Avoiding the Summer Blues

Before I get into today's topic I just wanted to mention that I wrote a new Substack on the need to bring back the blogosphere. Twitter's implosion is giving us a chance to abandon the toxic micro-blogging format altogether and wrest online discourse away from corporate control. 

With that out of the way I thought I would get into a rather niche topic that's especially relevant to my fellow educators: avoiding the summer blues. Teaching is a strange job in that it packs more than twelve months worth of work and effort into ten. I don't have my "summers off" as much as I am getting leave time away from the frontline trenches. I started this summer, as I do all of them, in a state of absolute exhaustion. 

Once the shock of the end wears off and I start to recover, I am prone to getting depressed. I wondered if I was some kind of freak, since summer is supposed to be the freest, happiest time of the year. I was glad to see a recent Washington Post article about the prevalence of summer seasonal depression to know that I am not alone. Seasonal depression is more common in winter for obvious reasons: cold, lack of light, inability to do a lot of activities. As the article points out, summer has its own environmental stressors, especially as our summer weather and heat are getting more extreme with climate change. Punishing heat and humidity and horrible air from wildfires can make daily life miserable. When it gets cold outside I am still able to go for long walks, I just need to bundle up. When it gets really hot trying to go for a long walk just becomes unbearable. 

I wonder if this study noticed if this dynamic was worse among educators. It is not easy going from having almost no time to myself to having the hours of each day stretched out before me empty in need of filling up. Oftentimes I end up filling the time by spending more of it on social media, which usually just ends up making me more unhappy. I remember the summer of 2020 in particular, when COVID made it impossible for us to travel and to enjoy indoor activities. I retreated to social media, which was aflame with things like Donald Trump having protestors gassed so he could have a photo-op in front of a church. Reading about thousands of people dying a day in the pandemic, protestors being brutalized by police, and stressing about the 2020 election just made me completely miserable. On top of that, I was tasked with doing extra prep work by my school to get ready to teach under COVID circumstances, as opposed to the emergency flailing I was thrown into in the spring. It was by far the worst summer since the one in college where I worked two jobs while living friendless in my hometown. (I guess summer depression is not a new thing for me.) 

This summer I will get to travel, go to the movies, and hang out in coffee houses, but those things aren't enough. I have been experimenting with some new techniques inspired by my interest in philosophy. In the first case I have taken to heart Marcus Aurelius' advice that when confronted with a problem, you should ask yourself if it can be overcome or not. If yes, then the solution is to take care of it instead of ignoring it. If the answer is no, then stop worrying because there's nothing you can do anyway. In my daily life this means taking care of things that need to be taken care of: cleaning up the house, seeing doctors and dentists, exercise, course preparation, and yard work. I have leaned into the latter thinking of Voltaire's line "we must cultivate our garden" in Candide. Instead of doom scrolling and fretting about the world's iniquities, I am using the power washing to get the grime from my awnings. Every single day I have a checklist that includes 1. Taking care of myself 2. Taking care of the house 3. Reading 4. Writing 5. Doing something active with my kids. 

So far my mood has been much improved. For others out there getting hit with the summer blues I prescribe a lot of practical labor and regular habits. Every day I can feel like I've done something while feeling far more relaxed than I do on work days, when I am liable to pass out on the train ride home. I am beginning to wonder if this is what retirement is like. If so, sign me up. 

'Tis the Season for Narragansett Beer

Captain Quint drank 'gansett

I do not typically endorse products, mostly because no one is paying me to. (If any eccentric billionaires or benevolent corporations have an offer, you know my contact info!) However, there are some products I enjoy so much that I can, nay must sing their praises on this blog. 

It's Memorial Day weekend, the true start of summer. This weekend and those that follow for the next few months will be full of cookouts and sweaty outdoor activities tailor-made for drinking beers. The catch, however, is that on a hot day a beer must not merely taste good, it must also quench the thirst.

