August — 31 days of frizzy hair.
Nothing good ever happens in August. Elvis Presley and
Marilyn Monroe died. We bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Nobody knows what to wear in August. Summer clothes
have become boring or are falling apart. Fall clothes are out,
new and exciting, but it’s too hot to wear them.
Sylvia Plath knew August: “The best of the summer gone, and
the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven times.”
Taylor Swift had heartbreak in August: “August slipped away like
a bottle of wine ’cause you were never mine.”
Even Oliver Wendell Homes knew about August. “The foliage has
been losing its freshness through the month of August, and here
and there a yellow leaf shows itself like the first gray hair amidst
the locks of a beauty who has seen one season too many.”
August is like Covid. You just want it to be over.
T.S. Eliot was nuts when he wrote “April is the cruelest month.”
How could he not know about August? April is spectacular! April
has the most holidays, including April Fool’s Day, Ramadan,
Easter, Passover, National Vitamin C Day, and International
Carrot Day.
August doesn’t even have one holiday. It’s just boring and blah.
April even has the most songs: Patti Smith–April Fool, Prince—
Sometimes it Snows in April, Ella Fitzgerald–April in Paris. And
me singing April Showers like Al Jolson when I’m in the shower.
Sinatra can sing I’ll remember April but I’ll always remember the
August my car broke down.
It was a swelteringly hot August day in 1959 and my car died
on Lexington Avenue and 23rd street. It took four hours for
AAA to come. If Dante needed a 10th Circle in his Inferno, that
day was it.
Lexington Avenue in the 1950s was like August—boring and blah.
Actually, everything in the 1950s was boring and blah. After all,
Bess Truman was the First Lady. I never knew anybody who ever
lived on Lexington Avenue—or would admit it.
Nobody ever sang, “Give My Regards to Lexington Avenue,” or
“I Left My Heart on Lexington Avenue,” or “Start Spreading the
News, I’m Leaving Today for Lexington Avenue.”
But I digress.
Actually, Brooklyn was also boring and blah in the 1950s. Nobody
went to Brooklyn if they lived in Manhattan. Grandmas with soft
big bosoms and big soft laps lived there. They knitted orange and
purple sweaters with leftover wool for their grandkids. They made
chicken soup.
I liked Lexington Avenue a lot more a few years ago whenBloomingdale’s featured the off-Broadway hit from my book Love, Loss, and What I Wore and my drawings in its Lexington Avenue windows. Brooklyn
never did anything for me.
End of digressing.
But lot of famous people were born in August–three Presidents: Lyndon
Johnson, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama. Also. Madonna, Lucille Ball,
Napoleon Bonaparte, Viola Davis, Andy Warhol, Davy Crockett, Michael Kors, Michael Jackson, Count Basie, Leonard Bernstein, the Duchess of Sussex Meghan Markie, Mata Hari, Mae West, and my granddaughter, Olivia—so August couldn’t be all boring and blah.
You’re just a button click away and I’d love to hear from you.
About your world, your family,
your joys and frustrations,
growing up, growing older,
even recipes–
even though I stopped
cooking–by request–years ago.
Goodbye until next time…
Hope your day turns out as well as I hope (but doubt)
mine will,
Gingy (Ilene)
I am anticipating a new book from you: “I Digress!” Your digressions are one of the most charming things about you. August is not a great month for me. My mama and brother died in August. My kids left home for college in August.
One August in NYC for business, I couldn’t catch a cab to get back to my hotel. My assistant and I were trudging up Lexington and HAD to stop in a shoe store to escape the unbearable heat and humidity. Behold! An incredible sale and it turned the whole experience into a positive one.
Love you and your writing too.
Well, maybe I am a little bias towards this blog since my birthday, as you mentioned (I AM HONORED to be in your BLOG, is in August. Honestly, I do not love august since it means the summer is ending. I love LOVE LOSS in the windows, BRAVO BRAVO! Let’s bring that back!! I so agree about the attire for August, its almost been so hot that it seems as if we should not even wear clothes…. I love the Taylor swift quote. I loved this blog, as always, it brought a huge smile to my face. I love you so much and your writings are so unique, authentic, and REAL. I hope you love August since one of your favorite grandkiddos was BORN THEN… LOL. XOOXO <3
I agree – BLAH! It’s SO hot, the grass is burnt, all my flowers are dead. If I was rich, I would leave this boring NJ August and go someplace fabulous – like Tuscany or the French Riviera! For the whole month of August! I think of you and Stan fondly whenever I pass your house – hope to see you soon!
August the good: my nephew’s birthday. We call him 1-800-LUKE because he looks after all our technical (ahem) issues. He’s turning 40 this year, and we’re late 60’s, so… Also good is corn on the cob!
