Musings from Mj Mojer
I’m not a big fan of roller coasters; either actual or emotional. No m’am. They’re just not for me. To say that the past couple of weeks has been the ride of a lifetime is an understatement. I’m a glass half full, silver lining, grass is always greener kinda gal. Right now though…the glass is half full alright; half full of muck. My silver lining is tarnished, and the grass may be greener, but it needs to be mowed.
Still, when the stress and fear start to invade my brain, I keep feeling this pull to the past that gives me comfort. A bit of a bright light, when I think, “oh, yeah….there was a time, not too long ago…”
I’m not for a moment saying that this will solve, help or change anything; but it does give me a bit of hope and certainly something to look forward to.
When I heard that the Daffodil Festival and Figawi were cancelled, I was a bit disheartened…about the Daffodil Festival.
I sure do understand the burst of business and energy that Figawi brings, but I also have my own frustrations with calling Memorial Day Weekend, Figawi Weekend. Figawi is a race that is held on Memorial Day Weekend. That’s it. It has become larger than life, the stuff of tales and legends.
As we go through this forced slow down, it feels as though our only option is to turn back the clock a bit. We don’t have much of a choice.
Memorial Day Weekend, when I was a kid (back in the last century) was the start of summer. It was the first weekend every kid on Nantucket jumped in the water. We didn’t notice whether it was cold or not. It’s what we did. Pants were traded for shorts, shoes for flip flops (or Dr. Scholl’s wooden clogs.) Hibachi’s were dusted off or replaced, and, even with a few weeks till Summer actually began, we were in full on summer mode.
Though we are fortunate and grateful to live on this beautiful Island, there was a time, not too long ago:
When Memorial Day weekend was for picking lilacs and marching in the parade. Big pots of red geraniums, white alyssum blue lobelia or purple petunias were on every doorstep, porch and filled the cemetery.
When Daffodil bulbs lined ‘Sconset Road, and we all just took a drive; a simple, easy drive with no china or crystal, to see them, and watch them grow.
When going out was not the norm, but was for a celebration.
When staying home was what we looked forward to, and home was where we wanted to be. Though we may not have a parade this year, we can still find lilacs and honor our Veterans. We can still jump in the water and break out the hibachi and flip flops. And best of all, we can simply sit, in our homes, with our families. This too shall pass, but while it’s here, I choose to embrace the simplicity.