August is a Giant

Natalie Babbit, author of “Tuck Everlasting”, once wrote of August that “August hangs at the very top of the summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning... motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”  I appreciate the picture she paints, but the fact that it is a Ferris wheel gives us hope that it will one day turn and move and change.  Here in Austin, August is forever.  August is really more like a giant: a lumbering, crushing, havoc-wreaking giant.

Watch out; he'll chew you up.

Like Jack’s giant, our giant is brought on by our careless prodding.  True that Jack went a little above and beyond by stealing his giant’s goose, but our careless talking brings our August giant to life.  Statements like “It’s been such a mild summer!” start our giant stirring and follow ups like “I don’t know when I have enjoyed summer more!” bring it fully to life.  Within days, our August giant is here, he is tearing up the town and we only have ourselves to blame.

The August giant comes in with booted, heavy steps and while he does not make the earth rattle, he makes it crack and fracture.  The earth groans with the weight of him and cracks appear and grow and fissure along once healthy gardens, open fields and even our front lawns.  These cracks continue to widen as if begging for water, but there is no water.  Our giant uses his shoulders to shrug away any moisture bearing clouds.  A quick upwards twitch of his shoulders takes our slight chances of rain and sends them soaring to the Midwest, the East Coast, and beyond.

This giant takes his dry, calloused, chafed hands and rubs our landscape between them until that which was once green and resplendent, is now brown and brittle and flowerless.   Grass crunches under your feet, leaves atrophy and poke when touched, cicadas come to die on your door and crunch as they are eaten with glee by your really dumb dog.  He has made everything you see brown or yellow or dead and he is still not done.

The August giant’s favorite thing to do is to breathe.  His breath is as hot as the sun. As hot as an oven.  As hot as hell.  He exhales over us and all hope is lost.  He inhales and takes away any chance of a cooling breeze and when he exhales, the air is one hundred degrees or hotter.  His hot breath lies in the air and does not move, it does not stir and it settles over us like an unneeded blanket.  We can no longer move freely, we are trapped under it and we hunker.  We hide from his breath, from his air, from his oppression. 

The giant is not done with us, not yet.  We are dry, we are thirsty, we are hot and uncomfortable and that is when he starts his favorite task: picking.  The giant’s large fingers pick and pick and pick at our nerves until they are frayed.  He unravels them until our thoughts are mean; our words are harsh and are movements are careless.  Watch interactions between parents and children at the grocery store right now, you’ll see this for yourself.  He reaches over the edge of the earth to pull the sun up early and holds it in his hands, high above his head, for longer than the sun wants to stay.  He squeezes every bright ray out and when he finally bores of it, fifteen or sixteen hours later, throws it over his shoulder until the next day.

The August giant is here and he is here to stay.  Even in September, this giant persists.  He might lay off some, or forget a rain cloud or two, but he is still here.  There is no chopping down a bean stalk to slay this giant.  The only that will kill it is the hope, the belief, that one day Autumn will come and push it out.  Autumn will slowly slide in and as she does, she makes no room for the August giant.  She will use her colors, her crisp air and her fragrant breezes to uproot the giant.  He will startle and try to take us back, but Autumn will have a foothold that cannot be shaken and the August giant will stalk away, forlorn and forgotten.  At least until next year when he hears someone say “I can’t get enough of this great weather!”, and makes his way back to settle and crush us once again.

And the Heat Goes On

Do you live south of Ohio?   Has your will to enjoy summer been replaced with hourly thoughts of how much summer sucks?  Does your forecast look like this?

Notice the 10% chance of rain each day? Lies.

Have you opened the door to go outside and then immediately closed it and sat on the couch defeated?  If you answered yes to one or all of these questions, there is a good chance you are suffering from SAD.  This is not the SAD that people get up north when it is gray and snowing and below zero all winter.  This SAD, or Summer Affective Disorder, affects those of us below the Mason-Dixon line.  SAD can affects everyone, old and young alike, with serious consequences so please, read the following warning signs and see if you, or someone you know, might be suffering from SAD.

Adults: have your plans for a well-rounded summer been compromised by the actual length of summer?  Are math workbooks and flashcards gathering dust and you no longer care if your children know their math facts because there are things like calculators they can use instead?  If so, you may be suffering from SAD.  Does the smell of sunscreen make you nauseous?  Or the thought of applying sunscreen to small bodies yet again fill you with unspeakable rage?  Step away from the SPF, take a deep breath and know you are not alone.  When you speak, are you the only one who can hear your voice?  It is because your children are also suffering from SAD and cannot hear anything you say unless it is "Ice Cream!" or "Yes, you can play video games until your eyes fall out."  Do you no longer care if their eyes fall out from watching TV or playing video games?  If yes, you are definitely suffering from SAD.

Kids: has swimming lost its appeal?  Do cannonballs into tepid water no longer bring the joy they once did?  Does the thought of one more outing with your mom and siblings make you want to cry?  If yes, you too are suffering from SAD.  Is your mother mad at you because you stopped listening to anything she had to say back in July?  Can you no longer even pretend to listen?  Do you walk into a room for something she asked you to get, forget what it was and sit down and get involved with something else?  If yes, don't forget to look hurt and maybe even cry a little when she yells at you later.  You are suffering from SAD and she is yelling?  What kind of parent is she?  Work the tears and gain more video time.

SAD sufferers take heart because you are not alone and there is hope for recovery.  Follow these simple steps and see if the symptoms of SAD alleviate:

1.  don't watch the weather until October.  It is going to be 100 every day.  Rain?  No.  Don't count on it and don't believe the 10% chance they put on there.  It is to keep people from killing the weather man.
2.  stop planning "fun" events.  Nothing is fun when the walk to the car gives you heat stroke.  You did fun, you did it well, stop while you are ahead.
3.  Yes, your children are watching too much TV and playing too many video games but you have all the winter months to shoo them outside and make them be kids.  Refuse to feel guilty.
4.  Kids -every now and then break out a board game.  This will make your mom feel like she has done something right and she will reward you with more screen time.
5.  Count the days, or hours, until school starts.  It is close enough now, this will bring you peace.  This goes for kids as well because it will get them away from a crazy mom and siblings.
6.  It is too hot to cook, so don't.  Grill?  Good Lord, no!  Sandwiches, lots and lots of sandwiches.  (If you cut them on the diagonal it looks like you tried.)


SAD is here and it is real, but sufferers, you are not alone!  Take heart in the woman who screams at her children at the grocery store; at least you scream at yours at home.  Look into the eyes of the fatigued parents surrounding you and know you look the same.  Know that you will be found innocent if you happen to kill someone who says "hot enough for ya?" while smiling.  Little by little by little the heat will abate, children will go to school and the oppression of SAD will lift.  You will want to go outside, you will want to engage in the world around you and you may even want to be fun mom again.  May.  Until then, hole up in your air conditioned house and curse. Curse the weatherman, curse the sun and curse the month of August itself.  This will bring you a small amount of peace and give you the will to go forward.  SAD sufferers we shall overcome!!!

Bastard.