Skip to main content

F ³: The Weirdest Summer

 



Yesterday afternoon I sat at a picnic table in the shade as my youngest and I enjoyed snowballs with ice cream on top at Opie’s in Catonsville. The weather was perfect. The moment was perfect.

“You know…” I began - - more for myself, I think - - “This has been the most normal summer afternoon after what has been the weirdest summer of my life.”

We had started with a visit to Scrap B’more, the creative reuse store for art and craft supplies. (I first wrote about them in 2018.)  Yes, they are still going strong but they’ve moved to a new location in Pigtown. They were doing a brisk business while we were there and I suspect many of the young women we saw were teachers. I found a decent used watercolor set and M. walked out with a collections of beads, buttons, bangles, and stencils. 

I made a mental note as we walked back to the car that I should make an appointment to donate some of my craft stash that I don’t need. It’s such a great way to keep these materials out of a landfill.

From there we headed to Opie’s for snowballs. I have a soft spot in my heart for this place because it was our kid’s discovery, introduced to us. There’s something particularly sweet about having one’s offspring declare, “We need to go to this cool place I found.” It’s a passing of the torch moment, in a way. 

In an ordinary summer this would have been just a nice day. But this has not been an ordinary summer.







I guess having your ceiling collapse puts your life in perspective. 

This summer has been a rollercoaster of emotional, physical, and logistical challenges. I’ve learned a lot about what’s important. It is hard to lose an entire room’s worth of material possessions. It’s a lot easier to accept when you realize that someone you love was seconds away from bearing the weight of all this destruction. 

I’m still processing.

So yesterday was more than a nice day in an ordinary summer. It was a celebration that I still have moments and experiences and people who bring me joy. 

And good folks like you to share it all with. 


Village Green/Town² Comments 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...