“Dreams & summer are cut from the same cloth. Anything that happens now will be suspect, come winter. But that’s okay. It’s no reason not to enthusiastically indulge, and drink from a full cup, while the sun is hot & high, and the river cool, and refreshing. We can ponder the contrast, before a crackling fire, and marvel, and feel our pathos, snugly and safely positioned, beneath a shelter of heavy snow. There truly is a time, and a place, for everything. The feel of August, here in Vermont, is wistful, and slightly vain, but engorged by the bounty that still surrounds us. How many remarkable things have just occurred? Weddings, tournaments, completed projects, vacations, separations, unexpected visitations, as well as untimely deaths, and spontaneous celebrations. This time of incredible flowering, be it in gardens, or as families gather, could not be more poignant. And lonely, for some. It helps to embrace the comedic element. Two friends’ invitation to attend their “30th Anniversary of Being Together” broke thru my usual veil of work-a-holism, enticing me to drive over, on a Saturday afternoon. It did mean something to me, deeply, to be on their short list. The grace of inclusion, is a thing often trivialized, until you’ve lived alone, for more than a decade. The parking, was tricky. I knew as much, in advance, having been up their dead end dirt road, several times before. But I’d premeditated my plan: to turn around at the top, and park facing down, in a pull-off, suitable for trucks. It could be no other way. I knew my social capital was limited, and that I’d want to leave early. You learn to think ahead. I couldn’t have known, what was coming. Bringing my chair, and my beverage, I nervously approached the driveway, on foot, looking for a familiar face. I saw one. I made a bee-line for Linda. Linda filled me in on some details, for which I felt thankful. The sloping lawn, carved out of rugged, hill country terrain, was looking better than ever: spruced up, re-jiggered some, to allow for a beatific view of the valley and the eastern ridge line. I admired, as I always do, the creative use of land, and judicious placement of buildings - something rich folks don’t have to think much about. As the ceremony began to percolate, I moved towards the stage, and found a somewhat level spot to set up my chair. I was getting genuinely excited. The three daughters, each taking a turn, spoke out simply, in laughter & in tears, characterizing their parents brilliantly. What could have possibly prepared us for what came next? “We’ve decided to honor our 30th anniversary by getting married” he said ... or she said? I was taken by surprise, so I don’t remember who said it. Didn’t really matter. The justice of the peace jumped up, and as she pronounced them “civilly married” or whatever passes as legal, I spilled the tea they’d served us, into the crotch of my pants, as if signaled to do so. Was it wrong to think it signified something? With wet pants, I lasted another hour. Happily suffering thru a deficit of understanding, and consequent break-thru to enlightenment: that so many of us are pure gold! And my parking spot was pure gold : easy to pull out of, without damaging another vehicle, & drive home slowly, into the sunset, on a burnished, copper-colored, fading sun-gold evening, at the tail end of summer. Feeling my losses; savoring, my fleeting joys.”
