Part of the sadness and elegiac quality of something like commencement is that we remember what it was like to be young and free, "Golden in the mercy of his means," with the world as our oyster. We lament that we've lost the sense of adventure, bravery, and risk that electrified those long lost days. And yet the truth is we need not abandon such things. We should be lifelong learners, career explorers, always re-imagining the world and discovering its wonders anew.
I've always loved this time of year. Late summer. For whatever reason, it is just incredibly poetic. The end of "vacation" season, an acute sense of both loss and hope, the onset of such wonderful things as Football season and apple picking. It's a great moment of transition, and some far more perceptive writers than I have captured it beautifully in verse.
My grandmother, Judith Schielke, died yesterday. She had a long, full life on this earth, full of all the sorts of memories, joys, and legacies a well-lived life should leave behind. In the 27 years that I knew her, she was always full of love, always bragging about her grandkids, always ridiculously good at being a grandmother. No one could make a pecan pie like her.
The start of every summer is always so full of excitement—the promise of endless free time, lazy mornings, late nights, swimming in pools and oceans, climbing trees and mountains, reading books. Every year around late May, the summer looms so large. It seems so immense. Those endless days! Those boozy low-pressure thunderstorm nights! And so little that must be done!
