I was in the store the other day wearing shorts and flipflops, and I was shocked to see a display of Halloween themed items. Halloween in August? Something doesn't feel right about this. Kids, who haven't even gone back to school yet, are going to get unnecessarily excited about a holiday that is two months away.
I texted a few people about it. The reactions ranged from "What's the big deal?" to "What the hell is that about?" No one really felt offended or anything like that, and neither do I; however, something doesn't feel right about it.
One person got back to me and explained that it has to do with Christmas. I asked for an explanation, and she basically said that they are pushing Christmas earlier and earlier every year, so the idea is to push back all the other holidays too. Right, I've got it.
So, I'm thinking that means let's celebrate Labor Day in July, Halloween in August, Fourth of July in May, and Easter in February. This would, of course, push Valentine's Day into January, but who really cares at this point?
I love holidays, but I want them the old fashioned way. I want firecrackers going off on a hot summer night; I want my kids trick or treating on a chilly autumn evening with leaves falling off the trees, and I want snowflakes coming down as we await Santa on Christmas Eve. This is the way it should be, but the powers at be aren't concerned with my or your feelings.
Of course, this has been going on for years. I have even written about how the so-called "holidays" have been corrupted. The "holidays" refer to the period from October 1st - December 31st that is referred to as HalloThanksMas. I have even seen Halloween decorations on houses in early September in recent years. This boggles my mind and lessens the joy of individual holiday celebrations.
So, for now, I will overlook the Halloween displays in the stores, but if I hear Christmas songs in the mall before the kids get their costumes for Halloween, I think I'm going to write a strongly worded letter to Santa. If anyone can do something about this, I believe it's the Jolly Old Elf.
While I don't remember saying it, my mother told me that I did. We had a calendar in the kitchen, and Mom would cross off the days each morning. I came into the kitchen as she was doing it and saw that there were only a few days left in the month. She told me I said, "Mom, we're running out of August!" She said that she laughed when I said it and that I started to cry.
The End of August Still Hurts
All these years later, I know my own kids are worried about August ending. Kids all over the country are trying to get the most out of these final days, and it is like Labor Day is – as one of my friends once said – the "Absolutely the worst holiday ever!"
When I was a kid, I felt empowered as school ended in June and my parents took us to our beach house on the Rockaway Peninsula where there were sun kissed sands and a beautiful clean ocean. We had friends there – we called them our "summer friends" – to differentiate between our city friends and school friends.
Beach Fun and Games
As I went down to the beach and played slap ball (you make bases in the sand and hit the ball with your hand) at low tide. My Mom would sit there talking to other moms, and any time I needed a drink or wanted lunch she was there with a smile.
After swimming, I recall standing in the surf with a towel wrapped around me staring out at boats on the water. It was the end of June, and I had a whole summer ahead of me. There was nothing like the feeling I had – I was on top of the world and school was but a distant memory. I was free, free, free!
Ah, the dream of an endless summer! On rainy days I would sit on my covered front porch and read for fun – there's nothing like reading a book for fun rather than for a school assignment. Sometimes I would go to my friends' houses and we'd play Monopoly or Risk for hours on those inclement weather days.
Holding on to Summer
But, as for all kids and former kids, I would mourn the day when Mom turned the calendar to August. I would stand there and see 31 days left, feeling confidant that I still had time, but when Mom started crossing out the days, I would get sick to my stomach each time.
I remember getting the TV Guide in the mail, and it would be a big special issue with all the new fall TV shows and returning shows. I remember sitting on the porch looking at it and thinking, well this is something good about September. Then I would think about watching Jets games and hoping the Mets would be in the playoffs, and maybe things would be okay.
Now, as an adult, I don't get TV Guide anymore but do look forward to Jets games, and I'm hoping this year that the Mets find their way and get into the playoffs. My kids are grumbling about going back to school, and I'm going back to work too. Reality rears its truly ugly head, and we have no choice but to look at it.
Enjoy These Final Days
So, wherever you are, enjoy these last few days of August. Jump in the pool, go to the beach, barbecue some hot dogs and hamburgers, and sit on your favorite lounge and read a book. Yeah, we're running out of August like this year and every year before it.
Goodbye, eighth month of 2025. I really do hate to see you go! Take a listen to the Beach Boys' Endless Summer album. I can listen to it in January, and it takes me right to the surf and sand. Enjoy!
Have you
ever asked yourself this question: Is honesty really the best policy? Ben
Franklin said that it was, and old Ben is someone I respect, but I was watching a video that features British comedian and writer Athena Kugblenu, and she discusses “The
Fine Art of Fibbing” in a rather humorous way. It really got me thinking
because the idea that lying is socially acceptable seems a bit odd to me.
George and
the Cherry Tree
Unlike
George Washington, who supposedly said, “I cannot tell a lie,” when his father
asked him about cutting a cherry tree, we have all told lies big and small.
When we were kids, we learned about “white lies” that were supposedly okay to
tell. If I knocked over the flowerpot and my mother yelled at me, I would say, “The
dog did it.” That was a so-called white lie. Thankfully, unlike little Pinocchio,
we didn’t have a nose that would grow when we lied and give ourselves away.
