There's something about the dog days of summer and the sense of community that it awakens within me. As the days get warmer and warmer, people spend more time outside and more time with their doors and windows open which gives little glimpses into their lives. I can hear what my neighbors are watching on television, what music they're listening to. I can hear the carnival-esque music from the Mexicans' parties at the venue next door wafting up to my little patio. I can hear which ringtones my neighbors have selected to express their personalities. I can hear the musician neighbors down the street playing their jazz when I drive by in the evenings. It makes me think of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and the days when people would move their mattresses out onto the patio to get some relief from the oppressive heat. I think of summers spent back in Michigan at Grandma's house when the neighbor kids and my cousins would come over to play softball or roller hockey in the street. My Mom was telling me that one of her fondest memories of her summers growing up was to lay under my grandmother's huge walnut tree and watch the clouds. Maybe there's something to being poor and finding diversion and pleasure in the most simple things.So often, I feel that I was born into the wrong time.
