It is 94 degrees, and hard to imagine that it will not always be this way. That is the way of the heart of all the seasons. In the depths of winter, we wonder if we will ever be warm again. Then someone will ask what kind of winter we had, and we will say not too bad. Experiencing heat or cold at their zenith is a brainwash for what came before. So it goes with many aspects of living. When we are out of work, we wonder if we will work again, and when we work for some time, we hope for retirement. When we are overwhelmed, we pray for respite, and when we are looking for something to do, we think pleasant thoughts of the days when we were busy. We want a holiday vacation time in another climate and a place we have not seen. Soon we will be ready to go home, where we know the peaceful routine.

Kids see the handwriting on the wall. School starts in August. Was it not June yesterday? There is swimming to be done. There are hikes to take. Neva J loved badminton. She was a badminton aficionado. She loved to strike the birdie. The net was erected from early spring to late fall. She and our neighbor Ivy played daily. Ivy hit the birdie and puffed a Pall Mall cigarette. Ivy was worldwise and did not suffer fools gladly. She cursed like a man and smoked like a man. When she and her husband Bob were together, Ivy did all the talking Bob did all the listening. In the suburbs in the summer in the 60s in almost August, we all spent our waking hours in our backyards. George and Helen, our next-door neighbors, drank copious amounts of beer and barbecued daily. George called me Dr. Brooks. They had thick Chicago accents.

Dad played Jai Ali where you used a long curved wooden scoop to catch or throw a hard ball against a wall. The appearance of Jai Ali was mesmerizing. The ball reached high speeds. It became popular in the middle of the 20th century.

The thoughts of the classroom and the fine desks we had in the 60s became compelling at this point in the Dog Days. The desktop raised, and you could place all of your stuff in the compartment underneath. We even had ink wells, but no longer needed them. Pencils were the writing utensil of choice in those halcyon days. Big Chief notebooks were our paper, and they had big spaces between the ruled surface. A ruler and a bottle of paste were necessities. Writing on the blackboard was part of academic success. Immediately, I found that the classroom was hotter than home. No air conditioners, just big windows. When I looked out of the open windows as the fan blew hot air on me, I recalled fondly playing badminton in the backyard.