A short aircar trip brought Arthur and the old Magrathean to a doorway. They left the car and went through the door into a waiting room full of glass-topped tables and Plexiglas awards. Almost immediately, a light flashed above the door at the other side of the room and they entered.
"Arthur! You're safe!" a voice cried.
"Am I?" said Arthur, rather startled. "Oh, good."
The lighting was rather subdued and it took a moment or so to see Ford, Trillian, and Zaphod sitting round a large table beautifully decked out with exotic dishes, strange sweetmeats, and bizarre fruits. They were stuffing their faces.
In a Magrathean waiting room, the crew of the Heart of Gold, minus Marvin the depressed robot, is reunited. They've been separated for close to 50 pages at this point. The key phrase for me from the above passage is "The lighting was rather subdued . . ."
I just went outside a little while ago. It was close to 8 p.m., and I had spent the previous two-plus hours cleaning my house. Sweeping. Mopping. Vacuuming. Straightening. Scrubbing sinks and the toilet. Emptying garbages. After all that, I was heading to McDonald's to pick up some dinner for my family.
I was greeted by the long light of late summer. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Near dusk at the end of August, the sun casts the world in tall shadows. The light is almost golden, and everything seems to stretch in the glow. I only notice this phenomenon as we approach September.
To me, it sort of symbolizes the last gasp of summer. In some places, the leaves on the trees have already begun to turn toward autumn. On my street, green is pretty much holding its ground. But, after a few frosty mornings and evenings, the switch will happen. The trees and bushes will put away their summer wardrobes, and, one surprising morning, I will realize that I have to drag out my fall jacket.
The season of long light is here. Summer is drawing to a close. That is my wisdom for this evening. I have to say that I will not miss the summer of 2019. It has not been good or rejuvenating for me. In fact, I'm ready to place this year on the shelf with a few other bad ones--2015 (the death of my sister), 2005 (a bad year for my wife's bipolar and addiction), 2014 (the death of my brother) . . .
Of course, 2019 hasn't been all bad. I got elected to serve a second term as Poet Laureate of the Upper Peninsula. That was good. My daughter graduated from high school. Good. My son is headed into middle school. Good. Lots of long light moments. Things ending and beginning at the same time.
I know that life is all about moments like this. Something comes to a close. Something else starts to blossom. My daughter is ecstatic tonight. She landed her first job today. In fact, she landed two jobs, so she had to turn one of them down. At the moment, she is brimming with self confidence. I am so proud of her, and sad to let go of my little girl in pigtails.
So, in this season of long light, Saint Marty celebrates his daughter's accomplishment. A first job is a big deal. "Now," she said, "I can start paying for my own gas." Can Saint Marty get an "amen" to that?
Amen!
ReplyDelete