Thursday, July 8, 2010
Sweating to the Oldies
~William Carlos Williams
Summer finally hit the NW. Ninety plus temps, here we come! I can't complain (much), considering that everyone East of the Mississippi is absolutely sweltering.
I'm not a fan of Summer. Oh, put down the rotten tomatoes already, you knew that about me - I'm a Winter girl. I'm just not a "let's go outside and get all sweaty and sunburned" kind of gal. Neither do I possess the statuesque physicality required for most Summer clothing. True, most people don't, but I'm a little more self-conscious than some. Clearly. If you've achieved boobs, tube tops are not for you. Short shorts should be worn only by the Dallas Cowboy's cheerleaders and no one else. Okay, maybe the Rockettes.
But I'm already off-track. See? This is what heat does to me. It's uncomfortably distracting and distractingly uncomfortable. I just can't concentrate. I was really about to say that there are some things about Summer that I love. I'm just trying to remember what they are. Let's see... fresh local produce. Yes, I like that. Swimming too, when I get the chance. I like that.
I think that's it. With shipping speed what it is any more, we can get fresh produce all year long. Maybe it isn't quite as good as in the Summer, but it's still good. Swimming can pretty much be done year 'round too. I guess I can pretty much do without Summer. We could cruise out of Spring, right into Autumn, and back into Winter again. I'd be perfectly fine with that. Summer could just as conveniently take place somewhere else.
I do like the music of Summer. I was just becoming a cogent creature during the famous Summer of Love, 1969. When I think of Summer, I think of the music from that Summer. Thankfully I had (still have) older brothers who were into both rock and folk. I think that's all I really do like about Summer... the old music. There's a lovely sensation of reading a book while sitting on the beat up sofa in our basement, the sound of the laundry machines humming in the wash room, accompanying my brother Tom's stereo. Suddenly my mother's voice interrupts, "What are you doing inside on such a gorgeous Summer's day?!"
Maybe that's why I don't like Summer... all that pressure to go do something. I'd rather just be me than change into a creature that I'm not at any other time of the year.