Labor Day
The humidity was heavy in the air this morning, much more pronounced than yesterday. It will be an oppressively hot day, but looking at the calendar, I am mindful that this will change more quickly than I like to believe. The sun is beginning to get that Emily Dickinson “certain slant” to it, and the days and evenings feel slightly different, as though there has been some subtle but great turning — which there has. This earth is moving and tilting in preparation for the months that will bring winter to this hemisphere. When I look at the skies, whether in the blue of day or the pinpricked black of night, I have to remind myself that the stars and planets are not whirling past, but rather that this ball of water and dirt and greenery is spinning like the second hand on my watch.
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I am truly enjoying the P.D. James autobiography/diary that I recently bought at the little used bookstore down in town. She has the true writer’s gift for observation and description, and her penetrating insights into things that occurred during the year she kept this diary in the late 1990s have led me to put the book down and think about her reflections. A particularly powerful section was written during the time when Diana, Princess of Wales, was killed in an automobile crash. James’ examination of the behavior and possible motives of the royal family, the British subjects, and the media during this time are riveting. Since this coming weekend will mark the one-year anniversary of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, I will wait until then to post a couple of excerpts from James’ book.
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For those of you who are still checking in here occasionally, I hope you have the day off and that you are enjoying a peaceable time in this life. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite songs. My family and close friends smilingly tolerate my love of the music of Gilbert O’Sullivan, which I encountered in 1971 when my aunt bought one of his 8-track tapes. This was during a time when I was beginning to learn trumpet and music theory, and I enjoyed O’Sullivan’s arrangements, with the multilayered horns and backing orchestras he employed. A witty, deft lyricist with a pleasing top-of-the-throat vocal style and a peculiar percussive way of playing the piano, Gilbert O’Sullivan is the musical Lay’s Potato Chips in my life — I can never listen to just one of his songs.
But I will leave only one here for now. I hope it’s pleasant for you.
And have a pleasant Labor Day.
~ S.K. Orr
4 Comments
NLR
“The sun is beginning to get that Emily Dickinson “certain slant” to it, and the days and evenings feel slightly different, as though there has been some subtle but great turning — which there has. ”
I know what you mean.
There’s a good quote from Thoreau’s “A week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers” about this (https://gutenberg.org/cache/epub/4232/pg4232-images.html):
“As we lay awake long before daybreak, listening to the rippling of the river, and the rustling of the leaves, in suspense whether the wind blew up or down the stream, was favorable or unfavorable to our voyage, we already suspected that there was a change in the weather, from a freshness as of autumn in these sounds.
The wind in the woods sounded like an incessant waterfall dashing and roaring amid rocks, and we even felt encouraged by the unusual activity of the elements. He who hears the rippling of rivers in these degenerate days will not utterly despair. That night was the turning-point in the season. We had gone to bed in summer, and we awoke in autumn; for summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf.”
admin
Thank you, NLR. That is a magnificent quote, and so very true. I never fail to be in awe of how suddenly the weather shifts as the seasons morph one into the other. One hour it’s this season…and in one more hour, it’s a completely different atmosphere. I think the changing of the seasons is one of the things that feeds hope in my heart when other things do not. That relentless yet gentle cycle of life, death, give, take, ebb, flow. It’s like breathing…in, out….or a heartbeat…contract, relax….
Thank you again for the quote. I hope the changing weather and slant of the sun is being kind to you and yours.
Lewis
SK-
Just so you know, I always read your posts. Sometimes I am a few days late, but read them I certainly do.
You are a very good writer, but a couple of your recent past posts really hurt. I am referring primarily to the one about the sick old lady with a pet cat that was about to be evicted or sent to the nursing home and the poor kitty having an uncertain future. Also, the one about the guy who was too poor to afford the health care to save his sick kitty’s life. These type of things are really difficult to digest along with the news these days. But it is the fact that you are such a good writer that makes them all the more potent.
Recently, I got a laugh reading your post about the wanna be bad asses. Let me admit that I am elderly now and dread the thought of going to a nursing home some day. I work out on the weight machines to try to maintain some muscle tone and overall health. Of course, it is a losing battle, but I enjoy it and feel that I benefit from it.
Further, the news tells of older people, men and women, who have been sucker punched in urban areas. The thugs seem to pick on the least likely to be able to defend themselves. I hope to at least appear strong and capable of defending myself.
I have really felt the heat this summer and am moving a little slow. Hopefully, we will get some cooler weather soon and that will envigorate us. Well, I’ve got to go the Y and work out.
admin
Lewis! So good to hear from you, my brother.
Your praise is dear to me, and I appreciate the encouragement. I am aware that my subject matter is sometimes dismal, and also of the need for sunnier themes to counterbalance the grim realities we see around us all the time. But I am consistently drawn to the things that water the flower of melancholy within me. I suppose some would describe me as emotionally masochistic.
I applaud your determination to remain in fighting trim. It’s not only a healthy practice but also may be useful in preventing the kind of evil that people seem increasingly willing to commit against we older folks. For me, I know my fighting days are over, but I remain confident in my ability to inflict grievous harm on the human body in an efficient manner.
Of course, I mean this in a cheeky manner. I can barely make a fist any longer, much less the compacted knot of bone and sinew I once could manage. If I struck someone in his beer belly, I would likely have to be airlifted to the Reconstructive Surgery Center For Geezers.
Blessings to you, brother. Hope your weekend is blissful.