matter how high the temperature climbs. Because August is gone. The carnival packed up and left town taking the Ferris wheel with it. And that slow easy ride, with its heady view, won't be back until next year.