The Longest Day
The Alzheimer’s Association wants to make this, June 21, the shortest day for each of us.
I’ve kept their ad for five years (that’s a surprise in itself), wanting to use it for a column but not sure what I really had to say on the topic.
Now it seems elementary.
“Do what you love from sunrise to sunset,” the ad suggests. I’m fairly certain every reader has his own idea. Mine would be to simply stay home, conquer only those “musts” I absolutely have to and spend the hours — yes, from sunrise to sunset — enjoying my life here.
I get too busy. I don’t have time for a walk even knowing how much good it would do me. I don’t have the time I would like to practice. Because of that, my music only gets worse. There are challenges but challenges can grow overwhelming if not — OK, if not challenged fairly regularly. Weather permitting I’d like to take the kayak out to explore the far reaches of the shore and the little island I really can’t see from the house.
I’d like to sit on the dock and check out the birds, on the water and above, hoping some might come in close enough for a good shot or two. I don’t travel far without one camera. On that subject, I’d like to review the photos I have already taken. Three cameras, three chips (at least) and many I suppose could (should?) be deleted. Come to think of it, wouldn’t just sitting be nice? Enjoy the sunshine (IF), the cool breezes (IF), the chattering of the birds (for sure) and, well, just relax. Yes, I know: it can be done.
What I love doesn’t entail cooking, not if there’s a choice. Today I’ll make certain there is — sandwiches or salad (perhaps pasta salad prepared yesterday), take-out or a neighboring restaurant. Anything easy — and of course the fewer dishes to wash the better.
But my “longest day” won’t stop at sunset though I revel knowing it’s the lengthiest in terms of daylight. I’m going to take my day from rising to bedtime.
Breakfast never varies once Minor and I are back with the papers. (He always carries one.) One glazed doughnut won’t destroy my waistline. And any reason I can’t carry it all (plate, coffee, juice) out onto the deck? Better yet, wouldn’t I enjoy waterfront dining? No reason I can’t make that short walk back down with a sandwich and iced tea for lunch either. Let’s make this a day I won’t forget. Dinner, too — whatever it is — outside someplace.
I don’t know what’s flowering then but certainly something I can pick to bring in to enjoy. I do — once I make the effort to cut. Oh, yes; too, too busy. I know.
Nor have I forgotten my pets. Not much to do with Gloria except pet her when she’s happy and hope she gets through a day without drawing my blood. I know her enthusiasm for the canned goodies. It’s her bedtime treat but for just one day?
Minor — every day is a special one because of that dog. He’ll have to be subjected to his daily regimen of medicines, eye ointment and drops. Doing what you love doesn’t involve neglect. Car rides can be fun — particularly if it involves going to the bank which somehow he “knows” when I’m still over a mile away, just turning off Route 60. I thought of a nice long walk but, honestly, being tied to a leash wouldn’t be Minor’s idea of what he’d most love. He wants the freedom to roam. At home. It’s what I’d want for him, too.
Nope. What Minor loves most (with attention a close second) is to eat. Because of his joint problems I need to keep him trim but who says we can’t share a chicken breast?
Oh, lots of ideas. How quickly they came!
Just one more thought: can’t I do this for more days than just one?
Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. Her Reason for Being was published in 2008 with Love in Three Acts following in 2014. Both novels are now available at Lakewood’s Off the Beaten Path bookstore. Information on all the Musings, her books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.
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