White
Lies?
White lies
were rather inconsequential. If I broke a glass in the sink, I could be spared
if I started to cry and say, “It slipped out of my hand,” when in truth I had
knocked it over carelessly when I went to wash my hands.
So, we
have all told white lies. “The dog ate my homework” was an often-used lie told
to teachers, but my teachers – stern, habited nuns – weren’t buying it. Either
way I was punished, so that white lie had consequences.
Truth or Consequences
As I got older and started working in an after-school job, white lies wouldn’t cut it. If I
was late and blamed the bus for not being on time, it didn’t matter. My pay was still docked. If I
dented my father’s car and said that I didn’t do it, I could count on getting driving
privileges taken away for a while. What worked for me as a kid no longer worked
because there were always consequences involved.
In the
adult world we can lie to the boss about why a report isn’t done on time, but
that won’t make things any better. Coming home from work late, we can say that
the boss insisted we stay for overtime when we really stopped in the bar for a
few drinks with our coworkers. Our partners might believe us until they smell
the whiskey on our breaths, and then the crap will hit the fan.
Parenting
White Lies
Athena Klugbenu
In Athena’s
video she gave a good example of a parenting white lie. Her kids always don’t
want to brush their teeth, so she warns them if they do not brush them that she will throw
their iPads in the garbage. Of course, she has no intention of doing this, but
it gets them to brush their teeth every time because they don’t know that.
As a
parent, I have used many threats – some of which I cannot believe I used – but had
no intent on carrying them out. One of the best was “If you don’t do (blank), I’m
not mailing your letter to Santa.” It worked every time!
Awkward
Fib Situations
If I go to
work on Monday morning, and my boss comes in wearing a new toupee, I can be
diplomatic or I can be honest. If I tell him, “Gee, you look great,” what harm
will that do? If I say, “It looks like you have a gerbil on your head,” I could
be looking for new job before lunchtime.
We have
all faced situations like this. I remember a funny Seinfeld episode where the
group went to a beach house and were asked to come in and see the new baby.
From Jerry and the rest of the gang’s reaction, we know the baby must have looked like
an ogre, and it is funny because they cannot say that.
When You
Cannot Lie
So, you
might ask, when does lying or fibbing or whatever you want to call it reach a
point of being unacceptable? The answer is simple – your untruth cannot be told
if it seriously damages a person or a business. This is where we must draw a
red line.
One
example of this is when your best friend tells you that he is going to ask his
girlfriend (let’s call her Jill) to marry him. Now, you didn’t want to tell him
what you know – you saw Jill out in a club with another guy, she slept with one
of their friends, and so on – but now you don’t want him to ruin his life. Of
course, telling him what you know and kept from him might just ruin your
friendship, but you’re trying to save the guy.
Lying
about someone’s clothing may seem inconsequential, but let’s say that
they are going to a job interview later that day; it is probably best not to
fib and tell them the truth. This will give them a chance to either reschedule
or go home and change their clothes before they sit down with the hiring manager.
They can be mad at you because you hurt their feelings, but if they get the job,
they will probably rethink their anger.
To Fib or
Not to Fib?
As a
writer and editor, I have read many essays and stories over the years. If it
something personal – like a diary or journal – I might be tempted to gloss over
issues that do not matter to the person because nothing is at stake. However,
if that person is looking to publish that book or submit an essay for a grade
in school, fibbing time is over. I must be truthful with the person, and I’ll
even offer my help if they want it.
In the
end, we all know we cannot lie all the time. If someone invites you to a party
on Saturday night, and you tell them that you have other plans and stay home
and watch Netflix, you can do that once. If you continue to do that, you are
probably going to lose that person. Maybe you do not care, but maybe you should
if the person means anything to you.
Pinocchio
or Ben?
So, is
honesty still the best policy? In the best of all worlds, no one would ever
have to tell a lie – white or otherwise. However, fibbing has its place in
situations where you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings unnecessarily. The
bottom line is that if the lie is going to harm anyone or destroy someone’s
livelihood, then honesty is the only way to go. While we can all be Pinocchio occasionally,
lets strive to be more like honest Ben Franklin as much as we can.
An Edgar Allan Poe cartoon is haunting me. Sent in an email by a good old friend who happens to be a fine writer, I know the cartoon was sent with good humor. I guess some people - perhaps many people - will take it as a joke. I understand that, yet I take it as something else entirely.
The cartoon is related to Poe's famous and wonderful poem "The Raven," which even people with no clue about literature have probably heard about. This could be indirectly by those fans of the Netflix series Wednesday, which is a reboot of the popular 1960's TV show The Addams Family. The academy in the school is called Nevermore, and even if you do not watch that show you are probably familiar with the line "Quoth the Raven Nevermore" from the poem because it is part of popular culture as much as "To be, or not to be" is from Shakespeare.
I guess in my own version of "a midnight dreary," I am taking the cartoon for much more than it is. The poem for me is about the slow, tedious, and frightening torture of a man by a seemingly sadistic bird. He is mourning his "lost Lenore." This is not a laughing matter, and I should know because I have lost people I love, and luckily never had a raven tapping on my chamber door.
