Here we are at the end of August, a time with no holiday or big event circled on the calendar, awkwardly wedged between summer and fall. The Full Corn Moon will grace our skies on Sept. 4, just ahead of the autumnal equinox on Sept. 22.

I am calculating the Harvest Moon to be the October full moon this year; the full moon nearest the autumnal equinox. It should be bright enough to allow for finishing the harvest.

While these final days of August hold little concern in terms of celebrations, most everyone, by now, has had enough of the extreme heat of late summer and are looking toward fall. We spend these last days of summer anxiously watching the Gulf, for we know how storms can launch from its’ warm waters without much notice. I, too, am looking ahead to that first cool snap, “gumbo weather.”

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George Reeves reminded me that “when we were kids” those pleasant little cool snaps would sometimes coincide with the Sugar Cane Festival. I do remember my mom making sure we all had sweaters that fit by late September because there was the chance of cool weather. While sitting atop the Ferris Wheel in City Park trying to decide whether to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl or the Scrambler next, I was glad my mom had planned ahead for “sweater weather,” such a quaint notion and a warm remembrance.

These cool breezes from the north bring with them memories of places from long ago.

Sometimes, while driving around town, I try to imagine how and where things were. I suppose I am searching for those moments more than the actual places, searching for those special people that were the fabric of my childhood.

When I drive past Mount Carmel, I always wish to see the old gym, the one made of wood where everything took place, from elocution to Capping. If I think hard enough I can remember the smell of history there and I can remember the sounds it made; the creaks as we walked up the wooden bleachers, the music from the old upright piano, Mrs. Davis’ very loud and intrusive whistle, and the proud cheers when the Cubs scored. These memories are so comfortable, so “life in slow motion,” when all of our worries seemed so small and so fixable.

When I think of Mount Carmel, I think of the people, people like Sr. Bartholomew — Sr. B. Her personality was so energized and her presence so potent. She taught us how to write, and she taught us about humor and fortitude and doing the right thing. She was revered, but she was fun too. There is a picture of her in one of my yearbooks smiling her special exaggerated smile, wearing her buttoned down the front sweater with the caption “I am beautiful” under it. I suppose when I got this yearbook in 1971, I didn’t think much of that picture; I was more interested in the ones of my classmates. As I look at it in 2009, on her birthday, I realize just how beautiful she really was to all of us.

Happy birthday Sr. B. Thank you for being there, for giving so much of yourself, and for the warm memories of our youth; thank you for being so beautiful!

PAM SHENSKY is the mother of five and a teacher at New Iberia Senior High.