Summer Through the Ages and Stages of Life

The mere thought of summer creates a feeling and imagery that stands alone. While each season can be linked to specific weather and activities, I feel the anticipation of summer is a one-of-kind annual experience. Everyone can find something to enjoy in the summer — the benefits of daylight savings time, the freedom of shorts and t-shirts, and the opportunity to socialize and have fun outdoors. We often look forward to these delights, even during other seasons. But as I’ve grown older, I have also noticed that summer’s joys can begin to change as you pass through the decades.

Childhood Summers

Growing up, there weren’t many things in my life more enjoyable than summer. Counting down the last few weeks of school felt like the most significant moment of anticipation that life could offer. Summer meant no homework or alarm clocks, minus possibly having to get up for camp (something I wasn’t too fond of). We had a pool, and I was the family fish, spending hours swimming and playing water games with friends. We took beach vacations and spent extra time with our favorite people. On a summer day, it was so easy to find a simple slice of happiness running through sprinklers or slurping down popsicles. From sunshine to suntans, every day felt like it held an opportunity for fun. And with an August birthday, I always had something to look forward to a few weeks before the dreaded back-to-school countdown.

Summers as a Mom

One of the best things about parenting is being able to experience life a second time through the eyes of your children. When summer arrived, I found the mom benefit I could look forward to and enjoy. The end of school took on a new meaning when I could hang up my chauffeur hat and slow down. No alarm clock was even better when it meant I didn’t have to make lunches and get kids to school. July would feel like the most carefree month of the year before all of the back-to-school ads and commercials started to ruin the summer vibe. Even as my young kids became teenagers, you could still find me swimming in a pool or riding waves in the ocean. And a backyard barbeque featuring a fire pit and roasting marshmallows could quickly become a freeze-frame moment to hold onto for the rest of the year.

When Summers Become Your Own

As a woman gets older, things inevitably change. The daily parenting challenges are replaced by the opportunity to rediscover yourself. Who am I now and what do I enjoy about summer, especially when it no longer unburdens me from a stressful school year? My time is my own 12 months out of the year, but there is still no vibe quite like a summer one. Reading a book by the pool instead of playing lifeguard is beautiful. Taking the dog for a walk after dinner, savoring a bite of ripe, juicy watermelon, or watching a gorgeous sunset are summer activities that will never cease to feel special. And when I want to feel like a kid again, I break out the s’mores ingredients or head off to one of my favorite ice cream places. Adults don’t always have to act like grownups — especially during the summer.

You’ll Never Be Able To Stop Time

Life moves along quickly, just like the summer. That’s why it upsets me when I hear people declare that summer is basically over after July Fourth. In my world, that’s when summer is just getting started. Five decades in, I still try to take July and August one day at a time to find joy and make new memories. Appreciating every summer day will never change for me, no matter how many summers go by.

Photo by Ethan Robertson on Unsplash

Threading The Needle Through Five Generations

When I decided to sit down and write an article for Mother’s Day, I wanted to concentrate on the four amazing generations of women in my family. One of my greatest blessings was to have my grandmother Ruth in my life for thirty-eight years. She was there for my wedding and for the birth of all three of my children. And when my daughter was born, I never took a day for granted because I felt like we had been gifted something incredibly special over the nine years that we had left with her.

Looking back, I gave credit to my grandmother for bringing our strong independent woman mantra to life. A stranger would have never known that Ruth lost her own mother at the age of seven. Without any maternal guidance, she became the most loving matriarch of our family, not to mention an extraordinary chef and one heck of a fashion plate. Some might have described her as a force to be reckoned with, but in a good way. And through the magic of genetics, her strength has threaded its way through our family all the way down to my now twenty-five-year-old daughter who enjoys letting people know (with humor inserted) that she’s a strong independent woman.

Tracing resilience back to Ruth had always been my go-to until I sat down to write this article and started thinking about my full genetic female lineage. The story of Ruth’s mother Dora, as we have pieced together, also paints a picture of great bravery and perseverance. Dora was the youngest of seven children and the last to leave her parents behind in Lithuania in the late 1800’s. She had two sisters who were often described as being tough as nails, but it was her sister Mary who sent for Dora to come to the United States. After bravely making the journey by herself around the age of twenty, Mary introduced Dora to her brother-in-law, Morris, and it was love at first sight. They married and had four children, Elsie, Jack, Ruth, and Leonard. Sadly, tragedy tore through their happy family when Dora succumbed to an unidentified illness and passed away at the age of thirty-eight.

Since two sisters had married two brothers, Mary remained highly invested in Dora’s family. She even made it her business to find a new wife for Morris – a woman who would quickly become the stereotypical evil stepmother. My grandmother grew closer to Mary as she and her siblings struggled to adjust to life without their mother. It was through Mary that Ruth would learn about the women on her mother’s side of the family. All were described as having varying degrees of dominant personalities, with some even boasting that they liked to rule their households with an iron fist. As my grandmother grew up, the power of her genetics began to flourish. She took over the household chores and succeeded in navigating the new dynamics of her family, later comparing her experience to that of Cinderella’s.

Elsie had it a little easier because she was already a teenager when Dora passed away. The age difference stalled the bonding process until Elsie and Ruth got older and began to develop a relationship more like Dora and Mary’s. Their inherited grit and spunk became an invaluable asset as they raised their families and later helped each other with the loss of their husbands. Losing their mother had helped them master the ability to use humor to cover pain as they marched through their lives with unbreakable spirits. Both lived into their 80’s, continuing to be strong independent women until age and illness sadly caught up with them.

