Well, it’s not officially the last weekend of the summer but it might as well be.

If you were one of my boomer friends who grew up in the Bronx and attended Blessed Sacrament School, you can almost smell the stale aroma that permeated our classrooms on that first Tuesday after Labor Day.

The hatefule jingle of the Robert Hall ad reminding us in the beginning of August that school bells would soon be ringing had already lost its sting as our parents had taken over preparing us for the return to school.

Although we had a good idea as to whom our new teacher would be, we never. were quite sure and had no idea at all as to how she (it wouldn’t be until high school until we had male teachers) would be to deal with on a daily basis. I have to say that I was always pretty lucky in that regard, despite having a break in period before we each appreciated the other’s humor.

Eighth grade was a different story all together and I have written about that experience in A Bronx Boy’s Tale. But even 62 years later the special nature of that experience still resonates with me as well as the friends and classmates who shared it with me.

I prefer to think of those times today as whether it was a factor of age or naivety, those years seemed happier and less dangerous. Even after the Kennedy Assassination we were able to mourn without despairing.

Then the Beatles came to (I Want) To Hold Your Hand and suddenly we could smile and sing.

This weekend many of us may continue that tradition with friends over a barbecue as we anticipate a beautiful autumn season.

The wheel turns; we get older; we live to laugh and bring joy to others.

Don’t watch the news; don’t read the paper; play music and eat a hot dog.

Have a great weekend and I will write again soon.