I had the travel clinic nurse call in our malaria pills (and travel diarrhea pills, which hopefully won’t be necessary) to CVS today. I picked up eight brown packages this evening, which, thankfully, were covered by insurance. I really had no idea what I was waking into, armed only with four measly discount cards from the travel clinic. I ended up only spending $28. Hooray!
We leave in 12 days for Africa, and the packing will begin in earnest tomorrow. We need to stay away from white and black, so as not to startle the big animals, and avoid dark blue and black in some areas so as not to attract tse tse flies. Camo patterns are a no-no in some areas because that’s what militants wear, and possessing Benadryl in Zambia can get you arrested.
This is quite a significant undertaking but I think it’ll all be worth it.
When I got home from the beach today, the cats sauntered into the foyer. They didn’t wag their nonexistent tails in excitement, and they didn’t nudge my leg, asking to be petted. Instead, they made wide circles around me and sniffed at my luggage.
They’re not dogs, so I’ll just go ahead and infer that they missed me.
The last time I stayed at the Sea Colony towers in Bethany, MTV was new, boom boxes were large and ran on six DD batteries, Coppertone spf 8 was erring on the side of caution, and bangs were tall. And my older sister, Lara, was still with us.
Lara’s best friend was the second eldest of five girls, and I was friendly with the fourth in line. Lara practically lived at their home during the summer, a smaller version of Scarlett’s Tara, tucked in the woods near Clifton, Virginia. Their German-born artist mother had designed it herself, and she floated through it in gossamer dresses, breezing through the kitchen on the way to her studio to paint watercolors and oils, often of her five beloved daughters. The dad was rarely home, so the place seemed solely the domain of Susanne, Tatiana, Sasha, Raissa, Katia, and Alina.
Susanne (we called her Mutti, which is German for mom) had a penthouse at Sea Colony in Bethany, and one summer my dreams came true when they invited me to come along for a week. It must have been around 1983, which is where the endless summer will always live in my mind.
Katia and I played video games in the arcade, lugged the boom box to the beach, sparingly applied sun tan lotion so as not to jeopardize a dark tan (nobody called it sun block in those days – why would you want to block the sun??), watched the MTV countdown, and quietly stole sips of champagne under the indulgent eye of Mutti and the disapproving glances of my sister.
Now here I am on the beach with Sea Colony still standing like something out of a fuzzy dream about a quarter mile down the beach. The buildings don’t appear to have been renovated since they were built. I fantasize that if I were to wander down there, I’d see my sister, her shiny dark brown hair combed back, her sunglasses on, and her lips shimmering with thickly applied gloss. I am afraid that if I approach, it’ll all dissolve into the summer breeze. So I keep my distance, and I keep my sister alive and well in the summer of 1983.
I’m at Bethany Beach with two friends and our three daughters who are turning 16 right around the same time- Evie a few weeks ago, Kate today, and Maxine on the 29th. It just seems so right, 16+beach.
We’ve had fish tacos, frozen custard, French fries, beach time, and walks on the boardwalk. We picked up Bethany’s finest baked goods at Morning Buns this morning and decorated the dining room before our sleepy teens descended. Tomorrow is more beach time and maybe a ride up to Rehoboth.
I got a little teary a few times during the Wakefield Class of 2023 graduation last night. I’m always a sucker for “Pomp and Circumstance,” so that was a given.
It was Dr. Wilmore’s address to the senior class that got me next. He talked about that day in March, 2020, when the whoops of joy erupted during D lunch when the kids heard their spring break would be two weeks long instead one. Little did they – and all of us- know what lay ahead. This class was only 3/4 of their way through their first year of high school when they were cut off from their school and everything that goes with it.
Dr. Wilmore talked about how they missed the opportunity to learn the culture of the school from the upperclassmen, yet they went ahead and formed connections, became involved, and persevered. When they returned in person, they set a tone of respect and appreciation for one another for the underclassmen to follow. He himself got a little choked up as he closed his speech, as he and Maggie Hsu, their senior class AP, will be leaving Wakefield with them.
The love and hope these administrators and teachers have for these young people, the dedication to their work, the drive to come in and give them everything they have is a thing of beauty. And the thing is, you really can’t give any less in this business or you might as well find a different job. Yes, they can be frustrating and get on our last nerve, and some of them require a lot more tending to than others, but we have to love all of them and love them hard.
It’s been nearly three months since I last posted and three months before that one. I’ve been trying to catch my breath for a while now. I can’t point to one cause, nor do I want to ruminate on it. Eyes forward!
I’ve been running so fast these last several months that I hadn’t had a chance to really sit quietly and notice things. Noticing things is nice. Here I am in the backyard as the light fades. All sorts or birds are calling to one another. A dove landed on a wire and wobbled for about five seconds before giving up and flitting down to the ground. A female cardinal flew to a branch of the river birch about 15 feet above my head, all in a tizzy. I looked around for a male cardinal but didn’t see one.
I caught the heady perfume of Edwin’s beloved gardenia and noticed that it has three puffy white blooms and a whopping nine more ready to burst into flower any day.
The bee balm at the edge of the pond are proudly sporting their scarlet flowers, and the numerous and varied pond plants must have grown a foot in the last few weeks.
Finally, summer has arrived. This is the perfect time to restart and spend more time noticing.
My Corner of the Village 