While it would not be a stretch for Dora’s daughters to show signs of their mother’s genetics, the next generation of women in our family seemed to benefit as well. Dora’s granddaughters – Dory, Diane, and Donna (all named after Dora) along with Harriet and Ilene. Each one in their own way became women not to be messed with. Cancer survivors, business executives, nurses, and music educators. Smart and talented women who bulldozed past roadblocks that dared to get in their way. All devoted to their families and up to just about any challenge. Thinking about them collectively leaves me amazed by the genetics. Even adding other family’s genes into the pool only seemed to enhance the strength and determination of our female line.

Dora’s great granddaughters have also continued this trend. At 55, I think I’ve been a good example of persevering through life’s unexpected hurdles. But I can also say that I sit on this branch of our family tree with some other impressive dynamos – Renee, Jennifer, Alexis, Jamie, Carly, Rachel, Talia and Danielle.  We range in age over four decades and I think Dora would be very proud of every single one of us. Women waking up with a purpose to face each day as our best selves while possessing the ability to deal with whatever curveballs might be thrown our way. Based on our family history, this is how I see a young Dora facing a journey across the ocean and a health crisis that ended her life. I believe she did everything possible to battle her illness during a time when her medical options were so limited. A brave woman who left her parents behind knowing she would never see them again could have done incredible things if she had lived among her accomplished great granddaughters at a time when things could have been so different.

And finally, not to be left out is the 5th generation of this family. My daughter is the oldest female and is currently pushing through a grueling master’s program on her way to becoming an occupational therapist. The rest of the girls are still young, but based on what we know, I’m sure that Alden, Lark, Zoey and Emily are all high spirited and strong-willed young women in progress. How could they not be?

So without ever knowing Dora, I feel like my amateur genetic study has allowed us to get an idea of what she was like. Based on my deductions, I believe she was smart and funny, like her daughters, while also possessing the kind of resolve that has flowed through the generations she never had a chance to meet. With Mother’s Day on the calendar, it makes me feel especially good to acknowledge a legacy that feels more meaningful than any of us have stopped to realize. Five generations is something to be proud of, and since it all started with Dora, it makes me happy to be able to honor her and for the first time in my life, wish her a Happy Mother’s Day.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

This Epic College Prank Isn’t Possible Today

Once upon a time, we lived in a world without cellphones and instant gratification. Friendships were based on face-to-face encounters and bonding with people who knew how to have fun. That was definitely my experience back in my college days when I surrounded myself with pranksters — we made every day feel like April Fools’ Day. You never knew what we would all do to our friends (or to each other) next; a subscription to an inappropriate magazine addressed to the house next door or a half-pound of olive loaf mysteriously turning up in the refrigerator. Good, playful fun that defined the essence of youth and life in the 1980s.

It was my good fortune to attend college only an hour away from my two favorite practical jokers, Scott and Eric. We would take turns visiting (and pranking) each other, but my trips to Syracuse University inspired our most unpredictable antics. During the spring of our senior year, with our entry into “the real world” growing ever closer, my friends became inspired to outdo themselves — at my expense, of course.

“Reliving an experience where I play the role of the fool brings back nothing but laughter.”

In true college fashion, we stayed up all night watching movies and enjoying a few glasses of wine. As someone who loves my sleep, I never pulled an all-nighter for schoolwork, but friends were a different story. I didn’t want to miss a moment of fun, but by 7 am, I was running on fumes. I just wanted to get in bed and sleep for a few hours so I could enjoy the day ahead without feeling like a total zombie.

Somehow, as the sun began to brighten the morning sky, a scheme simultaneously came to light. “Let’s change all of the clocks in the apartment and take Shari to the big parade in the center of Syracuse. We’ll make her think she got a few hours of sleep when she actually got about 10 minutes.” And so the prank began.

Even My Watch

After they moved all the clocks ahead three hours (including running out to the car to change the time on the dashboard — and somehow the watch on my wrist), the make-or-break move had arrived. From my perspective, I felt like I had just put my head on the pillow when they told me it was time to get up.

“But I don’t even feel like I slept.”

“Of course you did. It’s 10 a.m. Time to get ready for the parade!”

To say I was in a daze would have been the ultimate understatement, but that was exactly why their plan worked so well. Add to that the fact that I don’t drink coffee and I was a zombie. Missing the announcements of the time on the radio as I could not stop yawning and declaring in the whiniest of voices, “I’m sooooo tired. Why am I so tired?”

Their biggest test came when we actually got to the parade. As we stood on the sidewalk, in full view was a giant bank tower with the time not only boldly displayed but flashing. Over and over for the entire time, we stood watching who knows what go by. To this day, I remember none of that parade, and yet, somehow this story lives in infamy even three decades later.

I can only imagine what it felt like to be on the other side of this prank. Watching me struggle to function for the next few hours as they created an actual time warp. My own watch displayed time moving normally … 12, 1, all the way until 3 p.m. as I remained oblivious, apparently missing every opportunity to catch them in their deceit. Every time I yawned, they would exchange glances and laughter, clearly enjoying the fact that they had picked the perfect victim. 

By 3 p.m., I think the boys were hit by some uncharacteristic remorse. We always pranked each other, but this time they could see that it had been mostly one-sided. So with some underlying chuckles, they shocked me with the news that it was actually noon. Plenty of time to nap was all I could think to myself. So instead of being mad, I was thrilled!

Clearly, the advancement in technology would make this prank completely impossible in today’s world, which is what makes this story such a treasured memory. Going back in time can feel antiquated, but in this case, it feels comforting. We enjoyed simple fun without phones or social media to draw our attention away from each other. Even reliving an experience where I play the role of the fool brings back nothing but laughter.

Photo by mostafa mahmoudi on Unsplash