Wakefield

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  “In some old magazine or newspaper I recollect a story, told as truth, of a man—let us call him Wakefield—who absented himself for a long time from his wife. The fact, thus abstractedly stated, is not very uncommon, nor, without a proper distinction of circumstances, to be condemned either as naughty or nonsensical. Howbeit, this, though far from the most aggravated, is perhaps the strangest instance on record of marital delinquency, and, moreover, as remarkable a freak as may be found in the whole list of human oddities. The wedded couple lived in London. The man, under pretense of going a journey, took lodgings in the next street to his own house, and there, unheard of by his wife or friends and without the shadow of a reason for such self-banishment, dwelt upward of twenty years. During that period he beheld his home every day, and frequently the forlorn Mrs. Wakefield. And after so great a gap in his matrimonial felicity—when his death was reckoned certain, his estate settled...

Things To Do Over Summer Break

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Until one reaches the age of 6 or 8, one is not aware there is such a thing as Summer Break. Somewhere between 8 to 10 years, Summer Break becomes the second greatest event of the calendar. The Summer Breaks of late teen years look back into the Summer Break of pre-teen years with a sense of longing (nearly mourning) and Adulthood Summer Breaks give us movies like “The Sandlot.”

Not sure when it developed, but since I was a boy I always thought of the “year” as a wheel, like a clock, though very different. The “twelve o’clock” position is on the bottom, starting with “January” and as one progresses around the wheel clock-wise, each month falls into its own section with a corresponding color (January is white, February is icy-blue, March is a light green, April is yellow, etc.). To this day when I think of October, I see brown in the last quarter of the wheel. May through August (for me) are the colors of mowed grass, swimming pools, burned hot dogs, shady woods and the light of the moon reflecting off the water.

Longfellow said it best:

“Then followed that beautiful season,
Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood.”

One very late summer night comes rushing back to me because this was the bella notte I hugged a girl and our ears “matched.” They still do, by the way. We check from time to time.

So, what to do over Summer Break?

I think this Summer I shall be grateful.

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