August the awful: August: Osage County, movie with Meryl Streep. I love her as an actress but OMG this movie is depressing.
I like August- especially the 25th. I will be married 65 years on that day to my best friend, someone who I like and love.
Yeah, August is not ‘august.’ We’d usually go on vacation in August, but it’s also the anxiety month, if you’re bound the academic calendar—it’s a constant reminder that summer’s almost over, and time is running out to do all the things on your summer to-do list that never ever get done. I think time is moody, it runs at different speeds depending on what time of the day it is, or what month—August definitely flies…like the way 7:30am to 8:00am equals 9:00 to 9:10 in pm…and it really fly when yoooi’rrree having fun flies when you’re having fun.
Right now August is reminding me that ‘getting together in the summer’ hasn’t happened yet! Miss you my dear.
Another April song: “April Love” sung by Pat Boone. I was 8 years old when the song and the movie were released, and I still love hearing the melody and the lovely words. By the way, another special person was born in April: my wonderful husband, Blake Freeman!
Thanks, Gingy, for the laughs!
XOXO
Linda Freeman
And my grandmother Sarah (! Hi Sarah!) was born on August 18 and my younger son on August 17th.
Thank you for saying April is not the cruelest month. I get enough grief with nicknames foisted upon me (Ape, Monk, Monkey, Gorilla, May, June, Showers to name a few) without that as well.
I don’t get frizzy hair as much, but I still shvitz a lot in August. I never do that in April.
I also lived on Lexington Avenue from birth to 9th grade. I liked the location because I could walk to Bloomies, Korvettes and Woolworth’s. I also found it interesting to watch Jayne Mansfield go into the Tapemeasure boutique across the street from my apartment. She would pose and sashay into the store and always stopped traffic. Her hunky husband, waiting in their pink Caddy convertible was interesting too.
Also across from us was an Italian restaurant where the mob sometimes hung out, and one day, the FBI came to apartment to photograph some of them entering and leaving. The Barricini candy store got robbed like clockwork every Saturday night, so that was pretty boring–too predictable.
I am now a soft, big bosomed grandma who knits baby blankets.
My Dad grew up in Brooklyn on Voorhies so maybe I should move there too!
Thank you all for enlightening me about all the famous people/events that happened in August. Who knew?
I don’t like August either. Wa-a-a-y too hot. But… it is fresh tomato season, and corn, and peaches. So I guess it isn’t all bad. Still… way too hot. I don’t like hot. Amusing post, as usual. And yes, I had to mend the rear end of my summer britches just yesterday. How did you know???
I just went shopping for as much seltzer as my canvass bags could hold. When I started the car, the temperature read 100 degrees. ONE HUNDRED DEGREES!!! (And I never use exclamation points unless I’m warning “Fire!” ) But, I digress. Seltzer in hand and back in front of my computer, I read this month’s blog. Awesome as usual, and I have to say, I loved the Bloomingdale’s window. Now that was very cool. And so are you. I wish I was.
Your words are always wonderful! Don’t stop! You are so creative!
And Robert Redford, Roman Polanski and I were all born on August 18. Maybe I was born the day your car died on Lexington Avenue in 1959.
I always called August the Sunday night of months.
Kisses,
Sarah
Sarah was born in Augusts so Allie and Aaah must like August .
otherwise you are wise…
I love you every month of the year however
Looking back on the Augusts of my Midwestern high school years from this vantage point, they appear to me as the peak of disappointment between what I thought summer would be, how it actually turned out and dreading the new school year fast approaching.
August now gives me the luxury of air conditioning–which no one had in those days–and the freedom to do whatever I want. Now beats then every time.
So excellent, so true! Keep on digressing! Love, Barbara
August – you nailed it! I am your sister in frizz. In humidity, my hair thinks it belongs to Harpo Marx.
In 1959, I got wonderful a kilt and white sweater to wear back to school. I wore it to a late August birthday party and quietly melted into my penny loafers. It was neither my first nor last fashion faux pas.
I hated August in northern NJ but, at the shore, it was a poignant time. School loomed like the apocalypse and I had to leave my summer boyfriend. (One of the few I’d ever had.)
My sister’s birthday is in August. She’d get depressed because none of her friends were around. One year, I gathered up pencils, pens, staplers, scissors and wrapped the goodies for her. I thought it would make her happier. Instead, she cried.
I look forward to your blog each month. I love the Bloomingdale window and every digression. I am now a grandma who knits with a big bosom and soft lap. Perhaps I should move to Brooklyn?
Ilene, And my daughter was born in August. So was my mother.
I love this blog. I love ALL your blogs.
And you….Thank you.
Love, Nancy