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A nation of bellyachers
by Sam Moffie
So far, it has been a summer that’s made me long to be a child again, back at the YMCA Camp in Sloane in Lakeville, Conn.
One summer, when I was a boy more than 10,000 bottles of Pinot Noir ago, it was a very hot and humid summer. I’m 52, so it had to be when I was 14… so, 38 summers ago.
Thirty-eight years ago 100 degrees was still 100 degrees AND we didn’t have the technology and knowledge of today, which is far better than it was way back then when it came to dealing with the heat.
But 38 years ago we didn’t whine and bellyache like people in 2012. We just dealt with it. Played in the water as long as we could, drank lots and lots of cold water and lemonade, stayed in places inside, or outside, that were cool and offered lots of shade; we wore light-colored and loose-fitting clothes, and most importantly, we didn’t bitch about ‘how hot it is’ to everyone in earshot.
Maybe it was because we didn’t have The Weather Channel and other media outlets constantly reminding us of ‘how extreme the heat is’ or how it’s the ‘hottest day in years, with no relief soon’ and so on.
Maybe it’s because we focused on the fact that summer is hot and winter is cold, and we dealt with it accordingly. Maybe we wanted to enjoy our summer knowing school was around the corner and damn the temperature—let’s enjoy our days off while they last! That was very important. Maybe it’s because we were kids and what did we know?
We knew that we better seize the day, as they say (carpe diem), because who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Make a thick skin thicker.
Try to leave the day better off for everyone around me, and dependent upon me; leave it better than when it started.
And that helps big time.
Because I’m proud to be a self-published author.
And do you want to talk about bellyaching?! Being a self-published author in 2012 is a lot better than being a bar owner (which I am, too) in the hot summer of 2012 listening to patrons bitch and moan and whine about how hot it is out while they drink alcohol that only raises their body temperature, not cooling it down. (When I point this out, the patron almost always responds by saying “I don’t like beer.”)
I don’t like beer either (my taste buds are shot), so I drink wine… a lot of wine. But as every lover of red wine knows—DON’T DRINK RED WINE IN THE HOT SUN OR YOU’RE IN TROUBLE! So, I drink white wine on the rocks and my body stays cool.
What does this have to do with writing? Nothing, but it makes me feel better.
And as all self-published authors should note… it could always be worse.
Thanks to Sam for stopping by! Don't forget to leave a comment to get in on the drawing.