The breeze is strong, even windy, the sun bright and the temperature a bit chilly at 67°. August is leaving. Fall is impatient, chomping at the bit.

This has been a week of lasts. We had our last uke concert on the Hyannis green. My last play is tomorrow night. This weekend, Labor Day weekend, is the last gasp of summer. Next week school starts. The traffic will be heavy only on the weekends, and I won’t curse as much. The tour buses have already started to arrive. The nights are chilly, light blanket chilly. It is almost time for long sleeves and fall jackets, but I welcome fall. It is my favorite season.

When I was a kid, once school started, we had little time to play. I only roamed on weekends, usually on my trusty steed, my bike. I remember finding golf balls across the street from the Bear Hill golf course. My mother told me she had had her senior prom at the Bear Hill Golf Club. She had graduated from St. Patrick’s High School. The building still exists but the school closed long ago. For a while the outside still looked the same. It was a bit gaudy with bright yellow paint. It was where the Knights of Columbus met. On the second floor was a large room for events like bridal showers. I remember going to one and having my mother point out where the classrooms used to be. The building now doesn’t resemble at all what I remember. It is white with a decorative door and is the Boston Korean SDA Church. It seems the building has come to a sort of full circle.

I have put some things in safe places. The places are so safe I can’t find the things I put there. I know I have a box with more checks and a check register, but I don’t know where it is. My first hunt for anything is always where I think I would have put it. Nope. I’ve checked drawers where I was surprised by a few things I did find, but checks weren’t among them. I’m going to order more today, and we all know that once that is done, the checks will surface. I have a lazy Susan from the Peterborough Basket Company. I have two cloth inserts. The current one was for July 4th. It is red, white and blue. I can’t change it. I don’t remember where I put the other one. I checked the obvious places. Nope. My mother used to say pray to St. Anthony, the saint of lost things. Sometimes that actually worked. I’m going to give it a try.

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