June 4: The Future, Graduation Time, Change

[E. B. White] graduated from high school in January 1917 but didn't leave for Cornell until fall.  Whit a thousand dollars' worth of scholarships--ten times Cornell's annual tuition--he had no financial worries.  But the future did not look rosy...

E. B. White graduated from high school just before President Woodrow Wilson declared war on Germany, throwing the United States into World War I.  Instead of going off to college, many young men went off to war.  On Palm Sunday that year, White looked out his window and "noticed that the neighborhood lawns were sporting so many flags they looked like red, white, and blue spring flowers."

It's that time of year.  Graduation is in the air along with the pollen.  This Friday, one of my niece's is graduating from high school.  Last month, another of my nieces graduated from college, and she's getting married in the fall.  Early June is a time of change.  The planet shifts from the dead branches of winter to the dandelion blossoms of spring.  Everybody is happy, celebrating the sun and warmth.

I've never been a lover of change.  This time of year sort of depresses me.  Young people are growing up, moving away, starting new lives.  Like E. B. White, I don't see the future as rosy.  I'd need to drink a lot of gin to attain that outlook. 

My future looked rosy when I graduated from high school and had a full-ride scholarship to college.  My future looked rosy when I graduated from college and had a full-ride assistantship to graduate school.  My future looked rosy when I earned my Master's degree and had a full-ride fellowship to a PhD program.  My future looked rosy when I received another full-ride fellowship to an MFA program.  And my future looked rosy when I marched into my MFA graduation ceremony.

Since then, things have not always been so rosy.  In fact, much of the last ten years has been a struggle.  Tonight, on the fourth of June, the lilacs are blooming.  The crickets are chirping.  My kids are done with school for the summer.  And I'm struggling again.  I'm sure I'll find my happy place again.  It's going to take a while.

In the meantime, Saint Marty will have to rely on sleeping pills and chocolate.

No matter how high you throw them, they always end up in the dirt

December 16: No Gin Tonight, Son!

No gin tonight, son!


Looks like everybody's having a little gin to me

 Peter Bailey, played by actor Samuel S. Hinds, says this to his younger son, Harry, as he's headed out the door to go to his graduation party.  At this point in the movie, the time period is around 1926 or 1927, a couple years before the Great Depression hits.  The Jazz Age is in full swing, and gin is pretty easy to get a hold of.  It's always struck me as a little funny that Mr. Bailey adds that word "tonight" in his admonition.  Obviously, it's alright for Harry to go out and get blasted on other occasion, but not when he's wearing and tuxedo and has just graduated from high school.

My wife and I are having some friends over tonight for dinner.  We're making some of our favorite dishes and appetizers.  I baked a pecan pie last night.  We hardly ever entertain or have dinner guests.  Most of the time, we eat dinner in the living room, watching TV or reading.  We are actually clearing off the dining room table and breaking out the good china.  When I spoke to my friend, he asked if he could bring anything.  I told him to bring a bottle of wine.  He was cool with that.  I also plan on picking up a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream (no relation to George) to mix in some hot chocolate, as well.

I'm excited to have our friends over.  They're a great couple, around our ages.  Matt was just hired this fall at the university to teach creative non-fiction.  Louisa, his wife, is just plain wonderful.  They had us to their house for dinner around Halloween, so it's our turn now.  Of course, Matt is a food person.  He worked in the restaurant industry for quite a few years.  That's makes me a little nervous.  However, I keep telling myself that they are not coming to our house for the food.  They're coming to spend time with us.  The food's incidental.

There will be quite a bit of "gin" consumed this evening.  We killed a couple bottles of wine when we were at their house in October.  So, Mr. Bailey's warning is not going to work too well at our house tonight.  Then again, none of us are 18-year-olds fresh out of high school.

Peter Bailey has a stroke a few hours after giving his sage advice to his son, Peter.  He dies broken and tired, with great dreams and lots of unfulfilled desires, I would imagine.

Saint Marty intends to have some gin tonight.  Maybe some zinfandel or pinot noir, as well.