Although all the news from Pittsburgh is about the G-20 economic summit, I wish to pause today in my contrary way and my pay my respects to a dearly departed friend.

As nobody else is available in the depleted newspaper industry to write this obituary, the sad task falls to me.

Give me a second as I assume a grave and formal writing style. As I am a bit out of practice, please imagine the doleful notes of a pipe organ as you read on ...

Summer, a long-time favorite of surfers, baseball players and fat guys in funny aprons who like to grill outdoors, died yesterday at 5:18 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time of a chill associated with autumnal equinox syndrome.

Fall was in attendance at the bedside and immediately took over Summer's weather-related duties when the clock tolled the final seconds. Although Fall's internship with Summer was of necessity brief, the young season of mists and mellow fruitfulness was inconsolable as any close bosom friend of the maturing sun would be in the circumstances.

"Summer knew his end was near when Labor Day came and went and lifeguards left their platforms and traditionally minded people put their white shoes and pants back in their wardrobes," Fall sobbed. He said Summer had seen the writing on the weather map wall.

"Summer has gone to a better place," Fall insisted, amid a fog of tears, "A place where women seeking a tan don't whine because clouds come and spoil their day at the beach, a place where men don't wear Speedo trunks in public with a complete disregard for public decorum."

Summer was born in the eastern United States in the early morning of June 21. Not discouraged by the untimely passing of Spring, and the memory of Old Man Winter with his hair driven snow white with the strain of making cars difficult to start, Summer took up his duties with a youthful enthusiasm.

He was proud of dispatching some spectacular storms, which cheered employees of The Weather Channel and their sky-smitten fans. But the joy of this was short-lived.

Professor Marmot Sinecure, dean of the School of Hot Air at Groundhog University (formerly College) in Punxsutawney, Pa. (Motto: "Where a woodchuck would chuck science if a woodchuck could"), followed Summer's career closely.

"Summer started with high hopes but he did not do as well as some of his recent ancestors. Although some husbands did manage to cover their faces completely in butter and corn at picnic tables, earning reprimands from their wives for their gross eating habits, this summer was not a vintage one."

The American people were distracted, Professor Sinecure argues. "Yes, some Americans were probably distracted only to the extent of slipping on the soap in the outside shower and tumbling naked into the backyard, much to the amusement of the neighbors, but the problem was really the sour temperament of the people."

As a liberal academic proponent of hot air theory, Professor Sinecure believes that too many tea parties gave caffeine poisoning to too many conservative people, making them jumpy and unreasonable. "This was the Summer of our discontent, when the sunshine soldier and the summer patriot shrank from the reality of their country and made up their own reality," he said. "The tragedy of this was that they made no effort to promote quality beach time while attacking the government."

Although the political climate was not Summer's fault, it pained him to become the fall guy for the general malaise.

Reg Henry, a newspaper columnist who has perfected the lizard-like art of absorbing cold beverages through his skin on the hotter days, sees this Summer as a tragic figure and the symbol of a lost opportunity.

"We were too busy this summer arguing with each other to remember that something like Summer is here only for a short time and should be enjoyed to the max. It got to the stage where fat guys in funny aprons were too busy yakking talk-show nonsense at the grill to pay proper attention to the burgers and dogs."

If Summer can't do its job because of the distractions of the political marketplace, Mr. Henry believes, it may have to be taken over by the government, perhaps the National Weather Service. "The great national legacy of going places in the warmer months in order to do nothing -- and spending a lot of money doing it -- must be preserved for our children," Mr. Henry said.

No formal funeral services will be held for Summer, but his legion of admirers are asked to gather on the next sunny day and raise a suitable seasonal beverage to the passing of Summer, who tried to cheer us up the best he could.