June has always been one of my favorite months. I especially get swoony when I get a whiff of wisteria or lilacs. These fragrant clusters of purple blooms scream "It's JUNE !" and transport me to Jefferson Elementary School in Maplewood, New Jersey, where I grew up. At the end of every school year, there was an assembly in the auditorium. Row upon row of hard-wooden mahogany folding seats that made creaky sounds when you opened them to sit down, then snapped closed when you stood up. Once each of the grades -- from kindergarten through sixth -- was in their places, Miss Lorenz, the music teacher , walked to the front of the auditorium. She'd raise her arms like a conductor preparing an orchestra, then ssssh-hhh the restless students. It was the sacred moment to sing the song we'd waited for all year, a snappy tune that marked the end of another school year an d the be g inning of summer. I can't find a recording of it anywhere, but here it is, in a...
Photo by the Author On Sunday, we went to the Bronx Zoo with son, daughter-in-law, and the grands. While taking a shot of the pensive monkey (above), I overheard a mother reprimanding her son, about 4-years-old. His tongue was just about to take a swipe. "Honey, do not lick that ," she said. Photo by the Author "But, why ? " he asked. Would YOU ever be tempted to lick something as foul and funky as a moldy, wooden fence directly under the monkey habitat at the Bronx Zoo? Uh, I don't think so.