Craft beers may be great, but they fail this crucial test. Normally I stan darker beers, but drinking an imperial stout on a 90 degree day just feels flat out gross. Craft brewers have gone all in on IPAs in recent years, whose hoppiness makes my mouth puckery and dry. This is anathema on a hot day. Fruitier beers avoid this problem, but their sugar combined with hot sunshine can make me feel zapped. 

On a hot summer day it's best not to get fancy. A can of good old fashioned mass market lager can do the trick. Its watery nature quenches the thirst and goes down easy. The problem is that such beers are often bland, taste like crap, have a weird aftertaste, or lose one street cred. This is why you have to take a step down to the bottom shelf at the liquor store and grab what a friend calls "a shitty local beer." In this dusty area you will not see cans of beer with cute names or animal mascots, but beers that look like they haven't updated their graphic design since the Ford administration.

This is why I love me some 'gansett. 

It's got enough flavor that it's not Bud Light piss water, but doesn't have the weird aftertaste of Coors Banquet. They also often sell it with their rad 1975 can design, which makes you look pretty cool while drinking it. Hell, if it's good enough for Captain Quint, it's good enough for me. 

So this summer bring some 'gansetts to the cookout and reap the rewards. 

The Pleasures of the Late Dog Days of Summer (Hot Stoic Summer)

Loyal readers know that I have been trying to cope with my usual bouts of anxiety and depression during the summer by turning to Stoic philosophy. It's actually helped me a lot, especially Marcus Aurelius' command to do what's set out in front of you. I've been far less likely to doomscroll Twitter, and instead go swimming, walking, or do work around the house. 

Now we are entering the time of summer that no one enjoys, not even the freaks who like baking in the sun: the late Dog Days. The first ten days of August are usually pretty miserable. Extreme heat after months of heat fatigue and the coming school year looming over my head. (For some of my friends and family in other parts of the country it means starting school now. Yikes!) People I know are likely to be out of town and there just seem to be fewer people around. The euphoria of summer felt back in June has fully worn off. I have hated this time since high school, when marching band required a "camp" that was spending all day marching in the blazing Nebraska sun.

In the spirit of Hot Stoic Summer I have been thinking of the unique pleasures of this time of year, and how I can embrace them to shake the malaise out of my head. 

The first for me is baseball. The trade deadline is today, the moment when teams proclaim to the world whether they are contending or rebuilding for next year. With my Mets in first place, it's an especially thrilling time. The baseball season is long and each game is a drop in the bucket, until August. With pennant races heating up each game takes on more meaning. Even if my team is doing poorly I can enjoy the races and start having hopeful thoughts about next season. As a baseball fanatic I also enjoy how it's the last moment of baseball having the sports stage to itself before giving way to football. 

Another is food. Growing up in Nebraska this was sweetcorn season, and we would be able to go to a farmer we knew and pick it straight off of the plant. Here in Jersey we always try to go peach picking right about now. Since moving here I like to take that sweetcorn and use it to make a low country boil. The heat makes it hard to bake but I can't resist making a pie around now, either. It just tastes better on days like this.

With it getting so hot another dog days pleasure is taking my kids to the town pool. It's within walking distance for us, and when we go we always seem to run into people we know. After the pandemic starved me of chance meetings it's a small pleasure in life I cherish more than I ever did before. Speaking of pandemic deprivation, I am using these last days of summer to visit my far-flung friends, too. Since so many of them are professors and teachers, it's far easier for me to do a short trip or casual drop-by. The heat is actually a benefit here, since it reduces the pressure to go out and do things when we are together. We can just sit and chat and stay out of the sun and feel like we haven't missed out on something. 

The last two years have taught me that life is short and that I want to spend what little time I have left very intentionally. That insight has made me try to find what I can salvage even from this most miserable of weeks. I hope you find something more fun than band camp for yourself in these dog days. 

