September Mourning

 

"But now in September the garden has cooled, and with it my possessiveness.  The sun warms my back instead of beating on my head ... The harvest has dwindled, and I have grown apart from the intense midsummer relationship that brought it on."
-  Robert Finch 

"'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone."
-   Thomas Moore, The Last Rose of Summer, 1830

LEWISTON — We have only so many summers to spend with our son before he sets out on his own, leaving us with hundreds of pictures and dozens of home-made movies of our moments with him.

Time does this to all parents, and it explains why September gets a bad rap from me.

I can smell September at the end of every August. 

It is like a damn prowler lurking in the shrubs, and I am the one who gets mugged every fall.

September's distinct odor emanates from grass covered in a dewy glaze and drifts through the cool nights as the days grow shorter.

If you can't detect September's cruel presence during August's last gasp, then you are suffering from allergies or are oblivious to the world.

September acts as a sign post for autumn — a season that quietly shoves summer aside and subtly prepares us for Old Man Winter's arrival.

September is deceptive and messes with our minds with Indian summers and cool nights. It tries to persuade us to let go of summer and move on to winter.

I am never sold!

I have always dreaded September's entrance. My abhorrence for the ninth month of our calendar began as a child, who spent most of his youth at Revere Beach during long, hot summers.

September's appearance meant summer was about to get the heave-ho, and its arrival added up to fewer trips to the beach thanks to the opening of another school year. 

Every time September tapped me on the shoulder to remind me summer was finished, my siblings grew older, and we would eventually be dispersed throughout the world. No longer would all four of us be together on those sandy shores, eating pizza in the boiling sun. 

It was September's fault and its appearance always made me depressed. Oh sure, I got over summer's abrupt end by November, but it doesn't make it any easier each August.

But if it means I have to suffer through another September to spend another glorious summer with my son and wife, then I will withstand the pain of a heavy heart and be grateful there is a May, June, July and August.

My dislike for the month grew during long high school football practices in August's stifling heat. September's repugnant odor was at its strongest on the practice field, and after running wind sprints for 20 minutes, all I could think about was a dip in the cold ocean — and of course, girls.

And now I lament as another summer passes and my son is a year older and an inch taller. But I am fortunate he still makes time for his mom and dad and enjoys trips to the ocean with both us. He is a low-maintenance young man with high aspirations, and there is not a day I am not proud of him.

Then September comes along and spoils our fun in the sun.

My wife and son are back at school and the house suddenly becomes empty. Not good for a guy suffering from mood swings at the hands of September.

For the last 19 years, the L-A Balloon festival has become another one of September's  reminders that summer is on the way out. We have watched the launches nearly every year at Railroad park in Lewiston. The three-day event is worth getting up at 5 a.m., especially when about two dozen balloons of all sizes and colors are launched into the sky.

It is a sight to behold as these unique balloons disappear into the heavens — along with another wonderful summer and all its splendid moments.

Taking the chill out of Autumn

The Great Falls Balloon Festival - a sight to behold

The Sea Dogs at Hadlock Field in Portland

AUBURN, Maine — Winter's emissary, Autumn, announced itself when it blew into town with its frosty air and brisk temperatures on a bright Friday morning. Trees swayed in 40-mile-per-hour cold winds, which swept away three days of stifling humidity.

I closed all the windows to seal in the heat and ignored the thermostat. Flipping on the furnace is a no-no in September because the sun heats our house to 75 degrees on cool days. And thanks to price-gouging oil companies, I won't consider burning oil until October. Call me cheap or a concerned environmentalist who has been forced to conserve fuel thanks to overpaid CEOs and greedy speculators. I have my trusty wood stove on standby and all my wood is stacked, cut and ready to burn when Old Man Winter engulfs New England in an icy embrace for the next five months.

But I do have a treasure trove of warm memories of a summer to take chill out this family's bones. Pictures of the Great Falls Balloon Festival and our trip to watch the Portland Sea Dogs play baseball at Hadlock Field in Portland will make winter bearable.

Away all balloons

For the past 19 years, the Twin Cities have hosted a balloon festival in late August. The weekend event draws thousands of spectators from all over and is a sight to behold when, if the steamy weather cooperates, dozens of giant balloons crowd the skies during the six launches. The early-morning flights are the best. The weather is cool and the threat of thunderstorms is minimal, guaranteeing an eye-opening launch on a bright summer morning.

My son took our camera and raced around the streets of Lewiston and Auburn on a Saturday morning, snapping nearly 80 photos, which were included in a slide show. Some people go for the entertainment, the shopping booths and fast food, but for me, the unique balloons lifting off with apprehensive passengers is worth jumping out bed at 5:30 in the morning.

Sometimes, if we are not up for a morning launch, balloons will drift by our home and a blast fire from their loud propane burners will wake us. I will run to the door and watch the low-flying airships hover over us. From what I have been told, if they are forced to land in your yard, they will present the homeowner with a bottle of champagne for an unscheduled landing.

But what really makes these large balloons so unique is their sizes and shapes. The behemoths can make the sun disappear as they drift over head.

Evening launches draw larger crowds at Railroad Park, but when there is a threat of thunder, balloon pilots will stand down and not risk putting their passengers in harm's way.

Going to the Dogs

Can't afford a $300 day at Fenway Park? Apprehensive about taking your life into your own hands when driving around Boston? Scared of getting mugged when taking the "T" to Fenway? Paying for watered-down beer at $10 a pop astound you? Worried that 

the guy next you will light up a three-foot stogie and smother you in cloud of a second-hand smoke?

Save money, time and avoid Boston's insanity and visit Hadlock Field in Portland to checkout the Sea Dogs. This is great entertainment at an affordable price without playing bumper cars with Massachusetts drivers. Parking is a jaw-dropping $5 to watch the Double-A players man a diamond. 

Look, competing with Friendly Fenway on any level is a lesson in futility. And Boston's glamour is a tough act to follow even though I think Portland is a great little city with so much to do without going broke.

I confess I am a Mass Hole who grew up 10 miles from Fenway's finest. When you attend a game at Fenway, it  feels like you have entered another country. This is one of the few old parks left in Major League Baseball where you don't feel like you are watching a team from the cliffs of the Grand Canyon. There's an intimacy about the park, but I also get that feeling from Hadlock Field. I enjoy the Dogs' sideshows in between innings and their numerous raffles. It really feels like the old days when the pros did the same thing for fans.

But making it a day at Fenway Park means taking out a small loan at the bank. Parking is $25 and ticket prices can make a grown baseball fan cry, and then there is the cost of food and drink. Throw in gas money for the long commute and you really got yourself a ball game for the price of about $300 for a father and son who love America's pastime.

Attending a Sea Dogs game won't blast a hole in your bank account. Ticket prices are reasonable and so isn't the food and drink. Sure, it's Double-A ball and Hadlock isn't Fenway and Portland can't compete with Boston, but who really cares when it comes to watching baseball. And there is a replica of the Green Monster at Hadlock, which isn't so astounding because the Dogs are a minor league affiliate of the Boston Red Sox.

But if you have $60 in your wallet and your son or daughter wants to watch a baseball game at a cozy park, then you have just enough cash to hit one out of the park at Hadlock Field.

So take them all out to the ball game without going broke.

Fenway Park can wait.