August is my favorite month of the year. It’s my guess that a lot of people don’t necessarily have a favorite month. Season, maybe. Holiday, surely. But, if they do choose to honor one of the twelve pages of the calendar for some reason, they probably do not choose a span of insignificant days. Maybe they choose their birth month or a period that includes some special event. However, for me, it is different. It boils down to the fact that August, more than any other month, fits the emotional bill for having that slightly sad, extremely joyful, magic quintessence:

Melancholy Happiness.

Reviewing my account of the ending sequence of “Planes, Trains & Automobiles” in the last post, I questioned that term I often use to describe what touches my soul the most. It’s an unusual combination, I agree; and, an odd way to pull together two opposite feelings. But, when I really think about it, I feel more from those cheerful moments that include a sliver of sorrow then I do from anything else in life.

Start with the fact that August is part of my favorite season – summer!  But, when comparing the differences between June, July and August, it is, unquestionably, the saddest of the three summer months.  August is the homestretch to the end.  The memories of sand sifting through your toes, breathtaking late evening sunsets, the slight smell of chlorine in the air, drive-in movie concession commercials, the thin layer of ocean salt on your skin, amusement park cheers, the twinkling glow of sparklers, a cold drink at the patio bar, the low din of a locust song, lounging on a blow up raft with your feet in the water, catching lightning bugs, and the cool drips of a Popsicle melting off its stick are all slowing drifting away.  It’s back to school time soon and Halloween decorations are already displayed outside the grocery store.  The glory of the ultimate extended vacation is coming to a close.  Alas, we must soon say goodbye to our days in the sun.  It doesn’t matter how old I get or how many hours I put in at the office during those three months – those memories of summer vacations gone by return in a rush of exhilaration just after the June solstice; and, every year in August, I feel a wave of sorrow knowing it is soon coming to an end.

Besides being the end of each delightful summer, I have also always felt sorry for August.  August has the unfortunate circumstance of being the only month without a holiday (and, of course, I mean the usual calendar worthy ones).  Now, to be fair, April doesn’t always have a holiday either, but since my birthday is in April, I’m set for that month no matter when Easter or Passover falls.  I use to say that I would have to get married in August, just so I would be sure to have something to celebrate every month of the year.  After all, life is too short not to plan ahead for a celebration each month!  Poor August.  It was just left out somehow.  It’s an awesome month of summer fun, but it will always have the distinction of being slighted from any extra special yearly holiday celebration.

Melancholy Happiness.

And, speaking of holiday celebrations.  I love to learn all I can about each and every one.  If I could, I would celebrate everything, no matter the culture or religion behind it.  I don’t think there is a single person that really knows every truth in the world, so I choose to admire anyone in the world that has positive beliefs, whatever they may be.  If your faith brings positivity to your life and the lives of those you touch, I commend it all.  I will be the first Jew to happily respond with a “Merry Christmas to you, too!”  I will also happily wish you a Happy Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Chinese New Year, Cinco de Mayo, or whatever else is an affirmative celebration to you.

Of course, just like the fact that I have a favorite month (and favorite every other category), I have a favorite holiday.  And, it is, indeed, the one that is not only jam packed with heart, optimism and tons of excitement; but, also, in many occasions, a tad tarnished by gloomy undertones.  Christmas.  As much as I adore (and when I say adore, I really mean “am completely smitten, crazy and infatuated with Christmas trees and their glittering lights,” said the Jew with eleven Christmas trees) the sparkling lights, enormous sense of hope and innocent enthusiasm of the season, when December rolls around, I am also reminded of the darker side of the holiday.  The lyrics of one of my grandmother’s songs, always loom close, “somewhere across the snow, hearts may still be lonely; longing for those they love, for those so far away…” or Karen Carpenter singing about being home for Christmas but “only in my dreams.”  Lonely hearts, reminiscent visions and distressed longing.  For some, the holidays are often the saddest time of year; and, I keep that thought very close.

Melancholy Happiness.

And, it’s also no surprise that my top three favorite movies end with a hint of warmhearted sadness.  Let the tears begin.  Home Alone has little Kevin McCallister peering through the window at Old Man Marley who is finally reunited with his estranged son; Love Actually ends with old friends and family members hugging at the arrivals terminal at Heathrow Airport; and, Heaven Can Wait reveals in its final moments (spoiler alert) that Joe won’t ever remember his best friend Max or falling in love with Betty…but maybe, just maybe, Max & Betty will meet up long after the credits roll and confirm to each other, Joe is still in their lives – just in a different body.  Clear pattern here.

Melancholy Happiness.

So what is it that makes these months, holidays, movie scenes and memories in life so special to me?  I think it comes down to this:  Without any sorrow, we would never truly be able to appreciate the other side of the spectrum – joy.  Without the rain, would we really appreciate the sunny days?  Without loss, would we ever grasp how lucky we were to have?

To live life in the gray area without the extremes would be oh so tedious and dull.  I’ll thankfully move down the sadness scale at times; knowing that the only reason I am that sad, is because I have felt the same degree of happiness at some point in life.  No, it’s not joyous to mourn the loss of a loved one or try to heal a severely broken heart.  But, you wouldn’t miss that person at all, if you had not had an amazing amount of love for them in the first place – and, that is more than a blessing.

If it takes those moments of sadness to remind my psyche, now and then, just how special all the positive, wonderful, brilliant moments of my life have been, I will take them.  After all, those moments make up all the magic of living life to the fullest and that, certainly, makes it all worthwhile to me.   #50WeeksTo50