Borrowed Time

As you know, I have been back at school for meetings with new faculty for 11 days, but this weekend is when the rest of the old faculty is pouring in for the return of the full-faculty and full-department meetings. The other day one of my colleagues asked me a great question:

What is your “most summer” summer moment of all?

What a great question…it wasn’t, “Was the summer good?” Not that I mind that, but I loved the reflection involved with, What is your “most summer” summer moment of all?

So what would it be? What should the criteria be for finding the answer? Well, I decided it couldn’t be as simple as saying, “being with family,” or “seeing shows in New York,” since I happily enjoy those experiences three times a year. What happens only in summer? Hmmm…so much of what I do in my USA time is stuff I do all three times a year—summer vacation, winter break and spring break—so it can’t count as my “most summer” summer moment of all…wait. There is one thing, one thing that is only in the summer, and I have done it every single summer of my life, and yes, this is the answer. Drum roll please…my “most summer” summer moment of all is that trip down to the bottom of Montana Avenue where I have spent parts of every summer for the last 40,000 years to Putz’s Creamy Whip. That’s it. While my order of choice is usually their incomparable banana shake, at least once a summer I get a vanilla cone. I have gotten a vanilla cone every single summer of my entire life. THAT is the “most summer” summer moment of all!!!!!!!!!

When your tongue touches the frozen white nirvana on top of a Putz’s cone, every moment of every joy of every summer of your life is condensed into one simple swipe. It’s the sweetness, the creaminess, the cloud-like texture. I dare you to close your eyes, taste it, and not think of your summer memories—of getting invited to a friend’s new pool in July. It is the simplicity of the vanilla cone that makes this place the uber-memory of summer. In my childhood, when I was maybe 9, as I-74 was being built, the plans had the expressway to land three feet from Putz’s back door. As bizarre as this sounds, the U.S. Department of Transportation actually moved the freeway—a little—for Putz’s. I guess they do that thing for holy shrines. Putz’s opens in the late spring—my family tortures me on the phone recounting their first visit of the season. It will close soon around Labor Day. I can go there only in the summer and well, it wins the prize…

This summer, among my trips to southern Italy, New York, Disney World, Dallas, and Cincinnati, I enjoyed many summer moments. One moment that gripped me, gripped all of us, was the senseless July killing at the movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. There are no more words that I will add about the tragedy, but one survivor’s comment has resonated in my mind in those six weeks since. One survivor noted simply, “We live on borrowed time,” reminding us to observe that truism, love each other, cherish one another, savor each day. The comment has stuck with me, and shortly after I heard that interview, I went through my 6924 songs in my Itunes library and found two versions of a song entitled, “We Live On Borrowed Time.” Oh, baby. If you don’t know this song, well, go get it now. The two versions I have, and my favorite two are by Nancy La Mott and Norm Lewis (who I saw perform Porgy in Porgy and Bess this summer on Broadway). Go find these if you don’t know them! Man, I repeated these songs several times and just basked in that gentle warning to indeed remember our borrowed time. Here are some of the words of this song,

We live on borrowed time
No one can be sure when the loan will finally come due
But I'm loving all of mine, I know what time is for,
I've borrowed it so I can spend it all right here with you
There was a time when I believed that life held guarantees
There was a time when I was sure my future was secure,
But life had other plans, the future's in God's hands
And knowing that just makes me love you even more

We live on borrowed time
Yesterday is past, tomorrow seems a million miles away
But I promise you that I'm gonna make love last
By living every moment, every hour, every day

Now we may have a year, or we may have a lifetime,
No one can be certain what the future will allow,
But you and I are here, and this time is the right time
'Cause one thing that I know is that we have each other now, and now,
And we live on borrowed time

Let's celebrate and sing as we walk bravely into the unknown
'Cause we're gonna be just fine, whatever life may bring,
We'll face it all together and we'll never be alone


Summer time for me is about time with people I love—yes, I know, not a very original statement, but let me linger for just a moment more about some memories of the summer of 2012, and the enjoyment of this borrowed time:

