The tuna, the fishermen called all the fish of that species tuna and only distinguished among them by their proper names when they came to sell them or to trade them for baits, were down again. The sun was hot now and the old man felt it on the back of his neck and felt the sweat trickle down his back as he rowed.
I could just drift, he thought, and sleep and put a bight of line around my toe to wake me. But today is eighty-five days and I should fish the day well.
Just then, watching his lines, he saw one of the projecting green sticks dip sharply.
It's the end of a long day, and I have to admit that mostly what I'm thinking about, like Santiago, is sleep.
I don't sleep as much as I should. I know this. However, getting COVID in January of this year has affected my nightly habit of staying awake until 1 or 2 a.m. I find that, by about 9 p.m., I'm completely spent. I have to sit or lie down. Often, I sleep for a few hours and then wake up for a couple more hours before going to bed. Again, not a healthy sleep schedule. I know this.
This evening, I hosted an outdoor concert by a musician named Chris Bathgate at the library. A lovely and talented person. Really committed to his artistic life. And a fan of Wallace Stevens and poetry in general. His music was quiet. His songs like meditations almost. After the concert was done, my son said, "Unironically, this is one of my favorite bands I've heard here." During the concert, he spent almost half an hour petting the dog of one of my close friends. That may have influenced his opinion of the concert a bit. Two of his favorite things together--music and a puppy.
When I got home, I texted a couple friends about the concert. One friend had gone out for some peach ice cream. My father used to love peach ice cream. It was his favorite. He used to tell me how they would have it on the farm where he grew up. I think he said that they made it themselves and would put catsup on it, which sounds absolutely disgusting.
Despite my tiredness, it was a miracle of an evening. Over one hundred people showed up for the concert. People brought food and chairs, sat on the grass, and just enjoyed a cool peach ice cream summer night. Without catsup.
Saint Marty knows what grace feels like tonight.
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