Time to cool off the pace of life

I confess: Summer is my least favorite season.

As a rule, I am fond of what I call "down phenomena." Things that bring me closer to that porch-swing, mint-julep mentality. (What's in a mint julep anyway? Does anyone still drink them?) Anything that makes us humans calm down, slow down, hunker down, simmer down, tone it down, batten down, settle down, or heck, even lay down. It can't be coincidence that there are so many ways to say "chill out."

So, by my own standard, I should love a languid North Carolina summer, right? Humid, sticky, sweltering, with bugs? Yeah, umm ... no.

Still, I can conjure appreciation for the summers of my childhood. While my dad was at work, at least one of us would elicit my mom's caveat to "go somewhere and sit yourself down." This was not concern for our comfort. It was a warning that we were about to cross the line from kids enjoying time off from school to kids getting on their mother's last nerve. We'd quickly make our way out the door.

My favorite part of the day was the hour or two when the heat of the afternoon chased us inside to seek the solace of a fan. I don't know which we craved more: the breeze it generated or its sedative hum. Even the most hyper among us could not resist the call to stillness. That meant television for some, books for me and Marvel comics for my brothers. Then it was back outside to trade candy and catch drops of Popsicle-melt with our tongues before they trickled down our arms.

After dinner it was time for hide-and-seek until the glow of lightning bugs, as we called fireflies, pricking the dusk signaled it was time to go in and get ready for bed.

Summer had that one thing going for it: High temperatures seemed to slow time and insist we do the same. What happened to that groove? When did the lazy days of summer become the crazy days, and then the crazy daze, of summer? How did summer come to be about maintaining the garden of frenzy we sowed seed for in April when, depending on their ages, we registered our kids for summer camps, optional summer school and summer internships? Do kids even chase fireflies these days? Or are they blind to the beckon of a soft yellow glow in the night?

In our hubris, we've come up with Daylight Saving Time (somewhere, there are time gods, and they are not amused). What exactly have we saved? So far, longer days have only made us more "human doing" than "human being," as the saying goes. It's increasingly difficult to buy time for things that really matter.

Summer's not even half over and in just a little while, we'll all be at it again: careening from one must-do to another. Commercials already prime us to take our place at the back-to-school starting gate. We'll barely have time to catch our collective breath before Oct. 31 signals the advent of the race for the New Year. I still think the children's spelling of Halloween, with an "o" instead of an "a," is sheer prescient genius.

Meanwhile, newscasters urge us to "book now" if we are to stand the slightest chance of seeing our far-flung families during the winter travel frenzy. I'm tired just thinking about it.

I don't believe our control-everything hype. In fact, just the opposite feels true. We have ceded more and more control of our time to things outside ourselves. I hope I never get used to perpetual hurry and that I always value the meditative pace of down time. So before it's too late, pass the iced tea. Lightly sweetened -- no lemon. The telephone ringer is off.

My mother is a very bright woman. I'm going to go somewhere and sit myself down.