Hazy Thoughts in the Summer Malaise

Too much on my mind

Summer, true summer is here now. Those days when it's so hot that I don't want to be outside despite the sunshine and when I feel constantly uncomfortable in the outdoor heat or in the unnatural air conditioned interior. The un-cooled interiors, which become unbearably stuffy, manage to bring in the worst of both worlds. Afternoons on days like this are to be endured, rather than enjoyed.

Today I had the depressing realization that I am already fantasizing about next summer, since this one is going to be a wash and the coming school year promises to be the most dangerous and difficult one yet. So much of my mental space this summer is taken up by the fall, both in terms of work I am doing for the school and in the constant churn of anxiety that dominates just about every waking hour of my day.

Even in the best of times summer brings a case of the blues. After the trench warfare of the school year, which demands every ounce of energy I can give, the indolence of summer is hard to handle. I end up with too much time on my hands and too much time spent at home. It allows my mind to wander to things I was too busy to think about during the school year. Memories of old fuckups and failures come dancing right into my consciousness, replaying humiliations and mistakes from decades ago.

This quarantine summer means being at home even more and even fewer outlets. I've tried to channel my energy into cooking, cleaning, and gardening, which has helped a little. The challenge of putting my mind at ease is harder this time around due to my constant worry about the state of the country. If I sit around long enough I just keep thinking about how the pandemic is getting worse after a hundred thousand people have died. I think about how a mass movement for racial equality has ended up with yet another culture war about statues. The economic situation is bad and I know plenty of people who have lost their jobs. At times like this I almost long to be one of those millions of vapid people so disengaged from the world to be troubled by it.

And yeah, I know it could be worse. I had a family member back home with the virus but they're fine now. As tough as my job will be next year, at least I still have one. It's been good to have all this time with my wife and kids. I was able to go out to Pennsylvania last week and see two old and very dear friends and kayak on a lake, play cards, grill meat, and drink whiskey. Music has been an important consolation, as always. It's amazing how much great new music is out there right now. Be that as it may, no song is really speaking to me as much right now as a golden chestnut by The Kinks, "Too Much On My Mind."

All I want right now is something to look forward to. I have no clue when that will ever be the case again.

Kinks Music For The Late Summer Malaise

We are entering one of my least favorite periods of the calendar year: late summer. It brings days when you think the summer heat is finally going to end, but it only comes back, somehow worse. Being an educator it means going back to school. This used to be much more exciting for me, but with my current life it means a true return to the trenches. I love my job, but it requires getting up at 5:30 or sometimes 5AM, followed by a daily military operation to get my recalcitrant children awake, dressed and fed in time to catch the train. That train stands a good chance of being late or not having anywhere to sit down. Then I have the fun of the subway on a hot morning, the stagnant air smelling like urine and my clothes covered with sweat before I arrive at work. By the time I get home I am exhausted, with the new drill of getting my children fed, all of their obligations taken care of, and then put to bed. After all that I get about two hours of free time where if I try to read or watch a movie I just pass out.

Before classes even start there are the usual days of meetings and other obligations in late summer that mostly just make me anxious. My birthday also happens to fall during this time of year. It is no longer a happy occasion, just a clear reminder of my aging.

To make it through this, like just about every time in my life, I need a good soundtrack. I have found over the years that The Kinks are perfect for this crummy time of year. Part of the reason might just be personal association. I bought The Kink Kronikles right after I moved from Chicago to Urbana in the late summer of 2000, living by myself and lost in a new place. I played it to nearly to death.

"Too Much On My Mind"

Anybody else out there get paralyzed by anxious thoughts? I do all the time, and this song describes the sensation better than any other I've heard. I recently saw it used perfectly in the Wim Wenders film The American Friend. The main character is sweeping up his frame shop as it comes on the radio. He sings along, trying to smile away his worries.

"Sunny Afternoon"

This song was a big hit in the UK, mostly because it examines the British obsession with social class in an inverted way. Working class Ray Davies imagines himself as a dissolute member of the gentry, living a life of pleasurable decadence. His life seems to be falling apart and the bills are coming due, which is a good metaphor for the end of summer.

