Labor Day Weekend, The Thirty-Fifth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

When I was growing up summer was always book ended by the academic year’s completion in June and a new school year following Labor Day.  In between were hot days at camp, or at home in the backyard under the sprinkler, with regular trips to Hidden Lake or the Haddontown Swim Club for substantial wet reprieve from the beating sun.  

Here we are at this 2023 summer’s finale on this Labor Day weekend.  The air is cooler as if a declaration that summer is at its end.   In my teen and preteen years I would have been working at my father’s shoe store ringing up saddle shoes for the cheerleaders, parochial oxfords for local children attending Catholic schools, and Buster Browns for the public elementary school crowd. 

There was anticipation in the air.  We went to Korvettes or Grants to load up on school supplies, including Lego-sized sharpeners for our number 2 pencils.  Figuring out what to wear on the first day was a pressing matter after first grade.  Oh, how I loved my plaid wool skirt, with red fringe and a large gold-plated safety pin as an adornment.  It was worn with a Danskin ribbed turtleneck, and red tights that never stayed up, causing me to waddle home at the end of that first day.  I didn’t care.  I loved that 60s fashion trend.  

Now in my 60s, I appreciate those memories, and miss the clear delineation of seasons as signified by the school year.  Time now is not marked by classes and tests.  The year is of my making.  Though I appreciate the freedom that allows, I do wax nostalgic for the endless summers and the structure of school in session.  

As I let go of this summer and welcome Autumn in all its glory, I hope you, too, can enjoy sweet memories while relishing the transformative Fall season.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Give yourself a break.  If you have a “should” for this weekend or week, pause to see if it must get done, or whether you can put the “should” on pause and do something restful and/or fun instead.  
  • Learn a new word, and when possible, use it.   I can recommend “WordDaily.com. However, there are a good number of vocabulary apps and sites.  This week featured the word “Disembogue,” meaning a river or stream flowing into the sea or a larger river.  
  • Delete unwanted or unused app or apps from your phone.  Or you can unsubscribe from  mailing-lists you find annoying.  Letting go of the junk emails, and ignored apps can feel like a reset.  

The Fluctuating Value of Sleep

 

images.png

When I was ten-years-old I was going to sleep-away camp for the first time. I was leaving for 2 weeks at a bare-bones Y camp in Medford, New Jersey. The night before I left I was atwitter with anticipation. What should I wear? I want a low key, yet cool look. In 1970 that meant hot pants and a tight colorful tee. I’d save my red hot pants for a dressy camp night. And, while awake, going over my list of flashlights and swimwear, I decided I’d arrive wearing denim shorts with my tie-dye t-shirt. It wasn’t snug, but it was cool enough to appear nonchalant.

Unknown-3.jpeg

That decided, I stayed up all night nervous about the friends I’d make, and wanting to have a good experience. I was happy to go off on my own. Even at ten I had an independent streak. I didn’t mind losing any sleep. I wasn’t tired in the morning. Getting little sleep just heightened my excitement. My parents couldn’t get ready fast enough, even though we couldn’t arrive until after 1 PM.

Unknown-1.jpeg

Camp was great. I could eat all I wanted. We were allowed foods never offered at home, fried chicken, camp-made blueberry pie, pancakes, and bacon. Every day was an adventure. And, it wasn’t just that we were in the woods, but we learned to row and canoe. I learned and loved archery, group activities, theater and songs. They were all pleausrable. I slept well after fun-filled days. I didn’t think twice about how much sleep I was getting.

Unknown-4.jpeg

And, when college came, I got great enjoyment in staying up all night going from one disco to another, until I came home to change so I could get the train to school. Even though I might have had to force my eyes open throughout the day, I took pride in the fact that I stayed up all night. Later, in my twenties, getting little sleep was a semi-regular event. I’d work all day, take an acting class, go to rehearsal for one showcase or another, go out with friends, and crawl home between 1 and 3 AM. With 5 hours or less sleep, I’d get up for work thinking about how to learn my lines for the showcase, while offering professional level customer service during the day.

images-1.jpeg

This summer of 2017, I am not so happy when I lose sleep. And, I do not have the same get up and go as I did in my first 30 years. Now when I can’t sleep I feel like I’m losing something, rather than simply adding hours to my day. Not getting enough sleep has become a regular event. Once losing sleep was the cheap price I paid for a good time. Now, a coveted commodity, sleep is worth its weight in gold. Having a good time is predicated on a good night’s sleep. I can only enjoy dinner with friends or family, or a night at the theater, if I slept well. This might even include a precious nap. I no longer stay up thinking about what I’ll wear out. Comfortable sleepwear is more my concern. Soft fabrics keep me cool and woozy. These days I no longer measure my strength in how many hours I can keep going. These days I measure my sleep, happy when I sleep in past 8 AM.