Yikes! I was so peeved yesterday that I completely forgot to add this postlude to the column. But with Sunday being the last official day we can wear white, per Don Henley, let’s sing it together:
Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
The summer’s out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets
The sun goes down alone
Though with those ever encroaching climate change effects, summer may not be out of reach quite yet.
If you plan on having a little adult fun on Sunday night or Monday, please remember the gendarmes will be out in force with the specific purpose of pursuing impaired motorists. That’s why a designated driver is always an excellent idea.
But none of that is nearly as momentous as the fact that I turn 66 on Sunday, which means you have plenty of time to come up with a really expensive present. Between my family history and penchant for telling the truth, had you previously predicted I’d make it this far I might’ve laughed, but here I am. And if you’re as young as you feel, then I’m no more than 35.
Of course, the three-day weekend means no new column on Tuesday, but fear not, Dear Reader! If it makes sense to pluck one chapter out of the Unabom book, my plan is to post that, instead. Failing that, we’ll fall back on a passage from The Curmudgeon book.
Though I’ve never been one to overly pontificate on basic truths, let’s take some time to remember that it’s our tireless workers who’ve propelled this country forward beyond all others. Without the labor movement we wouldn’t be enjoying two- and three-day weekends, either.
So, have fun with this final summer fling, be safe, and enjoy the warm weather while it lasts. Any lifelong Chicagoan knows what awaits us!