"Lazy Old Sun"

The draggy sound of "Lazy Old Sun" is malaise personified.

"Tired of Waiting For You"

This is an earlier song from the band's more riff-rocking, British Invasion days. The last week of summer break I mostly spend thinking about the school year and just wanting to get it started so all the anxious anticipation will stop.

"Strangers"

I figured I should throw a Dave Davies song in here too. This one is more tender than his usual offerings, considering that he was the "rocker" in the band. It's got a languid organ underneath it, and for some reason the sound of an organ comforts me like no other instrument. There's a reason that Wes Anderson used this one in a movie.

"Don't Forget To Dance"

The Kinks broke out with killer riff rockers like "You Really Got Me," then settled into their stellar 1966-1972 run of albums that commented on postwar British society. After that they spent some years in the wilderness of bad concept albums, only to emerge as an arena rock band in the late 70s. They had one last big hit in America with the retro "Come Dancing" in 1983. (That was the song that introduced me to the band, and I loved it.) Apart from that the group limped along into the 90s, where it basically dissolved. Their late period does have some gems, and "Don't Forget To Dance" is my favorite. It's a song about resilience in facing up to life's inevitable letdowns and that's something I need right now.

Last Day Of School

Yesterday was the last day of school, a day that feels very different as a teacher. When I was a child it was the king of all holidays, the day of the year when I knew I would never have more freedom. The entire summer, two and a half months of sun and fun without any bullies or authoritarian teachers to ruin it, was stretched out before me, seemingly endless. Leaving school on that day was always such a high, a feeling of complete and unaltered joy that I have only had small glimpses of since.

Nowadays the last day of school comes as bittersweet relief. My wife and I have honed our morning routines with military precision in order to be able for both of us to leave the house at the same time and for me to get to New York City, her to her school in suburban New Jersey, and my daughters to their preschool. Balancing the intensity of the school year with parenting is a daily test of our abilities. Summer feels less like freedom and more like being a World War I soldier on leave from the trenches, knowing full well that we'll be back at the front for the fall offensive.

Thus the relief. The bittersweetness comes with saying goodbye to the students at the end of the year, especially the seniors. This year there is a group of seniors who I have advised for several years and feel very close to, and their hugs and tears have moved me but also made me sad for their parting. Working in secondary education means constantly meeting new young people and helping them grow, and then having to watch them leave right at the moment they become adults.

Amidst the bittersweetness of the last day of school, I also get a needed reminder of where I've come in my life. Once summer starts I usually begin thinking about how fortunate I was to escape the world of academia and land where I am now. It is sad to see the students go, but they make me feel so appreciated. They make me feel like my work MATTERS. I got that feeling so rarely in my former life. It's the feeling that has me looking forward to September and a new beginning with a new class of students, an anticipation so foreign to my childhood summers, but one that tells me I've made the right career choice.

Track of the Week: The Cars "Magic"

It got well over 90 degrees here in Jersey today; summer has surely come.  As the asphalt gets sticky and the sweat rolls off of my head, my thoughts often turn to summers past. One sure way to really spark those memories is with a "summer song." In the internet age it has now even become a regular things for folks to publicly discuss what they think will be "the song of the summer."

In 1984, one of those songs was "Magic" by The Cars, which my local hits station would play for many summers after 1984. While that station was very milquetoast in its playlists, the DJs were still allowed leeway to play songs they liked of an older vintage. Central Nebraska was thankfully late to the game of corporate radio. (Alas, the Telecommunications Act of 1996 would finally change that.) This song thus evokes summers growing up generally, and not just the summer of 1984.

"Magic" comes from the Cars' Heartbeat City album, which saw them shedding the angles and nerves of their New Wave-ish past in favor of a bright pop sound perfectly made for the airwaves of the Reagan era.  (Mutt Lange was the producer, fer cryin' out loud.) It was of its time, but an example of that shimmery sound wedded to good songs and interesting ideas. (Prince managed to do this the best on Purple Rain.)

