by Bruce DeViller
As a child, summer always arrived carrying with it such bittersweet anticipation. It held so many promises of new experiences, greater freedom, and extraordinary growth. Yet, we knew it was short-lived. And, when it ended, we would find ourselves back in the place we were before it started. Whether it was school or “back to reality”, it was a place we didn’t want to be. A place filled with restrictions and deprivations. To add insult to injury, we almost certainly felt like we didn’t grow or otherwise change as much as we thought we would. And this bipolar routine replayed itself out annually until graduation.
I can count the years since graduation on a couple of hands – that is, if a couple of friends lend their hands – and yet, I still look at the onset of summer in the same way. There are great goals to achieve before the crushing return of reality (usually around Labor Day). One such aspiration is to build and launch the next killer social networking website, whose success will rival the likes of Facebook or LinkedIn, and allow me to retire by the age of forty-five. Then there is my desire to “give back” by using the bulk of my vacation time to travel to some far off community-in-need and lend a hand through Volunteer Vacations. These are the not-quite-tangible plans, like setting the objective “learn how to throw a curve ball by Labor Day.’
And, there are more concrete plans in place, too. Things that I know will happen because I’ve already reserved my place. I do know that I will relive some of the care-free moments I experienced as a child on summer break. I will spend a week in August relaxing along the shores of Southern Maine, in the small town my parents would take my siblings and me to each year. I am looking forward to smelling the salty air, listening to the sounds of the surf, and the tasting a true bowl of clam chowder.
I also know that when I am here in Chicago, each Sunday evening will include a healthy dose of theater, even if only as spectator and not performer. This will be my fourth year as a subscriber to the Chicago Park District’s Theater on the Lake season. With each year I feel more strongly than the last that the combination of location, price, and programming variety makes Theater on the Lake the best summer experience in the city.
And, on July 5th, I’ll be at Wrigley Field for the Police reunion concert, looking to experience the same level of excitement and awe I felt when I was sixteen, and their Ghost in the Machine tour was my first concert.
Hey, I’m beginning to see a pattern here. Maybe summer is more cyclical than we know, and its design isn’t to build us up just so it can crush us at the peak of our joy. Perhaps the cycle of the seasons is meant to occur for good reason. Is it possible that we are meant to remember and relive the freedom and wonder that past summers brought us as a way to recharge our spirits so that we can endure the long gaps of restriction and deprivation that happens in between? Ask me after Labor Day.