As the summer of 2021 winds down, I struggle to put words to paper, or fingers to keyboard. It it always this way. Attention spans are short even if hearts are full. Maybe a set of bullet points will serve.
1.Sailing. So many good experiences. Mark took out a couple who have
embarked on a new business. They were taking one precious day off all summer, and they used it to get out on the Lake. They barely talked, he said--just sat, facing into the wind, breathing and sensating. We've taken a record number of people out to swim too, on this hot hot summer. "Bring your bathing suits" was a new idea a few years ago, suitable only in conditions found a day or two a summer. This summer, we made it part of our standard preparation.
2. Parenthood. Both girls gone for the majority of the summer. Cedar launching to Michigan Tech in mid-August. There is
nothing in my life so rewarding as homemaking, and the empty nest is a deeply felt vacuum. What will the next phase be? Quoting my dear friend Ann whose life is running parallel to mine, apparently: "Overwhelming mix of emotions for this mom—...awe in [my daughter's] intensity of passion and determination, excitement and joy for the adventures ahead,....and admittedly totally selfish however intense and overwhelming heartbreak that suddenly in the blink of an eye we’ve reach that point where if all goes as hoped she will be mostly gone far away and home only briefly from here on out." Yes.
3. COVID. There's an imp infiltrating into our brains. "How can I create discord?" It's methods are devious. Like Loki in Norwegian mythology, or Screwtape in C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, this "senior demon" has created a strong footing. I can see it wringing its hands with glee, having succeeded beyond its wildest dreams. It used to take violence. War. starvation. But today--ANYTHING can convince people that others are enemies! A disease! A vaccination! Vitamin D! a Mask! Once we see the power of this Imp, however, we can send it scuttling simply by reaching out to any "other" which can now be defined even as someone who has made a different choice about wearing a mask, or getting a shot. There is a new tribe growing and silently communicating via everyday interactions--those who refuse to demonize the other, those who appreciate that everyone makes different choices, those threatened by neither side, those who are still searching beneath the vitriol for answers that everyone can live with.
4. MELANOMA. A changing, growing freckle on my leg brought me reluctantly to the clinic in the beginning of June. The result was 3 weeks of uncertainty, 2 canceled sailing trips, three surgeries, and lots of waiting and wondering. Also a strong sense of being carried in a current of love and good will towards what was, in the end, a happy ending. But even before my case was closed, good things resulted--in this case, healing between myself and the medical professionals I have eyed warily for decades. I met more kind and competent and just-so-HUMAN nurses, and personable compassionate doctors, to bring about a gentle but complete revamping of my ideas about medical care. There may be mistakes and blind spots in the profession as a whole, but the people are caring, human, and intend the best. And it is pretty incredible what they can do these days. I adored my surgeon who looked me in the eye, shared her wisdom and more importantly her ignorance when applicable, and whose hands were the steadiest Mark had ever seen (he watched the first, initial surgery). She showed Mark how to take out my stitches on Isle Royale so we could head north just eight days after the surgery. Long story short: I am one of the lucky ones, able to resume life as normal with only check-ups to remind me of this chapter of my life.
5.
Weather and Climate. Beginning with a hot, dry May, this has been the longest summer of my life in Minnesota. As I write, plumes of smoke waft through Two Harbors from the wildfires just north of us. Drought is not unheard of for Minnesota, and forest fires are part of natural regeneration, I remind myself. The water temperatures of Lake Superior, however, are the warmest in memory and I suspect in record, especially below the surface where Mark and I have been documenting offshore temperatures for years. Minnesota is feeling the heat, so to speak, which has the sad but true consequence that our climate work has upticked and felt very successful. People are paying attention, and scared, as well they should be. Sea Change trips, and volunteering with the Citizens' Climate Lobby continues to uplift and connect us to others in a movement that is beginning to feel worthy of the challenge.
There's more, always more, but that will have to suffice for now. I, for one, am ready for crisp fall air and some drippy rain.
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