The Summer Isn’t Even Over Yet
Ok, I admit – the sun is waking up a bit later these days, and the leaves are beginning to take on a yellowish cast that suggest a certain malaise with the whole summer season. It’s like they’re waiting for permission to fall – they’ve upheld their end of the bargain for months. And it’s certainly cooler and quieter in the darkness of the morning, though the stars have been amazingly enthusiastic in appearance. But last I looked it’s still summer in this part of the world, and dammit, I’m not ready to call it over.
So why are the supermarkets starting to sell Halloween candy? Why am I seeing store sales for sweaters and jackets when the mere thought of such encumbrances makes me break out in a full-blown glow that requires showering in the middle of the day? And most importantly, why oh why do I have to hear, read, watch political ads in every possible media forum available? I’m sorry – I don’t find any of it fascinating, because I question the veracity of every assertion. I’m crossing every party line when I write this – for though it would seem that much of the population enjoys the divisiveness, attack ads, accusations and vitriol – perhaps I am a minority of one. I don’t know what will bring us together when so much time is spent fueling disparity and hostility. I’ not naive, I know politics isn’t a nice business – it just seems to get uglier to me though. Perhaps it’s because it is a process that seems never-ending, or maybe it suffers from the absence of the gentler winds of summer. I tire of verbs like ‘pandering’, adjectives like ‘ineffectual’, comments that suggest that we are so far behind the eight ball there is nothing left for which to be proud and strong.
So, if I could paint the world in my colors, there’d be fewer primary colors right now (pun intended). There’d be a more effusive use of pastels, with striking, unequivocal hues left for the issues which unite humanity. Ah, this is a throwback from my love child days I guess. I want my own crayons thank you very much, and I want to paint a gentler backdrop for our conversations to continue.
This quote from Robert Fulghum comes to mind – “Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air – explode softly – and send thousands, millions , of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth – boxes of Crayola. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either – not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with their imagination.”
Yes it’s naive, even childish – I’ll own it. But given this flight of fancy on these waning summer days, what would you draw? What would you give the world that it could cherish and elicit a smile, a laugh? If we started from a place of similarity and hope. As you picked up your Crayola box, with all those brilliant colors all sharp and ready for your imagination to color the world. It’s your mural – what would you like it to reflect? Mine would be full of light and wishes and a lousy attempt at drawing fireflies. It would have children of all shapes and sizes and talents and colors. I’d color doors that are open. And I would send a message up to the sky asking for a little more kindness, a bit more humor and a little more time. It’s your turn – what’s on your easel?