I read the poem over again to see if I was resisting the humor of the cartoon without merit; however, after reading the poem again I sat quietly and realized that there is indeed nothing to laugh about. I can somberly admire the poet for his depth and vision. I can feel the anguish that he feels, but none of the words brought a smile to my face.
I got up, went out and took a walk, and then came back to my own chamber where a bust of William Shakespeare stares back at me from the shelf adjacent to my writing desk. I usually glance at old Will when I'm writing and hit a rough spot or need a little inspiration, and I recall that he wrote all of his works with a pen that he dipped in an inkwell. It should seem to me that I have it easy writing on a laptop, but peaks and valleys in my writing still exist.
I stared at the picture again and read the poem over again, with an occasional glance at my bust of old Will. In the poem the bust that the Raven perches on is Pallas Athena – Goddess of Wisdom. Eddie didn't randomly pick that bust. He was contrasting the author's grief which is understandable but purely emotional, while the bust represents moving on from grief in order for it not to defeat you.
I get it now – the cartoon features the expression on Edgar's face showing his displeasure in the bird's intrusion on his grief. The bird in the cartoon says that Edgar can "quoth me on that." We accept that the bird is talking in the poem, so why not take it one step further. Is the bird trying to convince him to move on or not?
Maybe Edgar doesn't want to get over it, and perhaps the Raven drives him to go deeper into grief. The whole point is the bird goes from muse to tormentor, reminding him that he will sink deeper and deeper into the abyss. If we look again at the ending of the poem, we know the truth as well:
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
The ending of the poem reflects the downward spiral of the rest of Poe's life after the publication of the poem in January 1845. His loss of parents, stepparents, and lovers is well knows. We may never know how Poe ended up being found on a Baltimore sidewalk in poor condition. He was taken to Washington College Hospital. On October 7, 1849, his reported last words were "Lord, help my poor soul."
So, okay, I'm okay with cartoon now, but I still find it somewhat less than funny. I will try to get over this now, but to add self inflicted salt to my wounds, I have printed out a copy of the cartoon and pinned it on the wall next to old Will's bust, where I think I will keep it for a long time or perhaps forevermore!
This is the last week to get a chance to win a free copy of my new novel, Life and Death in Venice, in a Goodreads Giveaway. From today until August 15, 2025, you can get into the running for afree copy of my book.
Book Summary
Life and Death in Venice is the story of New Yorker Robert "Bobby" Valenti who moves to Venice to start over after divorcing his wife and the death of his mother. In the magical city he navigates the streets and yearns to get to know the place on an intimate level while wanting to forget a past that he is trying to escape. He joins a writers' group where he makes friends and hopes to enhance his goal of writing a novel. Bobby starts seeing Mireille, a beautiful French girl who is a group member, but she has many personal dramas that cause their relationship to be on and off again. After he meets Elena in a bar, he takes her home and learns that she is a prostitute who has an abusive pimp, so he reluctantly pays her. He continues seeing Elena even after Mireille comes back from a long trip to Paris, creating an unusual love triangle. As he attempts to write his book and hopes to find some peace and happiness in Venice, many obstacles are standing in his way.
The summer reading season is here, so what would be better than reading a book about exotic Venice that you got for free?
There are those moments in time where there is a confluence of greatness and humility. Such is the case of The Beatles, who were four lads from Liverpool, England, who went out and conquered the world. Most everyone, even younger people, have heard of the Beatles and know something about them, but many do not know about their humble beginnings.
These videos will give you some idea about how they started out and got their first contract, the way they were still perceived by Mick Jagger (in 1988), and Mick is someone who knows something about fame and performing and rock and roll. Mick's gratitude for The Beatles' help early in his career is wonderful to hear.
So sit back and enjoy these videos. It is also a bonus to hear Yoko Ono speak on John's behalf and to also hear from John's young sons Julian and Sean. The Beatles certainly deserved this honor, and it just is painful to remember the reason why John Lennon is not there to accept the award.
My new novel, Life and Death in Venice, is now in a Goodreads Giveaway. During the period of August 1st, 2025, through August 15, 2025, you can get into the running for a free copy of my book.
Book Summary
Life and Death in Venice is the story of New Yorker Robert "Bobby" Valenti who moves to Venice to start over after divorcing his wife and the death of his mother. In the magical city he navigates the streets and yearns to get to know the place on an intimate level while wanting to forget a past that he is trying to escape. He joins a writers' group where he makes friends and hopes to enhance his goal of writing a novel. Bobby starts seeing Mireille, a beautiful French girl who is a group member, but she has many personal dramas that cause their relationship to be on and off again. After he meets Elena in a bar, he takes her home and learns that she is a prostitute who has an abusive pimp, so he reluctantly pays her. He continues seeing Elena even after Mireille comes back from a long trip to Paris, creating an unusual love triangle. As he attempts to write his book and hopes to find some peace and happiness in Venice, many obstacles are standing in his way.
The summer reading season is here, so what would be better than reading a book about exotic Venice that you got for free?
