School has started again and September is upon me. This past summer has come and gone so quickly. I spent most of it searching for a kind of summer-state-of-mind that never came. Again, I’m not sure why exactly. And yet I’m still groping for it—for some relief, a chance to disconnect… and then reconnect, renewed. But no.
Summer has come and passed. The innocent can never last. Wake me up when September ends.
– Billie Joe Armstrong
My frustrated search wasn’t for lack of trying. We did a great deal this summer, none of which I documented in this mixed-bag blog. For the sake of posterity, here are the highlights.
We vacationed early this summer on the Marquette beaches of Lake Superior in a 70-year-old beach house. We saw my favorite, albeit aging, hard rock band Rush in Grand Rapids. (This was Aidan’s first big-venue concert. I was very happy to share this experience with him, especially since I grew up on Rush and they’ve meant so much to me through the years.) I ran my second marathon; this one on beautiful Grand Island. My time was abysmal and I nearly blew out my knee. We road-tripped east, bound for the Ocean, visited Niagara Falls, walked Boston’s Freedom Trail, hit Rhode Island and saw the endangered Piping Plover at Napatree Point, romped in the big waves at Newport’s Easton Beach, slurped some “chowda.” We took in our share of local attractions, took Aidan to Six Flags for the first time, road a few big coasters. We made a splash at Raging Waves and generally played around home—all your summer stuff… And yet, summer never came for me. It’s a mental thing. My head must have been elsewhere.
I don’t know, maybe it’s got something to do with this being the first summer without mom and dad. Sheesh… I don’t know. We’ve all been a bit out of sorts it seems. Here are the obligatory summer pics, anyway.
A friend of mine recently told me that there is still hope for me to find summer this year—even if it comes sometime in September. Here’s hoping…