McCleary
By INGRID MCCLEARY
I used to think I lost my patience more with my kids during their summer vacation because they were constantly underfoot and generated more mess than a raccoon family ravaging a cabin in the woods. But I've begun to suspect there's another reason involved.
During the school year, our schedules coincide. Theirs: school, homework, chores, fun-time, bedtime. Mine: first work shift, dinner, chores, lounge-time, second work shift, bedtime. Once summer hits though, a serious imbalance occurs; namely, they get all the fun! And I'm jealous!
Weekends lose all meaning for them--every day is now Funday. Conversely, I look forward to weekends with even more longing because then I can catch up on all the fun I missed Monday through Friday.
There's so much fun to be had in the summer. There's the obvious fun of sailing, beachcombing, camping, hiking, swimming, all of which keep you outdoors and away from the giant money-sucking contraption--the air conditioner.
An then there are the not-so-obvious pleasures, the majority of which occur once the kids are in bed (which automatically raises the pleasure rating one notch).
There's the simple enjoyment of throwing the windows wide open--even at midnight. Or listening to a cricket concerto as you sway in the hammock. Or smelling the primal mixture of earth and grass as you lie on a blanket in the back yard watching meteor showers streak across an ebony sky.
There are things you can only do in the summer, like weeding the garden or mowing the lawn after dinner--duties usually reserved for weekends in winter, spring and fall. Or walking the dog before sunset, something you don't do as often as you should the other seasons because it's easier to find valid excuses (it's too wet, cold, dark, windy). It's easier to say to your dog, "Hey, Duke, wouldn't you rather curl up in front of this cozy fire?" Duke, of course, being a typical dog who wags his tail whenever his owner speaks, acquiesces without any knowledge of what he's given up.
During winter, you barricade yourself against the cold night. During spring and fall, the changing world is seen best in daylight. But in summer, you get the warmth of day along with a bonus--the cool delight of night.
Summer nights add another dimension to your life. You've got the same 24 hours, but evenings now carry a different feeling. It's like falling asleep when you're bone-tired. With each drifting moment, you're acutely aware of--and thankful for--the genuinely divine feeling of falling asleep. Sleep then, becomes a gift rather than a necessary and ordinary bodily function. In the same vein, summer nights become a gift and you, the lucky recipient.
Of course, I'm biased; I'm a night owl. Have been all my life. (Just ask my mother: I was a chubby, chortling baby. Unfortunately, I did most of my chortling in the middle of the night.)
The night has always been my steadfast companion. Perhaps what I enjoy most about summer is that, to some extent, everyone around me becomes a seasonal night owl. And I derive pleasure from witnessing their explorations because, for once, I'm part of the mainstream. I'm no longer an oddity bucking the nine-to-five system. I'm just another person who's awakened to the treasures of summer nights.
I'm just another person having fun.
This article appeared in the Sunnyvale Sun, June 26, 1996.
©1996 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.