And That's a Wrap for Summer
Perhaps you feel this, too, in the later days of August. A realization, tinged with a sense of melancholy or wistfulness, that another season is quickly slipping away. It’s the cooler mornings or a certain shift in the light. An awareness (as if we’re ever not aware, those of us situated solidly in midlife) of time vanishing.
If you’re a regular reader here, you know these are defining, recurring themes for me but they’re hitting a bit stronger this year: tomorrow, I’ll move both kids into their respective homes away from home for their senior year of college. Yes, you read that correctly: One day + two college moves + four hours apart. Load car in the morning, drive 45 minutes to the girl’s college, drop and go. Drive back home, reload car, drive 4 hours in the other direction, unload, go to our favorite pizza spot for dinner, collapse at hotel with Tom Lake (Ann Patchett’s newest novel that everyone is raving about), Sunday breakfast at our favorite diner, shopping for groceries, drive 4 hours home. Vacation day from work on Monday.
Still. Senior. Year. I mean, how?! With this last move, the usual demarcation lines of then and now feel especially pronounced. Earlier this month I reserved two hotel rooms for College Boy’s graduation weekend in May and there were all of 14 rooms left in the immediate vicinity—everything else, at least a half hour away.
And yet, part of me is ready for summer to be over. These were a few tough months in a year where I’ve felt as if I’ve been living in limbo, or on the periphery from everyone else. I know why I feel this way—spending an inordinate amount of time in literal and figurative waiting rooms will do that to that person—but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Journaling helps. Being conscious about my social media consumption when everyone is living their best life helps. Medication and therapy, check, check.
Our highlight this summer was spending two days back in Philly visiting my mom. A quick, relaxing, fun trip that included bookstore shopping with College Girl, dinner at a place with awesome gluten-free pizza and lots of laughs, breakfast with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Another bright spot: Lunch with my niece and brother-in-law when they were in Pittsburgh for the Phillies game. And College Boy and I enjoyed some lunches together, too. It sounds like food has been a focus, and indeed, it has — in more than a few ways, and for reasons best left off the internet for now.
As is often the case, books have been my respite. This summer I read 21 books. Here are a few of the best, with more to come in a future post.
The Angel of Rome by Jess Walter (Harper, 2022, 274 pgs)
Excellent collection of 12 short stories set mostly in Spokane, Washington from an author who has yet to disappoint. (Loved The Financial Lives of the Poets, Beautiful Ruins, and We Live in Water). Jess Walter’s characters are memorable and his plots are hopeful, often with a surprising twist. You may cry. You will definitely laugh—often.
Stories I particularly loved were “Fran’s Friend Has Cancer,” (which I almost skipped but am glad I didn’t because it’s less about a friend with cancer than human nature); “Town & Country,” which will resonate with anyone who has cared for someone with Alzheimer’s; “To the Corner,” a tense story but OMG, the twist! and “Famous Actor” with the awesome line of “First sex is like being in a stranger’s kitchen, trying all the drawers, looking for a spoon.” The audiobook is wonderfully narrated by Julia Whelan and Eduardo Ballerini, who cowrote the title story. 4 out of 5 stars.
Tasha: A Son’s Memoir by Brian Morton (Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster, 2022, 208 pgs)
You can feel the range of emotions throughout Brian Morton’s stunning memoir about his changing and often-fraught relationship with his cantankerous, stubbornly independent mother, Tasha, when she develops dementia and he becomes more involved in her care. It’s also about the strain on families and the fragility of our elder care system in America, as anyone who has been in this position knows all too well. With humor and heartbreak, Morton absolutely nails it with every word. Brilliantly written. 5 stars out of 5.
You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith (Atria/One Signal Publishers, 2023, 320 pgs)
If you’ve been on the internet in recent times, you’ve likely seen someone post Maggie Smith’s now-viral poem “Good Bones.” What her readers didn’t know was how much that poem, and the newfound attention given to Smith as a writer, impacted her marriage. Exquisitely told in short vignettes, this memoir about divorce, motherhood, writing, grief, loss, and home is simply fantastic. 5 stars out of 5.
None of This Would Have Happened If Prince Were Alive by Carolyn Prusa (Atria Books, 2022, 336 pgs)
As Hurricane Matthew bears down on Savannah, Ga., the storm is the least of 38-year-old Ramona’s problems. Leaving work early to prepare, she discovers her husband’s affair. During the next few days, Ramona’s life becomes even more of a whirlwind as she copes with evacuating with three kids (including one in the midst of potty training and a teenage neighbor), a classroom pet, her elderly mother, and incessant calls from her clueless boss. If only life could be as simple as when Prince was singing about Little Red Corvettes and partying like it was 1999. A relatable, fun, and entertaining read that had me at the title. 4 out of 5 stars.