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The Summer Diaries of 2018 ~ Part 3

an·dan·te

adjective & adverb
1. (especially as a direction) in a moderately slow tempo.
noun
2. a movement or composition marked to be played andante.

Origin of andante: 1735- < Italian: literally, walking, present participle of andare to walk, go; etymology disputed, but often alleged: < Vulgar Latin *ambitare, derivative of Latin ambituscircular motion, roundabout journey; perhaps, alternatively, early Latin borrowing < Gaulish *and, akin to Latin pandere to spread (hence, stride); compare passus step, pace (actionnoun *pand-tu-), equivalent to Old Irish footprint, track

TAKE IT EASY WITH ME PLEASE
TOUCH ME GENTLY, LIKE A SUMMER EVENING BREEZE
TAKE YOUR TIME, MAKE IT SLOW
ANDANTE ANDANTE, AND JUST LET THE FEELING GROW…

Andante, Andante indeed. August sped along quicker than I’d like, so I made a determined effort to slow things down. Summer is usually the time when I’ll delve into a literary classic. I still remember the seasons I trudged through ‘David Copperfield’ and ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘Moby Dick’, and after finishing ‘The Summer that Melted Everything‘ and ‘Less’, I started ‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’.

Suzie and I made a semi-annual summer pilgrimage to Chatham for a performance of ‘The Wedding Singer’ at the Mac-Haydn Theatre, and Andy and I went back for their production of ‘Annie’. Following the curving roads rife with full green foliage and waving fields of corn always eases the mind.

One of my favorite summer traditions, our annual BroSox Adventure, typically held in early June when the blush is newly on the rose, got scheduled much later in the season, when the rose is all but off the stem and only the prickly reminders remain. Skip and I made another set of riotous memories, from tracking down a possibly-non-existent serial killer, rummaging through garbage, to eating chicken wings and drinking way too much whiskey and gin. That was just the first day and a half. Right before the game started, the sky opened up and demolished a day of high heat and unbearable humidity with a quick downpour. We’d actually cut a couple of walks short because it was so sticky and oppressive, and we sat at Hojoku nursing a Suntory whiskey cocktail while ‘The Wizard of Oz’ played on a screen behind us (last year it was ‘The Karate Kid’).

As if on cue, the rain stopped right before the game began, and as we took our seats a cool breeze blew into Fenway Park. It whispered thrillingly of fall and closed out the evening in a zone of comfort. An excess of fun, accented with moments of contemplation made for a banner Red Sox weekend, and we continued our run as good luck charms, as they handily beat the Rays 5-2.

On the event of turning 43, I have one thing to say: two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it. Andy and I took a day trip to Manchester, Vermont ~ a favorite childhood haunt, where we enjoyed some shopping and a fine dinner (even if the flies refused to let us eat in peace).

By the end of the month, I’d returned to finishing my current project, slated for a late fall release. I’d taken much of the summer off, but when the nights started cooling down, and I figured out that kerosene was a much better way to burn things up than charcoal lighter fluid, I was back on track. Stay tuned for that explosive release in a couple of months…

MAKE YOUR FINGERS SOFT AND LIGHT
LET YOUR BODY BE THE VELVET OF THE NIGHT
TOUCH MY SOUL, YOU KNOW HOW
ANDANTE ANDANTE, GO SLOWLY WITH ME NOW.

We tend to forget how a flaming September is still mostly summer, throwing away all the post-Labor Day moments when we really should be celebrating the season as long as possible. Our Ogunquit trip was an example of this, as we changed things up by waiting until September to go, which is how it went down that very first visit almost twenty years ago.

Mostly though, with Andy’s health issues and my own advancing age (hello 43!) we kept it relatively quiet this summer, and that was ok. When the world goes to shit, and chaos is the order of the day, the best thing to do is enjoy a quiet summer with the people who mean the most to you.

I’M YOUR MUSIC, I’M YOUR SONG
PLAY ME TIME AND TIME AGAIN, MAKE ME STRONG
MAKE ME SING, MAKE ME SOUND
ANDANTE ANDANTE, TREAD LIGHTLY ON MY GROUND
ANDANTE ANDANTE, OH PLEASE DON’T LET ME DOWN.

On the news, oppression fueled by racism and hatred made daily marks on our lives. Surrounded by non-stop reports of such chaos and cruelty, where children and babies were being locked in cages without human contact, it was difficult to enjoy the sunny season. I thought back to other troubling times in our world’s history when dark forces stole power and fooled great swaths of people, and I remembered the little pockets of light and goodness and humanity that managed to survive, secret and safe and biding their time until the world got better. I want this space to be a refuge of sorts for anyone who needs to escape. I want this to be one of those pockets of warmth and reassurance when the outside world is crumbling and crashing around us. Most of all, I want us to unite here, in the land of frivolity and fun, to escape the troubles and pressures of life, and to find a moment of peace. If the summer was any indication, those moments are becoming fewer and further apart. If we are to make it through the fall and winter, we need a home base ~ a place of love and safety and acceptance. I can’t do it all alone, but I can do my best to make this place pretty and welcoming and witty enough to entertain the most jaded among us. Every once in a while I’ll rely on someone else to add to the party (thank you Skip and Suzie for the future posts you may not even know you are going to write here) and together we’ll make it through the wilderness. Somehow, we’ll make it through.

THERE’S A SHIMMER IN YOUR EYES,
LIKE THE FEELING OF A THOUSAND BUTTERFLIES
PLEASE DON’T TALK, GO ON PLAY
ANDANTE ANDANTE, AND WATCH ME FLOAT AWAY

As for the finals days of a summer that started out with such hope, I was left with a melancholy feeling, haunted by stories of a mother bear hunted down by two men and slaughtered while her bear cubs shrieked in terror, or the orca who kept pushing her dead calf to the surface for days, lost in mourning and drowning in her sorrow, and I wondered at the sadness of life.

A sour note to end the summer and start the fall, perhaps, but it’s a note of truth, and one that will hopefully inspire you to be the best person you can be. God knows I will try. Thanks for coming back to see how it all plays out.

I’M YOUR MUSIC, I’M YOUR SONG
PLAY ME TIME AND TIME AGAIN, MAKE ME STRONG
MAKE ME SING, MAKE ME SOUND
ANDANTE ANDANTE, TREAD LIGHTLY ON MY GROUND
ANDANTE ANDANTE, OH PLEASE DON’T LET ME DOWN.

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