When I find myself with a couple hours of free time, I’ve been watching the Criterion Channel. It’s my favorite streaming service, because you know just about everything will be good. You aren’t guessing or looking at Rotten Tomatoes scores and weighing if something will be a waste of your time.
I watched The Searchers by John Ford last week. There’s a lot to unpack with that movie, but I’ve been struck by the framing of the doorway at the beginning and the end. Especially the end, when everyone comes inside, into the darkness of the homestead. And John Wayne is left outside, unable to come in. Because he doesn’t belong there and never will. And it struck me how temporary life is, and how you choose to live it matters. It was especially poignant seeing a young Natalie Wood being shuffled into the darkness. At that moment she had her whole life in front of her.
I spent the summer living my life, thinking about that in one way or another. Not in a morbid way, but I only have so many summers left. I spent the early part of summer fixing up my bike to ride. I got a grill for the new home and actually grilled for the first time in 20 some years. I spent the summer doing prep work for the next graphic novel, The Shape Of My Son. And I spent most of my summer being a dad.
I had a lot of setbacks on comics, including a recent injury that left me on crutches. But I also grilled out at least once a week. I would mow my lawn and my son would help me clean the clippings off the walk with his toy leaf blower. I watched a lot of old movies. I watched so much baseball; the Cubs have been having a particularly good season and I’ve caught nearly every game (PCA!). And that’s been my summer. Not drawing or reading as much as I’d like. Didn’t ride that bike once after I fixed it up from a 15 year hibernation. But snuggling up with my boys on the couch with the Cubs on, or grilling a meal for my family. Looking out over the yard and taking stock of all I need to fix in the coming weeks during the fall growth. All in our new home.
Most everyone in my family is a teacher and summers are sacred. They make a lot of plans for this precious time off, and mostly do them. And I still have that idea nestled in my head: that summers are a time for productivity and passions. But the “mostly” part is what is important. I can’t and can never do it all. And that’s fine. Even the things I didn’t accomplish were worth trying. I didn’t ride my bike but I enjoyed the process of restoring it. I didn’t get as many pages done for The Shape Of My Son, but I did all the leg work to propel me forward. And I spent a lot of time coming into the home with my family instead of looking at them from the outside.
I’ll remember this summer.
