The first day of summer is one of my favorite holidays I never really celebrate. My win-the-lottery dream is to buy a huge acreage and install on it an outdoor theater on which I can stage an annual production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” once the sun goes down on the longest day of the year.
I still like to mark the day, even if I don’t have any particular revelry planned.
This year, my wife gave me underwear covered with bugs to recognize the importance of June 21. She gets me.
And now I have something to wear when I’m feeling a bit Puckish.