It's a song that announces its bid to be a summer song from the start, as the first word of the song is in fact "summer." Of course, it's not just, or even mostly the words that make this an ideal summer song. The guitars burst forth, more processed than a McDonald's value meal. The bass is slappy and up front. The drums are metronomic and gated like an Atlanta suburb. The synthesizers are bright and whistle on the catchy "uh oh it's magic" hook in a way that's to get out of my head.

Since I'm a teacher, summer is actually a pretty magical time. The first three weeks or so feel like being a World War I soldier on leave from the trenches, but gradually I start feeling relaxed and happy, even if I am knee deep in toddler toys and spend each afternoon praying they'll take a nap. Hearing this song reminds me of those glorious childhood summers, the ones before I turned 13 and started doing summer jobs in the corn fields. Those summers seemed endless, and were probably the least stressful days of my life. A busy day was one where I mowed the back yard for two bucks then walked down to the Walgreen's to buy five packs of baseball cards, which I would take home and dutifully organize. Little did I know then how good I had it.

August Baseball

Rudy York hit 18 home runs in August of 1937 as a rookie.  He is also one of the most prominent American Indian baseball players of all time

August is my favorite baseball month of the regular season.  It comes before the start of (American) football season, giving the events primacy in the sports world.  Most of all, it is when things really get serious.  As I've mentioned before, the baseball season is not a matter of two halves, but of three parts.  The April-May part is subdued and hopeful in the early spring cool breeze, a time when surprise teams might briefly hold the spotlight and teams with high expectations are allowed to stumble a bit.  June-July is the winnowing phase, a proving ground where the teams that are going to have a shot emerge, and the also-rans make themselves known.  August-September is endgame, when the contenders fight to make the playoffs and the cellar dwellers have a hard time drawing a crowd to the park.  It comes after the trade deadline on July 31, when teams on the bubble scramble to get that last piece of the puzzle and the front runners stock up on spare parts.

It has been a few years since I've been able to enjoy August baseball as a fan of a contender, so seeing Noah Syndegaard blow his 109th (and last pitch) right by the fearsome Bryce Harper on the way to a Mets victory that put them tied for first with the Nationals on Sunday was a special treat.  The Mets haven't even had a winning season since 2008 and a playoff spot since 2006.  My other team, the White Sox, are indeed losing again this year, but not totally out of contention due to a strange bunching around the middle in the American League.  In any case, they haven't made the playoffs since 2009.  It feels good to watch these late season games with some emotional investment, rather than resignation.  When Syndegaard made the mighty Harper look a fool I jumped up from the couch and punched the air, which doesn't really happen in June, even in a similar situation.

When a team is contending the sometimes sleepy, laid back atmosphere of the ballpark is completely altered into a fervent, high stress zone where fans are keyed into every pitch.  The crowds at the last Mets home stand were going absolutely bananas, and sustaining loud chants of the sort usually reserved for soccer terraces.  Last night's game on the road in Miami showed the flipside of this phenomenon, where the Marlins barely drew a crowd on a Saturday night against the Mets, and quite a few fans were rooting for the opposing team.

The way fans of contending teams root is never the same, however.  When I was at AT&T Park in San Francisco last week the place was packed, but the Giants fans were fairly composed.  They had the confidence and swagger of a team that has won three championships this decade, whereas Mets fans are currently sloughing off a decade of futility and frustration in an ostentatious manner that fans of the likes of the Giants or Cardinals would likely find distasteful.  Thus is always the case with long-suffering fan bases.  I had just moved to Chicago during the end of the 1998 season, and Cubs fans treated the chance at a wild card spot like the Second Coming.  (I still remember watching the infamous Brant Brown botched catch and actually hearing the sound of a collective stomp and "aw fuck!" in the air.)