I left Jordan in the wee hours of June 21st and met friends in Rome. The iconic Anne Siviglia and her delightful cousin Janey and I spent a week exploring the Amalfi Coast then we went to Rome and met the inimitable Gary Klein. Oh, my. There I was with these three New Yorkers in St. Peter’s—basking in the stimuli around me. St. Peter’s Basilica has a way of shrinking mere mortals. I am always a little thrown by its vastness. Then you see the armies of pilgrims genuflecting, tilting their faces skyward. Soaring nearly 100 feet above us is the baldacchino, the four twisting columns of bronze and gold that form a crowning canopy for the altar. There we heard a choir rehearse for a performance the following day for St. Peter and St. Paul Day. A majestic, yet intimate moment, with wonderful travelers.

A few days after I returned to Cincinnati I headed up to see my dear friend Tracy (“Leaving so soon,” my father asked sardonically). A heat wave baked—well, everywhere I went this summer—but it was really bad in Heath, Ohio. We had tickets to see Singin’ In The Rain, but the power had been out for days around Heath. Uh-oh…finally power made it back to the theater, Tracy secured a place for us to stay that did have power and A-C, and we got to have a theatrical tryst. Two of the three leads were young, dynamite, and exuded such joy…the third tried mightily, but made me remember how effortless Gene Kelley always appeared…never enough time with Tracy, but another example of a wonderful borrowing of what we have.

New York for me is always a cacophony of joy and binges—theatrical, artistic, gastronomic, financial, everything…and this summer Christy and I did as much as we could. We looked for theatrical bargains—I got up at 5 to stand in line for the 12 seats sold every day for $30, and yup, I got the last two. Each production was a joy, but perhaps the nicest moment was sitting down that first night trying to see how we could cram a lot of livin’ and explorin’ and excitin’ stuff into a week. We took a great loan and loved it.

Within 36 hours of the return from NYC was the family trip to Walt Disney World—the 6th such trip to Disney since 2004!! One moment that moved me happened during a brilliant behind-the-scenes- tour of the Magic Kingdom by genius Rae. We had entered the park before the crowds, and when the park opened, Rae urged us to stand by and watch, study the faces, and think about that “each person has a story, each person comes here trying to touch, to embrace, wonder. Think about that as you study their faces.” Man, what a powerful thing! The next day I sat and watched my family at the pool, unbeknownst to them, and sat end reveled in their joy at splashing and relaxing together. My father, a big-believer in this ‘borrowed time’ business always reminds us, “Do as much as you can for as long as you can…”

A day after that extravagant affair I hopped a plane to Dallas, soaking in the love and fellowship of the Enszer family, a family I taught in Charlotte between 1991 and 1996. We ate, sang, visited, relaxed—simply savored two decades of friendship and personal evolution. Their weddings are all over, so once and awhile, without a major reason, you just have to hop a plane to Dallas to see the Enszers.

That next Saturday, as the grains of sand seemed to speed up through the hour-glass of summer, I basked in what has (luckily for me!) become a tradition of summer. My kind friend Sylvia has made it a tradition to invite my father and me over for a grand Austrian-style luncheon. Sylvia invites her gentle mother and our English teacher, Mr. Justice as well. Sylvia fills her table with Austrian-style salads and wiener schnitzels and strudels. We visit, we laugh, we comment on the beautiful meal, the elegant effortlessness of Sylvia’s handiwork—and then we laze in the living room, letting a summer afternoon dawdle away…now, that’s another summer memory that is hard to beat.

In all the coverage of the tragedy in Aurora, one phrase from some news writer kept stinging my summer contentment. The writer observed that the dead were in a “hostile world in which they struggled to survive…” I suppose that is true for all of us. The world—even though we try and insulate ourselves—is pretty hostile, and the best we can hope for is to struggle to survive. But we are struggling together. And the time we borrow, each of those moments, we might as well acknowledge, is precious. I look forward to next June, 2013, when I get the swipe of that vanilla nirvana at Putz’s. I will borrow a little more time in that hope.

Now summer is over…the barrage of full-faculty, full head-of-department meetings, full History department meetings begins…but you know what that also means—the classroom teaching is just around the corner. 10 days from now!!!