We are nearing the summer Solstice, the time of the longest daylight, directly after which we begin to experience diminishing the light once again. We are also nearing the mysterious Mid-summer Night’s Eve, a time of legend; pixies, fauns, and faeries. Each year seems to speed by like someone on rollerblades; no sooner do I write about the Summer Solstice, than I’m pulling out the Halloween pumpkins and the light is fading at 4 PM. My perception of life flying by, is why making each day fully-lived, is so important. We easily label a day “good” or “bad”, but he goodness or badness of a day often depends on how we choose to look at it.  We can emphasize the discouraging, unhappy moments in a day, or we can focus on the beautiful things and people around us.

Perception can make us sad or happy, and it is variable. Do not misunderstand, there is deep grief, clinical depression, and other situations that make choosing happiness difficult; perhaps even impossible, without help and time.  And we should get help if we need it; therapy is good for nearly everyone. But often, contentment is a daily decision. Here in the Finger Lakes, we have (for most of us) far too many gray days.  But instead of designating cloudy, drippy weather as a bad day, we might instead remember that moist atmosphere keeps our skin in better shape than dry air, and that gray days give us more time to accomplish “to-do” things, leaving us freer to enjoy the sunny days. Even occurrences that we might consider annoying, may turn out to be valuable lessons or gifts, in some way.  We never know all there is to know at first glance.

We all have more choices in our lives than we may realize. It is generally more comforting to blame someone else for our over-busyness than to accept that our own lack of thought has trapped us.  Our decisions about what we “must” do, are not necessarily what we truly must do.  Of course, if we are responsible and caring persons, then there are things which we accept; as parents we need to nurture and raise our children, if we have a career, it is our responsibility to do our best with that job, if we volunteer, the same sense of task-ownership stays with us.  Often, however, we take on more burdens than should be ours, creating continual stress in our lives.  It is often our own choice to be over-extended.  “Not my monkeys; not my Zoo!” is a rather flip, but astute, way of accepting that some things are not ours to handle, agonize over, or fix.

Kerm remarked a while ago, that people make the decision to get out of bed in the morning --- or not.  (I hope that wasn’t an oblique way of saying I get up too late!)  But he’s right about the choice; we can open ourselves to the day, or we can dive back under the covers and put a pillow over our heads to exempt ourselves from what the next 24 hours might bring.  Some mornings, the blankets and pillows are surely tempting.  Little excuses easily pop into our minds, and can add up until they become a completely solid reason for staying in pajamas.  But each day we live is a precious day.  Morgan Freeman* said: “Waking up in the morning is a miracle of its own.  Be thankful for another day to experience life and be grateful that you get another opportunity to continue on your incredible journey.”  And ---- if your journey isn’t sufficiently incredible, each of us has the power to make things different, if only a small bit. Have your choices led you where you want to go?

Father’s Day is fast-approaching, and I think of my father’s choices. He lost his father when he was 2 or 3 years old to pneumonia and typhoid fever. Dad was fortunate in that his father’s brother, his Uncle Fred, stepped up to give some male guidance, and his mother eventually remarried another fine man.  Both were good role models.  I know that he respected education, but was financially limited to high school.  Dad’s brother chose to follow his stepfather into carpentry. My father decided, after returning from WWI, and after briefly working in the automobile industry, to become a farmer.

After marrying, he and my mother lived and worked on two rented farms before buying the one on which I grew up. After WWII, when my brothers came home and Dad had acquired a painful back problem, my eldest brother took over the farm work, and Dad went to work for first the Federal Land Bank and then Farm Credit.  He was a banker of sorts, issuing loans to qualifying farmers.  He also became a working part of his community; an Elder and Trustee in the church, a Grange member, active in Farm Bureau and worked tirelessly to get a central school and school buses. He strongly encouraged and assisted his five children to educate themselves as well as they found possible.

His choices took him from limited resources, as a boy, to giving back and being respected in his community, and supporting a family. He assuredly was not perfect; he was easily irritated, quite thunderous when displeased, and had little patience for foolishness.  But he loved his family and his choices reflected his determination to do the best he could for them. This did not mean an easy a life.  It did mean getting out of bed every single day, regardless of his mood. First it was cows to be milked and crops to plant, and later, farmers to be counselled.  And I must add here (with a generous measure of grumpiness!) that when my father was out of bed, he thought everyone else should be also --- regardless of prom night or midnight work on last-minute essays.

He was meticulous about good manners, respect for people and tradition, including the etiquette around our nation’s flag. Friday was Flag Day --- an often- forgotten, but special day.  Perhaps schools currently neglect teaching its history, and how the flag is to be displayed or flown. Some individuals and groups have thoughtlessly used it as a measure of protest over a disliked governmental issue. Others, in a mistaken sense of patriotism, have draped it around their shoulders or painted it on the street. Our flag, which is a symbol of who we are as a nation, has been displayed in several less than admirable ways. It is not supposed to be carelessly worn, especially worn in a way that requires sitting, lying or treading upon it.  Those using the flag in casual or disrespectful ways, or for purposes of protesting government policy do not think, perhaps, that they are also dissing the courageous men and women who have fought to keep that flag flying. Protestors are often, one-thought people, and they often lack a grasp of history.  They do not consider how the spray of their words and deeds may be toxic to others other than their objects of protest. There are probably better, more intelligent, and more honest methods of getting people’s attention for something that needs correction.

I have always liked the Civil War era poem, “Barbara Fritchie” by James Russell Lowell*.  It is too long to put here in its entirety, but a few lines will ---- perhaps ---- make you want to check it out for yourself:

Quote

 “…..Up rose old Barbara Fritchie then, bowed with her four score years and ten.  Bravest of all in Frederick town, she took up the flag the men hauled down.  In her window the staff she set, to show one heart was loyal yet.  Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.  ….’Halt!’ – the dust-brown ranks stood fast.  ‘Fire!’ – out blazed the rifle blast.  It shivered the window pan and sash; it rent the banner with seam and gash.  Quick as it fell from the broken staff, Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.  She hung far out from the window sill and shook it forth with a royal will.  ‘Shoot if you must this old gray head, but spare your country’s flag!’ she said.……….”  

And for the rest of the story, you must look it up.  😊  But it is a poem that demonstrates how important the flag has been to those who love their country, even with its many errors.

And speaking of June celebrations, Juneteenth is coming soon,  Wednesday, June 19^th. Because this is a relatively new holiday, many do not know its history or why it has suddenly become a federal holiday.  Its status has been long in the making but it stems from the extended period of time it took for the word to get out to all slave-owners, especially in Texas, that emancipation had come.   It was months after the law was enacted before everyone was informed or believed it.  Juneteenth celebrates the ending of one of the darkest parts of our history ---- slavery. Owning another person is the opposite of everything our nation stands for, and something I find difficult to imagine; repulsive even.  So, Juneteenth requires us, as a nation, to recognize our past, to go forward in a direction that erases the prejudice and mis-information we have accumulated over the years, and to keep celebrating both the change in law, and hopefully, in our hearts.

So because it comes but once/year, enjoy the wonderful month of June, whatever it brings.  “What is so rare as a day in June?  Then, if ever, come perfect days….”**  sing and dance --- even in the hay fields.  Remember the wisdom that considers each day we are alive as a gift.  It is your choice!

Carol Bossard wrties from her home in Spencer. 

*James Russell Lowell --- American poet, diplomat, literary critic and editor.  He was associated with the “Fireside Poets” of New England, who promoted reading, as a family, in the evening.  1807-1891

**from “The Vision of Sir Launfal” by James Russell Lowell