Larry, will you take Laurel to be your lifelong partner? Will you love and respect her, be honest with her and stand by her, through whatever life may hold so you can genuinely share your life together?
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...although the time shifts of DST have been regular occurrences my entire life, only since 2012 have they become somewhat important to me.
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Though Michigan is thought of as an industrial state due to its automative industry, dating back to the beginning of the 20th century, it has a long agricultural history as well, with dairy farms in the middle of the state, and lots of cherry orchards around the Grand Traverse peninsula on Lake Michigan, more than 2/3rds of the way up the coast towards the Upper Peninsula. We ate tons of delicious cherries (in many variations from cups of the fruit to slices of pie to crumbles to anything else the chefs could think of; the fruit was plentiful) at camp (about a half hour inland and south of the the bay), all summer long. Michigan State University is a land-grant school, started to study agriculture. We teasingly referred to it as “Moo U”.

Somehow, going on Daylight Saving Time messed up the cows milking schedule (to say nothing of our own circadian rhythm, as noted by doctors and scientists as a compelling reason against the permanent change), so during the 18 years I spent as a resident of the state, there would be occasional referenda voting down the “spring ahead, fall behind” schedule change and we would be one of the few states not on DST, which was very confusing.

It also meant, for those of us at away in the northern wilds of camp at Interlochen (this happened once or twice during my six summers, from 1964-1969), that it got light earlier in the morning, but also, earlier in the evening. Those of us in the High School division sort of loved this if we were on a date. We were quite far north and on DST, it wouldn’t be totally dark until around 10pm (after we were called to our cabins), which made it a bit difficult to go to “Date Gate” (where you’d go at the end of a date to make out with your partner, under the watchful eye of the counselors). You WANTED it to be dark, so you’d have more privacy for whatever intimacy was being initiated (not much for those teenagers, but still…).

Years later, I was on the National Alumni Board and during the summer, if Dan was not available to babysit (several years, he rode his bike that same weekend in the Pan Mass Challenge, a huge fundraising ride for the Dana-Farber Cancer Center, and was gone all weekend), so I took my kids to camp with me. They came to the Operetta and hung out with my beloved Intermediate Director, Emily Boyd, who was now the head of the Minnie Building (a hospitality site) while I was in meetings.

The rest of the time, we explored the camp together. They loved being in the glorious pine forest, at the Wishing Well, the Melody Freeze (where one could get ice cream treats, food or go inside to the store). But at night, out in the woods there was no light pollution, as we truly were in a forest. They begged to be allowed to stay up late and see what it was like to gaze at the inky black sky. I took them to a field at the end of the row of cabins where we stayed. Art students put plaster casts for their projects out in the field. This was 1994. My kids were 9 and 5. They found it creepy and fascinating. They asked me to take a few photos on my Instamatic (long before iPhones). The featured photo shows David that night, eyes wide open in the dark, beaming his delight. Perhaps not as a function of the time change, but still in the dark, in the woods that I so loved my entire life too.

 

British Summer Time

I confess I’m rather chauvinistic about New York.   The city’s been my home pretty much all my life and I love the hustle and bustle,  the theater,  the 24/7 vibe,  the people-watching,  and I don’t even mind the noise and the traffic.

Don’t get me wrong,  I love to travel and I always find other cities and countries wonderful to visit,  but I never could imagine actually LIVING anywhere else . . .  until we spent a year in London.  (See Valentine’s Day in Foggytown,  Laundry Day in London and  Kinky Boots)

London I found had New York beat – lots of the good shows even open on the West End before they get to Broadway,  and the bad rap on British food is undeserved.  The architecture and the parks and squares are beautiful,  and the taxi drivers never get lost.   And for this city lover,  London is the most wonderfully cosmopolitan town.

But the wet and dreary weather is bloody awful,  I carried my brolly and my sweater everywhere,  and it got dark so damn early!   But thank goodness for British Summer Time,  when like DST in the States,  we’d fall back and spring ahead,  and supposedly grab at least one more hour of sunlight.

So I think I have to edit Samuel Johnson.

“When a man is tired of London – crummy weather aside – he is tired of life.”

– Dana Susan Lehrman

The Cafe

Recently at a neighborhood cafe I saw an attractive older couple deep in conversation,  their hands touching on the table.  (See West Side Story)   

Both wore wedding rings,  but their body language told me they weren’t married to each other.  I’ll never know their backstory so I imaged this one for them.

Early in their marriage her husband often travelled on business.  She didn’t mind having a few days to herself –  she’d come home from work and have a sandwich as she watched TV,  or meet a friend for dinner,  or take a book to a restaurant and prop it up on the table while she ate.

Then once when her husband was away the date seemed familiar and she realized it was her old boyfriend’s birthday.  They hadn’t seen each other in a decade and she calculated it would be his milestone 30th.  Knowing he worked in the city,  she looked him up and called.

He said he was married but would love to see her.  She agreed to meet him for old times’ sake,  and they found their attraction as strong as ever.

And from then on they’d meet when each could steal a few hours,  and they’d jokingly say they were just two old lovers making up for lost time.  And as long as their spouses were kept in the dark,  they’d tell each other,  no one would be hurt.

And like the couple in Neil Simon’s Same Time Next Year,  their affair went on for decades.

Then one day they met at a cafe and he told her he was retiring and he and his wife were moving out of state.  It was a gut punch for them both,  and they spoke about things they hadn’t discussed in earnest before.

They shared dissatisfactions in their marriages,  and the certainty they still loved each other,  although leaving their spouses and breaking up their families had always been too daunting to even consider.

And now,  both in their 70s and soon to be living hundreds of miles apart,  they knew they might never see each other again.  They rued their youthful breakup,  and imagined how happy they’d have been had they married all those years ago.

And although they’d kept their relationship a secret,  and despite their insistence to the contrary,  they knew in some ways the infidelity and deceit must have taken its toll.

And sitting in that cafe they had the first taste of their comeuppance,  and they knew they’d both suffer the pain of regret.

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

Be here now, baby.
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