“C’est la vie”, say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell…”

June has been a month “on the road” and a break in my normal routine. Many ceremonies and rituals to attend and the pleasure of meeting new people – a refreshing time. I learned and laughed. I promised myself that I would write four posts this month, so I’m down to the wire, which is my wont.

As I was driving back to home base in the glorious summer weather, I had time to reflect. The window was down, the breeze was fine, and I was driving a scenic route listening to Patsy Cline (another of my father’s Pandora selections), barefoot on the pedals – heaven.

I think the best part of my “adventures” was seeing a friend who I have known since I was nine years old. I see her once a year and it’s always magical. We spent hours sitting on her porch overlooking the water; we’d talk, sometimes she would cross stitch, and the best part of old friends – comfortable silences. I hold dear this friendship and our bond is like sisterhood. 

I take comfort in the old-fashioned rituals of summer: the outdoors, the mountains, the woods, the beach, river rafting, BBQ, picnics, ice cream, spying fireflies, tending a garden. When my parents were still around there would be homemade ice cream. These simple pleasures are essential, particularly now that life is so hectic. Stop and smell the roses, people! I realize this is a completely banal observation, yet the old saw is wise and not heeded nearly enough.

It is my intention to live in an endless summer, and I shall endeavor to realize my ambition. I don’t know what I want to “be” when I grow up, and frankly I hope when I am 80 (if I am fortunate enough to live that long), and still have all my buttons as my great-grandmother would say, that I still won’t know what I want to be. If life is too defined or planned, that usually doesn’t work anyway, and if it does – wouldn’t it close us off from infinite and wonderful possibilities?

June has left me in a mellow, contented, well-being state of mind. No drugs necessary! As we enter July, I wish for all a fun-filled, amazing, adventurous, transformative, and inspiring summer with precious memories for the years to come.

In love and peace,

 

Clare Irwin

Stream of Consciousness Sunday

I haven’t posted anything new for over two weeks, and my only excuse is that I was sucked into the vortex of Twitter and Pinterest. Just got back, barely. Twitter and Pinterest are fun and intriguing, but suddenly I realize that I’m late for…everything. On Twitter, there’s a lot coming at the viewer – it’s about speed, I think. I do like the exercise of keeping it brief, but with an endless supply of new tweets and “news” items, my mind is jumping around from saving the oceans, to what British Vogue is recommending for an in-between weather coat, to Shakespeare Sunday, or whatever international day we are celebrating.

As I was driving on my appointed rounds today I was trying to compose a new blog post in my head. I then realized I had Twitter-itis – the inflammation of random thoughts bouncing around the various lobes of my brain. So I guess since that’s the best I could do, here is how it went:

I decided to listen to disco music, which I am not even sure I like, but the weather has been so gloomy and stormy I felt like I needed a dose of verve. Donna Summer was playing which reminded me of an old Saturday Night Live sketch about a fast food restaurant in the South where the employees are telling customers to “Simma down now!” (Cheri Oteri and Tobey Maguire were in it). That brought me to Pulp Fiction, which I have mentioned in a previous post, and the line Uma Thurman delivers when Vincent Vega comes to pick her up for their “date.” She’s directing him to the bar or the music and she says, “Warm. Warmer. — Disco.” I like that. Next, I thought of my friend’s son, James, (I have written about him in an earlier post), who despite his mother’s ironclad parental restrictions on cable, internet, TV, and movies, unearthed a website where he can watch all the things he shouldn’t. James has discovered Quentin Tarantino and especially likes Pulp Fiction. Thinking about James made me realize how much he’s changed since last summer, as boys his age are wont to do — he’s still funny and precocious. Now, he is also courtly and charming with the ladies, offering to carry my shopping bags and that sort of thing. James is more engaging in all sorts of inappropriate conversations which is a guilty pleasure we share. He’s retired the Pink Floyd T-shirt for the usual prep school gear that those of us who went to prep school give ourselves over to for a time. Soon he’ll be off to college, which then makes me think of the last two weeks and how I would like to get through a day without someone in my orbit crying. So, after the drama of the day, I do unplug, but come morning I am back on Twitter and Pinterest. Next is learning Facebook — so send out the search party.   

Facebook-plasia anyone?

Clare Irwin

P.S. The Pulp Fiction post “Son of a Preacher Man” can be found in Archives July 2016, and James’s post “Straight to the Heart of Fun” Archives August 2016.