I have always been intrigued by the notion of seeing the world through the eyes of another person, or even another animal. I know it’s not possible, physically or metaphysically, but sometimes I dream that it is.

“Be Prepared” is the motto of the scouts in America, as it was when I was briefly a scout in England. The motto made no lasting impression on me at the time because my scouting career was so short that I had no time to get prepared for anything. My knots were unorthodox, and my good deeds were not much of a success either.

The sales of recreational vehicles rose dramatically last year, and it’s easy to see why. The recreational vehicle is the apotheosis of America's love affair with comfort, convenience and freedom — a domestic paradise in miniature. Modern RVs come equipped with computerized automatic leveling systems, so that even the wildest campsite can be made as flat as a suburban lot. They are air conditioned, fitted out with refrigerators, microwaves and every convenience of modern life. When RV owners want to get closer to nature, they can watch a wildlife program on public television. Most camp sites offer hook ups, where they can plug into electric power, water, waste disposal, cable TV and dry martini lines. A fully hooked up RV looks like a hospital patient in intensive care.

We never appreciated the freedom to travel when we had it. Now, as we arrive at the end of August, another summer has passed by with no escape. The proud word “escape” was once reserved for absconding convicts or heroic prisoners of war. Now it suggests a whole world of rights and freedoms, and above all the right to travel.

Summer may be many things, but it is rarely quiet. The many machines essential to modern gardening create a continuous background roar, and the inhabitants of suburbia, encouraged by warmth and spooked by COVID, are living and socializing more outdoors. Unfortunately, this al fresco social life often includes background music. Decades of Hollywood movies have done their insidious work. Nobody feels truly alive unless they can hear their music playing.

A United Nations scientific report issued last week told us that a warmer future is inevitable. No surprises there, but an international study from the UN, on top of the infernos we’ve seen out west this summer, seems to demand our attention. I predict a flurry of climate activism out here in the suburbs. When nature turns against us on such a grandiose scale we must pull out all the stops. Air conditioning systems will be upgraded, new swimming pools will be installed and scarce properties in Maine and Vermont will become more desirable than ever. Climate experts have different and more challenging suggestions. But not many of us are willing to make the lifestyle changes that will save the planet from baking like an Idaho potato — such as driving smaller cars, giving up long distance travel and consuming less of everything.

Few things are as deeply-rooted in human nature as the idea of property. One of the first words a child learns is “mine.” Our whole civilization is based on the right to have and hold property. The 18th century philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau argued that property is the source of all our inequalities, disputes and wars. A backyard fence or a national frontier arouse the same possessive feelings. This idea, though obviously wrong, laid the foundation for a whole alternative political tradition — Communism — that rejected the idea of property altogether. You may recall that this turned out to be the most unpopular program in the entire history of politics. We love our property, and our entire legal system is designed to protect it. Even the Communist Chinese are capitalists now, although they pretend not to be.

These strangely unreal Olympic Games are yet another reminder, if we needed one, that with or without the distraction of COVID, this is a failed institution. What might have been (but probably wasn’t) a friendly competition between Greek city states in 775 BC has developed into this monster — too big, too harshly materialistic, too glitzy and far too much about winning and nationalistic pride.

We human beings are credulous creatures at any age. We love to believe in marvels and miracles, and sometimes I think we will believe anything. In fact, the less likely it is, the more we want to believe it. I’m thinking of politics, of course, and the stock market, and the social media and certain TV news programs. The psychological mechanism that allows us to swallow the most implausible rubbish is both simple and ancient. Julius Caesar expressed it succinctly, although in Latin, 2,000 years ago: “Men will gladly believe what they want to believe.” And I’m sure that women have the same talent.

June is National Pest Control Month, but July and August are National Pest Out-of-Control Months, when we live in a state of siege. There are screens on all the doors and windows, plus electronic zappers, citron candles and closets full of chemical sprays. But the bugs love our hospitality so much that nothing will keep them away.