Remembering and Otherwise Occupying My Mind

The day before Labor Day, two days after Tropical Storm Hermine blew through, and about as perfect a September day as you could ask for. Low humidity, good air quality...I'm going for a walk!

I like this neighborhood. The houses aren't fancy, but the trees are large and plentiful. I'd be happy to live in a shanty, as long as I could have one perfect tree in my front yard and a window to look out all day long. And maybe someone like My Awesome Husband Greg to keep the window clean for me.

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That family in their driveway with kayaks strapped to the top of their car--the little boy is so excited, he can't keep from jumping on his invisible pogo stick. They must be headed to the lake to enjoy summer's last official weekend. The sound of their car door slamming just took me back...

I remember when Mom and Dad bought the place on Elk Lake. Now that was a shanty. Really, just a shell of a house. No interior walls or insulation; nothing that would make it appealing in the winter (unless you wanted to sneak in through a window and snuggle with your boyfriend for a while), but perfect for a Michigan summer. Not only was there a gigantic weeping willow, but there was a lake! Closing my eyes, I can hear the sound of screen doors snapping shut across the water, and voices calling to each other--especially kids' voices. Outboard motors being cranked...I can smell the gasoline and hear the water being churned in their wake.

I was in high school. We called it "going to the cottage," and the stress of getting everything together for all (then) five of us kids resulted in plenty of stress for Mom and Dad, and lots recreational arguing for the rest of us. But it was always with a great sense of adventure that we finally piled into the car and moved there for the summer. (In a related story--one which is not mine to tell--my baby brother Jason was conceived out there, according to family lore; but perhaps that's too much information for now.)

The sounds, the scents, the sights of summer. They take me back better than any photograph ever could. I think I could bear losing a few of my short-term memories, as long as I could keep all those old ones where I love to dwell.

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Those signs for congressmen in that yard...are those guys Republicans or Democrats? I can't tell, and normally, I wouldn't care. But this is not a normal election, and it's making me say and do crazy things. I've become absolutely vituperative! I nearly stroked out the other day when we got that questionnaire from the Donald himself, asking for credit card information so we could contribute to his campaign. Who did he think he was sending that to?!! I had the entire thing filled out, using every version of the f-word that I could think of (and some I'd made up) before Awesome Greg got a chance to look at it. Today I noticed that he had "mailed" it into the trash basket. Probably better that way.

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I love holidays. I love my family. Holidays make me sorely miss the ones who are gone. Dad especially loved holidays. He loved getting the family together, and he loved going to the cottage. Getting old is not easy, nor is it always fun (although it can be funny). Remembering makes me feel young again, and memories are fun to play with.

I'm not posting this until the day after Labor Day, so I'll wish you all a wonderful holiday--the kind from which happy memories grow--belatedly.