In a couple of hours, summer unofficially begins, so should you take the kids to the mall, or the movies, or to the arcade? You are incorrect! And here's why.
You did what you could during the Virginia summer days to either sit by a pool or on a beach or avoid being outside altogether, and at night you reclined on the porch or in the yard and let whatever small breezes the night could strum up wash over you, cooling your sweat. Otherwise, you were inside all day and all night, cooled and even frozen by the artificial cold air that pumped through every building in town. [...]
In the immortal words of the philosopher Will Smith, "lay back and relax, 'cause this is summertime." It's an excellent point because, with Memorial Day just around the corner, here comes summer.
Summer is the invention of privileged classes in the northern latitudes, a time of traveling and ease. You don't see tropical writers going into paroxysms over summer. Between Cancer and Capricorn, summer isn't that different from the other seasons. And when it is, it's a time of heat, when work becomes particularly sweaty and oppressive and you long for the cooling downpour of the monsoon or "the rains." This is probably true in the southern latitudes, [...]
It's hot out! And this is the unofficial start of summer. Hence our series of essays this week: Here Comes Summer!
My friend Sarah [not her real name!] and I were wandering the streets of Nice, wearing 60-pound backpacks. We needed a place to stay. I hadn't made a reservation. I hadn't thought you needed to make reservations at the kind of cheap youth hostels I'd been planning on staying in. My Lonely Planet guide hadn't mentioned that part, or at least I hadn't paid attention. Let me tell you, should you ever plan on making such a trip, to a vacation destination like Nice in the middle of [...]
In preparation for Memorial Day on Monday-the unofficial beginning of Summer 2010-we asked writers to reflect on the season. We'll be publishing Here Comes Summer all week.
When Henry James first met Oscar Wilde in Boston in 1882, he told Wilde that he was very nostalgic for London.
"Really? You care for places? The world is my home," Wilde replied flamboyantly (and, erroneously, alas, though it was true for just a little while.) Did that ever make Henry James mad! He really ought to have known better, because Wilde was an incorrigible tease. James was all wanting to be We Sophisticates with Wilde, I guess, but Wilde wouldn't, because [...]