Dear Summer

Dear Summer,

I’m just writing to tell you that I am not twelve anymore. I really don’t like it when it’s hot as hell anymore! Playing in the sun until my neck is three shades darker just isn’t my idea of fun. In a little over a month I’ll be 32 and I’m still trying to figure out what men in their 30’s do. I mean aside from going to work to keep the lights on. There’s gotta be more than making buffalo wings and having a few drinks with friends when the fight’s on. Then again, I may enjoy life a little too much from time-to-time and summers at the gig keeps me running ragged. So I’m finding joy in the simple things in life these years, my mission over the next two months is to grow a beard.

Plus, you know folk don’t have the good sense God gave them, breaking the precious summer rules at any opportunity. As I’m writing you this little letter my neighbors are cooking out in the front yard on a Tuesday night at 9pm. I guess they’re using the lightning bugs as candles, but for a house full of Negroes that don’t work all day, dinner should’ve been ready by the time I got in around 5. But that’s too much like the right thing to do and you’re about the exact opposite. It’s almost as if people use you to excuse away all of the mischievous and foolish behavior they can put together. During what other season could it possibly be a good idea to dye your hair kool aid red? Trust me, it never is, the thought of going out to a place where folks have a hint of sophistication never crosses your mind? Grown ass women with Nicki Minaj hair is not a good look! Neither is you fellas that insist on walking down the street with half your ass hanging out and a dusty wife beater on. This is what you make people do Summer.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that the kids only need two weeks off from school, before they resume their studies. Too many bad habits and bad parents for these youngins to absorb for two and a half months. It’s bad enough they can barely read, but a summer of listening to the street corner symphony can really deteriorate the brain cells and set them further back on the evolutionary scale. So after the hot dogs and fireworks on the 4th of July, they need to return to pens, pencils and arithmetic.

I’d also like to give a special shoutout to the single moms who send their kids Down South all summer…and then try to spend time with Teef all summer. In case you haven’t realized, that’s not the way things are going down anymore Summer, I’ve taken a few steps in a different direction. I’ve made a few changes since the height of winter, I’m eating vegetables, drinking less Level and to be honest, I’ve gotten tired of the way things used to be. I’m not interested in a Summer or a Saturday love, I’ve set sights on something more meaningful, but that’s another story, for another time. Everyone should be allowed room to grow right, so I’m just growing into my shoes and walking my walk.

Keep your cookouts and weddings, shootouts and birthday parties all in the same place, I ain’t really trying to be there anymore. I don’t really find smiles in your favorite pastimes the way I used to. Do me a favor, tell those party promoters I’m not going on their midnight boat rides or crab fests, so leave my Facebook inbox be. I remember spending my birthday with my family at Dorney Park, but things have changed and I can barely remember spending time with my family, guess that’s something else I need to work on.

There are people that spend all year waiting for you, that try to fill your 100 days with as much activity as possible, defying logic and reason, as if you’re the only season. Folks have overspent on gym memberships to tone their bodies and you’re the reason. It seems as if everyone’s searching for something to which they believe you have the answers, like the stars align and life magically shapes itself because you’ve arrived. While you may be the catalyst for change, folks fail to realize that the foundation must be shrouded in the preceding and subsequent months for any type of substantive change.

So Summer, I don’t ask you for love or a reprieve, I don’t beg you for vacation or barbeque, I don’t wish for 100 degree days on the beach, I just ask your 24 hours to tick like every other day I live. But, if you find it in your way to allow me to hold hands with someone at sunset once or twice and a few days to breathe easily between the 4th and Labor Day, plus a chance to smile a little more…it will be greatly appreciated.

Yours Truly,


Leave a respond