The calendar page has changed. Again. Just a few pages remain on this year. A few brief weeks of tee-shirt, shorts, and boat shoe weather. Walter Houston is singing in my head. Raspy and bittersweet.
It’s the beginning of baseball’s stretch drive. Our Boston Red Sox are in the mix for the post season. It’s high anxiety time if you’re a die-hard fan. Will the hitters cool off? Will the starters maintain their newly discovered success? Will the bull pen purge those relievers who are serial arsonists?
Pro football is also back. If you belong to Patriots’ Nation, you have to deal with Tom Brady’s four-week suspension. The stiff penalty handed down by the fascist NFL Commissioner who is probably a staunch supporter of Orange Head’s political campaign.
Free Brady! Brady! Brady! Brady, Almighty!
Facebook is full of posts and pictures from parents crying as they send their kids off to school for the first time. There are no posts for drop-outs.
We offer requiems for our fading summer flowers. It’s difficult to watch them as they slowly die.
The late night talk shows are packed with “stars” promoting their new series which sound like old series. I particularly object to reboots of old shows that weren’t particularly good back in their first run.
We’re glutted with new movies, reportedly more serious than the summer blockbusters which for the most part, bombed. How in the wide, wide world of sports could you top lucky Chucky Heston’s “Ben Hur”? And no, I won’t spend money on the reboot of “The Magnificent Seven.” It wouldn’t even pay for my bullets. The old man was right.
Political analysts are dizzy, trying to explain Orange Head’s bizarre and unprecedented campaign for the White House.
Labor Day weekend offers a brief time out for memories about summers past when we were younger and our world a bit more innocent. Think “Moon Glow” and “The Theme from Picnic”. I’m William Holden dancing with Kim Novak. Snapshot memories of faded love affairs.
It’s a brief respite.
Walter Houston is now singing louder in my head — even more bittersweet — about those once lazy days dwindling down to hurricanes, raging fires, floods, mass shootings and Orange Head tirades blurring our collective sanity.
September Song.
These precious days I’ll spend with you…….
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Categories: Autumn, Changing Seasons, Garry Armstrong, Music, New England, Photography
Serendipity Seeking Intelligent Life on Earth 
The Sox should lobby for Oakland to join the AL East… that’d be 19 easy wins for them every year.
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Squirrel, The Sox should pay the transition fee for the A’s. It could be labelled benevolence money just to get everyone out of that stinky stadium.
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Hey, Garry, I hear the Jays are doing quite well this year.
Leslie
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Yes, Leslie, the Jays are doing very well! I’d say they were the team to beat in the Eastern Division.
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Going to be fun to see how this all turns out.
Leslie
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Leslie, I think it’ll be a 3 team race to the finish line. Jays, Red Sox and Orioles. I think 2 of the 3 will wind up in that awful one game wild card playoff. I say awful because one team’s season will be over too quickly. But, you’re right, it’s gonna be very exciting.
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My grandson is a real Jays fan. They’ve been going to some of the games here.
Leslie
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Leslie, I think the Sox will try to sign Encarncion to replace the retiring Big Papi next year. Papi’s last hurrah has been memorable. Even opposing teams and players treat him like a rock star. He’s a fun guy.
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A lot of these guys are stars alright.
Leslie
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Leslie, some of these guys THINK they’re stars with their theatrical gestures and grade school level nicknames ballyhooed by the stupid sports channel jock jabberers.
I absolutely HATE IT when the play-by-play morons describe home run as “He just went yard!”.
I’m going to try and catch as many of Vin Scully’s final broadcasts this month as possible. The Baseball Channel promises they will air as many as possible. The game is secondary when Scully is at the mike. Ironically, he believes the game comes first with minimal theatrics.
Scully is a humble poet and master caller of the game.
I’ve wandered astray and apologize.
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Our grandson is a bit of a master caller himself. It’s quite extraordinary to hear him call out the game ( all this from a little kid).
Leslie
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Leslie, that’s great. Make sure, if possible, he hears a little Vin Scully before the season ends.
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I’ll tell him about it, thanks Garry.
Leslie
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Delightful post. I think I’ll read it over a few more times like a beautiful song. : ). Thank you.
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Thank you for the kind words. Walter Houston is worth a second play.
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What a beautiful tribute to September. We are winding down our sweltering days here in sunny Florida, but we have not brought out the sweaters or jackets just yet. This post; however, so put me in the mood to do that. Lovely writing, Garry.
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Thanks, Lois. I know it’s been a sweltering summer but I so love these days of minimal clothing. Soon, it’ll be time to sing the songs of Autumn.
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elegantly put. I haven’t heard this version in years, and now Ill be hearing it all day. thank you. It makes Sinatra’s version (or anyone else’s) seem artificial and showy.
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Thank you, Judy! I have always loved Walter Houston’s version. I first heard it as a kid on a 78.
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I can’t believe it’s September already…
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Same here, Dral.
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The time flies so fast. Lovely thoughts.
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Thank you. The time does fly. Our Granddaughter celebrates her 20th birthday in a few days. Gee Whiz!
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Wistful and poetical. There is a September mood slowly creeping in on the Northen hemisphere, although we still have our mini heatwave, especially in the afternoon and no sign of falling leaves yet. Even my feline still sleeps outside at night.
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Thank you, Mrs. Swiss. I just went outside to water the summer flowers. Their days are numbered. It’s the first breezy morning we’ve had in a bit.
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