Labor Day weekend is upon us.
Meaning it's the unofficial end of our unofficial summer in Southern California. I say unofficial because it's essentially summer 365 days a year, here.
If I can stroll down to the end of my driveway in January, wearing nothing but shorts, a T-shirt and flip flops, it's still summer. I only wish my neighbor afforded me the same courtesy and put on a T-shirt as well. Dude, put on a shirt or start working on that core.
Had I been returning to school, our English teacher might ask, "What did you do this summer?"
I'm glad you asked (he said to no one in particular.)
This summer was different. It was the first in 34 years that I spent without Deb. That's a deep sadness very few of you, apart from my fellow widows and widowers, will understand. Unlike me, Deb was all about finding the joy in the life. And I am retooling myself to internalize her adventuresome spirit.
A sentiment best expressed by this short piece...
With that in mind and with the knowledge that she would want me to move forward, with intent, let me offer a short recap of a fun filled summer that was restorative in so many unexpected ways.
* Went to Chavez Ravine. Twice. It had been a while since visiting the stadium to see our billion dollar Dodgers. The parking, the crowds, the traffic have made it a less-than desirable experience. And let's not forget they stopped offering diced onions for the Dodger Dogs. But both outings (one loss and one win) were incredible. At the risk of sounding cliche, there is nothing that compares with spending some time with the Boys of Summer.
* Bike Rides. My old triathlon bike, a classic Cinelli, was gathering dust and cobwebs. I changed all that and had the bike (expensively) refurbished and brought up to snuff. And then found several occasions to actually sit my fat ass in the seat and rack up some miles. In fact I found a zealous riding partner who joined me last night for an easy 14 miles, all in preparation for a 60 mile ride fundraising ride in Morro Bay next month. Me and my precious perineum are looking forward to it.
* Concerts. As mentioned in previous posts, there was an evening with Robert Plant and Alison Krause, two incomparable musicians who harmonize like no other. Another night with the LA Philharmonic scoring the movie Amadeus, which was even funnier upon a second viewing.
And last week, perhaps the most unexpected live music performance I can recall. We literally walked through the front door of an eyeglass store in South Pasadena. Passed a panoply of spectacles and sunglasses, to a parking lot that had been converted into an impromptu amphitheater. There was dancing, there were little kids playing, there was beer and munchies, and there was a joie de vivre that felt like it came from a different time and place -- "Next stop, Willoughby."
Oh and there were lots of eyeglasses, did I mention that?
In short it was a summer of heaviness and happiness, a seemingly counterintuitive thought, but one that is sculpting my new definition of Self™.
One last note in a nod to something that will never change -- my disdain for the GOP, their unabashed fascism, and the misappropriation of the American flag, a symbol that used to represent the best of this country.
I have a good mind to unfurl the 8 foot long flag the US government gave me to honor my late uncle for his military service. That is if I can figure out how to hang it from my porch so it won't touch the ground.
Here's a little treat regarding the flag from Robert Klein:
Skip to 27:42
Rich, normally I’d give you a hard time about the seats in your X-Type. However, just can’t bring myself to do it. That’s a touching poem about grief because it’s true.
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