I had not anticipated waking up at the beach this morning. This time last week, the forecast for this weekend looked pretty bleak. Yesterday lived up to the hype - not just at the beach but throughout the State of Concrete Gardens. Pretty much everywhere you looked, three of a species were standing around playing rock, papers, and scissors for the two seats on Noah's big boat.
Today?
Today is proof to me at least that weather has no memory. Or, at the very least that it holds no grudges and hopes, perhaps, neither do we.
The greatest gig I have ever had - or shall ever have - is being a grandfather. I am the proud "Pop Pop" to five - four girls and my man, Cal, who is too young to comprehend that he is outmanned and outgunned. He will figure it out.
My grandchildren, in addition to reminding me that the charcoal briquette in the center of my chest is actually a heart, help me maintain perspective. They are unflappable. My oldest granddaughter, Maggie, must wear a mask in order to attend school. She loves school. She is whip-smart so although she knows damn well that a mask was not part of her school attire last year, its presence in her life this year has not kept her from attending school and from enjoying it. For a little human, she possesses an uncanny ability to see the big picture. Maybe it is because at her young age, she remains unjaded by life's day-to-day? I know not. I know simply that when I spend time with her, talking to her, it is an elixir for Pop Pop's cynical soul.
None of my fabulous quintet of grandchildren is older than three. Two of the five began their lives' journeys here in 2020. A not-too-subtle reminder that even where things appear to be at their worst, there is always something in which to take comfort, in which to find hope.
We the adult people of these United States should look to children, study how it is they go about their day-to-day, and follow their example. Not only do many of them appear to be far better grounded than many adults, they are far more resilient than many of their full-grown counterparts too. Sunday morning, I was in a bakery in Bound Brook to pick up a loaf of Italian bread for dinner. In the less than five minutes I was inside the establishment, there were two other customers. All three of us distanced ourselves from one another (spoiler alert: I practiced social distancing for decades before it became the thing to do). I knew neither of them but they knew each other. Each of them appeared to be older than I am. My best guess would be that each (one man and one woman) was north of seventy.
It was immediately apparent that it had been some time since these two people had seen one another. Yet, for the entire time that I shared space with them and was within ear shot of their conversation, all either talked about was just how inconvenient it is to wear a mask. It was the sum and substance of their conversation. Not a word about family, work, or anything other than a lamentation - performed as a round - about how difficult it is to have to remember to wear a mask every time he or she leaves the house.
As I walked back to Margaret's car (we were on our way to Costco when we stopped at the bakery), I wondered at what point it would occur to either of them what a profound waste of time their bitch session was - or if in fact it ever would. Life is a forward-moving exercise. Once time passes us, we cannot go back and reclaim it. No one is making more of it. Not for you. Not for me.
-AK
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