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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?
Plenty.
We
knew that we better seize the day, as they say (carpe diem), because who knew
what tomorrow would bring?
Be
positive.
Think
positive.
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.
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