When Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote about June for “Carousel” in 1945, it was all about the trees, breeze, meadows, hills, Virginia creepers and morning glories.

In the later verses, they added love to the lyrics, adding some frolicking happiness. Nowhere did they mention waves of company, blackflies, rainy weeks or the dog days with all stifling


In the “Carousel” world, life was a dance party and a songfest. People skipped delightfully out of their homes to greet the summer sun after a long winter. The birds, trees, bees and certainly the sailors anchored offshore, were all ready for love.
Since “Carousel” was filmed in Maine, one might have thought they would have done a little more research. Potholes would have provided some authenticity, as would a few of the extras swatting flies buzzing about their heads. And if a cellphone was heard ringing at the clambake, it would’ve been long lost relatives or friends who had just arrived, unannounced, looking to spend a “few days” on the coast of Maine with you.

“Won’t it be fun,” they ask.

While they exclaim how good it will be to spend time together, your mind does a quick inventory of the fridge, freezer and pantry; and you remember all those things you just stuffed into the guest room closet and realize you don’t even know where the sheets to that bed have gone!

You manage to carry on a conversation with them, while doing the mental inventory, and hear them say they are about an hour away and will see you soon, as they hang up. Yes, this is often how the summer begins in coastal New England towns.

While June is “bustin’ out all over,” you are about to blow a gasket wondering how you can get to the grocery store, find the sheets, clean out a space in the closet and make a meal, all within an hour.

You remember the frozen lasagna in the garage freezer, and you find enough not wilted lettuce and slightly soft tomatoes to make a salad. The sheets are clean and folded, and by removing a few old winter jackets and relocating them, there will be a foot or more of space in the guest room closet.

You remember that they are “from away” and not used to potholes, so they will not actually arrive in an hour; more like 90 minutes, as they will drive more slowly on our roads.

You make a plan for their stay; perhaps a boat ride on the bay, picnic at the state park, a whale watching tour, and of course lobsters and some blueberry pie. Then you catch the weather going across the screen.

Oops! Rain for three of the four days they will be here, and an 80 percent chance on the fourth day. What now? The age differences and abilities lead you in too many directions. Maybe we’ll just wait to see what they want to do.

Oh … the last time they were here, that kind of thinking resulted in a room full of people staring at each other, interspersed with a few becoming irritated and arguing. It really is better to be able to suggest something.

Hmmm …

And then it hits you. On the second day of their visit, you have scheduled the plumber to come and change out the kitchen sink. You called months ago, and this was the first available date. How did this happen? Life was so simple last week. A few appointments, dinner with friends, church on Sunday, and now?

A house full of people, rain, black flies, slightly limp lettuce and no running water for eight hours or more during their visit. I reached the plumber and if I want to have my dripping faucet and chipped sink for another four months, they will reschedule me.

Since June will be followed by much the same in July and August, I really don’t want to wait.

Oops, there’s the doorbell.

In “Carousel” fashion, I will skip to the door with a song on my lips, and all will be well, “Just because it’s June, June, June!”


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