Summer Wish List 2019
Or How To Keep Your Spirits Somewhat Intact Despite All That Threatens Us
It turns out this summer, like the last two, begins its very slow wane away from the light on this longest day in national darkness. Democracy seems like a dream to me now. But Elizabeth Warren has a plan for basically everything, even selfies, and the umpteenth woman has stepped forward to share a harrowing story about how Donald Trump raped her in a Bergdorf’s dressing room, and although cocked and loaded, we didn’t attack Iran today. I can go on, and if you read this a year or two or four later, you’ll be like, “Oh, that week. Yeah, I remember thinking it couldn’t get worse, but it actually slid from the whole kids don’t need toothbrushes or beds in quote detention.”
ANYHOO. It is my friend Kate’s birthday. Reason to delight!
This year, yet again for reasons that fall under love of country rather than love of family, I am struggling to feel my usual glee about these weeks when the light remains abundant even with so much rain. Birds get going at about 4:30. Air is soft. Peonies are bolting and roses have begun to bloom. The strawberries are here. I have made jam, which I failed to do last summer, because I was so depressed about our country I just couldn’t even. My kids are off on adventures and my husband passed the bar exam, so he’s a lawyer, now. I have been doing a lot locally, including an unexpected deep dive of action (read, holding hope, read, fundraising) on behalf of Hampshire College, my beloved alma mater.
I’d say that there are three themes I’m carrying into this summer:
How can I endure this complete despair, which isn’t really touching me directly, about our country without either losing my mind/hope? And related — should I try or is this a moment when everyone should drop whatever it is we were doing and figure out how to save ourselves collectively? (Photo of me and friends just before summer proper, advocating for the ACA; it was a pretty super day).
(Yes, I’d love to know what you think).
How come, in the midst of this existential crisis of country do I still feel consumed by all my personal shit? Can I maybe move on a bit? If so, how?
If I decide to navigate still living my life as I continue to call and care and donate and raise money and all that stuff, can I allow myself joy?
(I do appreciate since Marie Kondo’s sparked fame, sparking joy, or just joy, is like a new “thing”).
My summer wish list feels silly, perhaps sillier by the year. Nevertheless, I’ll persist (this year), because tradition, and besides, joy, even aspirational:
I have jammed and will continue to keep jamming. It’s a meditative exercise, that’s for darn sure.
I am looking forward to theatre, from PaintBox to Barrington Stage to the National Theatre (I know, right?).
I am also looking forward to some concerts.
I hope to go to the movies, although I have no idea what there is or will be to want to see.
There are comings and goings ahead: year two at Farm and Wilderness for Saskia, the return of our not really prodigal son from a long semester abroad at Wits University in South Africa, and more. We are all going to spend a little time in Portland, Maine together, and I am really, truly looking forward to that. (Does it help that Portland has a Pure Barre? Why yes, it sure does).
Although this day makes me mourn the days getting shorter, the truth is the days are long for a long while and I love this stretch so much (May through July) for this reason (and the flowers).
I’m writing a lot and I’m reading more consistently — and both these things feel good.
I’m listening to podcasts, essentially continually, which also feels good.
Doing what feels good, including work, is a summer wish. Adding, Pure Barre. Adding because it’s related, making time for friends and family, including my dear hubs, esquire.
And friends, that’s kind of it. Except, impeach he who requires at least impeachment. Duh.
