Let me repeat that: It’s only July 16.
And yet, if you listen closely—on patios, in lineups, even from your friend grumbling, you’d think we’re already packing away the sunscreen and hauling out the flannel. Apparently, summer is “half over.” Or worse, basically done. Why? Because the MLB All-Star Game just happened. Because the Canadian National Exhibition ads are starting to pop up. Because a few big-box stores got a little too eager and swapped their patio furniture for backpacks and lunch bags. And that somehow signals the end.
Uh, no. Summer technically didn’t even start until around June 21. So if we’re going by the actual calendar—and not the overzealous marketing machine that insists it’s pumpkin spice season the minute someone sneezes in August, then we’re barely four weeks in. But here in the Great North of both Canada and the United States, we do this every year. We survive months of slush and salt-stained boots, of windshield scraping and vitamin D deprivation. We dream about summer as if it were a golden promised land. And then when it finally arrives? We complain about how hot it is. And by mid-July, we’re already bracing for its departure.
It’s like watching someone win the lottery and then sigh about how to invest it. I get it—daylight is slowly slipping away. The sun’s now rising a bit later and setting a bit earlier every day. But let’s not get carried away. There’s plenty of summer left. Whole weeks of patio beers, lakeside evenings, grill smoke in the air, and yes, sticky thighs on vinyl car seats. Yet people act like it’s all over once the All-Star Game wraps and the back-to-school flyers start circulating. It’s like there’s some mental switch: “Well, better start winding down; summer’s clocking out early this year.”
Can we not? The real tragedy is that this mindset robs us of our summers. We fast-forward through something we’re still living. Mid-July becomes late August in our heads. We say things like, “We should go to the beach soon before it’s too late,” as if the sand will be rolled up and put in storage on August 1st. Here’s the truth: There is no countdown.
Summer doesn’t have an eject button. It doesn’t suddenly vanish after the August long weekend. You don’t wake up one day to frost on your car and regret in your soul (Okay, that actually does happen, but not for another three months or more). We’ve got six weeks until Labor Day. You can still go to the lake, host a barbecue, grab ice cream and let it melt down your hand. You can still swim, sweat, and sit in traffic with your windows down and your music too loud. You can still wear flip-flops and forget the sunblock and pay the price. It’s all still there. Don’t let marketing trick you into thinking you missed it. And don’t let your own internal calendar rob you of what’s right in front of you.
So the next time someone says, “Can you believe summer’s almost over?”—remind them we’re not even into the second act. The heat waves haven’t hit their full stride. The late August sunsets are still coming. And we haven’t even gotten to that perfect week where the nights cool off just enough for a hoodie and shorts combo. We’ve got time. And if you don’t use it, that’s on you. Because in the end, summer doesn’t slip away. We just let it.
John Berkovich Talks 