Here we are on July 9th! Lots of thoughts are running through my mind today. Some are downers, most are just fine. All yield to survival, and when the day is done, the smiles do return.........
Today marks the third anniversary of my dear sister Janet's passing. I celebrate her every day, and the image that comes to the forefront in my brain when I think of her is finally that of the whole, healthy, smiling beauty we all knew and loved prior to the dastardly devil called cancer attacked. I am so grateful that most every day, the thoughts bring a smile to my face, and that we continue to laugh and celebrate her on her birthday. It is on this day, however, that the poignant, joyous thoughts of what her heart so generously gave us during her lifetime are disguised by the images of what her body became during those last few months. The upside of today is that the calendar and its cruel way of reminding us of our mournful milestones will yield to a new day of fond remembrances with no particular significance other than the affection, sentiment, and inspiration they provide. The smiles do return.............
Janet is in heaven smiling at my next revelation, for it is a story that I would have shared with her during one of our conversations. We all know by now that I am a curmudgeon who doesn't like fun. My family knows it, my friends know it, and my school kids learn it pretty early in the school year. In fact, if a student in my small group asks if we can do something fun on that particular day, another student will exclaim, "No, remember? Mr. B. doesn't like fun!"
Well, it is also common knowledge that my Jackie and I are new grandparents and only inches away from being empty nesters, so activities involving just the two of us are becoming more commonplace as the summer rolls along. This is a positive thing, as I have been known to enjoy her company. This week, however, the activity of her choice was the fair. With all due respect to the organizers, workers and patrons, I don't like going to the fair. There is smoke. There is music of a genre only appreciated when one is on the boardwalk and under eighteen. It's July and we're in the middle of a heat wave that would last twelve days before the comfort returned. There are showers of light that, if I stay too long at the fair (there's a song in there somewhere!), will surely give me a seizure. A child has ridden one of the nasty spinning rides after allegedly eating fries and drinking too much soda and........well........you know. There is Bingo in a pavilion with only an occasional breeze and much more smoke. There are folks who don't know of my need to concentrate on the numbers being called, and so one in front of me and one behind me hold a conversation, and my millions is lost. There are port-a-potties, and if one needs to........well.........you know........after dark, he or she'd better have a sense of where to aim, and if he or she has to sit, he or she'd better go home. There are fireworks. We watched them from our deck for many years until the trees interfered with our view. This year, I carried two chairs around until the illuminated spectacle began. Now how could someone who has an aversion to all this fun survive such an evening? Impossible?.............
I found the solution! When the smoke got to be too much, I coughed and complained and made sure Jackie was listening. When the pounding of the music made my heart beat in sync with it, I put my hand on my chest and complained again. As the sweat beaded on my forehead, and I had to work harder to breathe, I sighed and complained. When the flashing of the lights began to make me feel lightheaded, I squinted and complained. When I lost my Bingo game, most definitely due to the talkers, I glared and complained. When I left the port-a-potty and couldn't wash my hands, and just guessed that I aimed adequately, I complained. Every time we changed our location to get a better, unobstructed view of the fireworks, I growled and complained.
When I am confronted with the question of attending the fair next year, every muscle in my face will exude negative emotion and I'll complain. Then, I'll accompany my gal to the fair and complain all evening because, even with all that complaining.....correction......especially with all that complaining, the smiles do return.........