Baseball is a long season, from the first signs of life after winter to when the leaves begin to fall.  Hardcore fans watch a lot of games, a lot more than fans of any other sport.  It is a sport where one has to keep one's full emotions in reserve, because to treat every game with intensity will burn you out before Memorial Day.  Once August comes, it means either letting baseball fade into the background or, if your team is in a pennant race, suddenly throwing one's soul into each and every inning.  After Sunday I'm all in as far as the Mets are concerned, hopefully now that they have my heart, they won't break it.

Track of the Week: Allman Brothers Band, "Midnight Rider"

Summer's here and the time is right for listening to my favorite summer records.  I don't know that it is, but some songs just sound so much better in the summertime.  Perhaps my all-time favorite in this regard is "Midnight Rider" by the Allman Brothers Band, which is tailor-made for summer road trips.  It was on one of these road trips that my deeper affection for "Midnight Rider" began.  I was driving with my friends Debbie and Paul down to Augusta, Georgia, from Illinois.  We were there for a wedding, and took the whole long trip in Debbie's tiny Toyota Tercel in a shade of teal not seen since the mid-90s, an appropriate ride for a troika of grad students.

It was quite a trip, driving through the flatlands of central Illinois, the eerie, verdant emptiness of southern Illinois' "little Egypt," over the scenic Tennessee mountains on down to Atlanta by way of Chattanooga.  In the pretty drive across the north Georgia plains from Atlanta to Augusta, we put an Allman Brothers CD on, and staring out of the window at the tall trees wrapped in kudzu, there didn't seem to be a more perfect song in the world than "Midnight Rider."

Over the next few years it became a staple of mine on summer road trip mix CDs and playlists, both for the song's theme and for its almost perfect execution.  The Allman Brothers had an amazing knack for having great musicianship without making it showy or ostentatious.  The chops suit the song, including the laid-back yet masterful solo in the middle that somehow turns the feeling I get on a lazy drive on a country road into music.

Little did I know at the time "Midnight Rider" put its hooks in me that one of my other friends attending the wedding would get a job in the Allman Brothers' hometown of Macon, or later that he would show me the graves of band members Duane Allman and Berry Oakley.  Life has its twists and turns, some good, some bad, but listening to those beloved summer records reminds me that there are a few small pleasures I can still count on in this world.

Track of the Week: Creedence Clearwater Revival "Ramble Tamble"

This Memorial Day weekend has been pretty rainy, but today we got a burst of unadulterated sunshine and blue skies here in the Garden State, as if to say that summer was indeed here.  While cleaning up the house en familie I cranked up my summer music playlist, knowing that I can now more fully enjoy songs like "Ramble Tamble" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.  It's a song bursting with jangly enthusiasm, pretty much how I feel in late May when school's almost out and the last of winter's chill has passed.  (My moods are unusually in tune with the changing seasons.)

"Ramble Tamble" also happens to be a song that really took me by surprise the first time I heard it.  I'd loved CCR from a young age, along with the Beatles, Monkees, and Motown they were my entree into the world of sixties music, a fine antidote to the dreck dominating the charts circa 1986.  I knew them mostly as a singles band and only through compilations until one day I was trolling through the back of an antique store in Texas and found a copy of Cosmo's Factory on vinyl.  I brought it home, dropped the needle, and out came "Ramble Tamble," a groovy, loud, exhilarating piece of rock greatness stretched out to seven minutes, well past the usual 2-3 minute length of CCR's many single.

The next day I talked to a musically-inclined friend like a religious convert, asking if he had heard the good news that is "Ramble Tamble."  I just smiled wide and said "I KNOW!" with great enthusiasm.  Usually when I find out, after many years, that a musical artist is not who I thought they were, it's negative.  For example, I find my deep teenage love of The Doors a little embarrassing these days.  In the case of CCR, I discovered that a great singles band could also sound like Velvet Underground if they had come from the swamp instead of New York City.  "Ramble Tamble" will definitely be there this summer, as I drive down the highway on a road trip, grill some hot dogs, or sip an IPA on the back porch.  I can't wait.