At Twilight
Originally published in The Laconia Daily Sun ›
The Japanese word for twilight is higure, which is neither darkness nor light, nor even a mixture of the two, more a grayness, the most suggestive color in all of Japanese art. It is a world of singularly subtle shades that exists solely in the momentary movement from one space to another.
It seemed an appropriate word as we move into a summer that is different from other summers. The summer after the world closed down. A time when are living through a period of transformation. One of these “sitting on the dock of the bay” reflecting moments.
Thinking about style. Remember when if one did not inherit a piece of mahogany furniture, a dining table or a bureau, one could at least find something in an antique store or buy a reproduction. Now everyone wants to furnish their homes with light, movable, comfortable objects that don’t require dusting or polish and aren’t in any way precious and are manufactured from sustainable materials.
“I feel like taking a blow torch to my closet,” a friend said to me recently. Now the focus is on comfort. Ironing, starch, stockings, ties, pocket squares have disappeared. Let’s face it, what do you wear to watch Elon Musk’s two astronauts blasted into space in the slickest outfits you have ever seen. And, a few days later Dr. Kathy Sullivan became the first woman to dive to the deepest point in the ocean and engage in conversation with people at the International Space Station. Radical change. And what has Elon Musk named his new child? X AE A-XII. Perhaps you can figure out how to pronounce it.
Thankfully not everything changes. How can one make it through a summer without a large ice-cream cone on a hot summer day, gingerly holding the cone as the ice-cream begins to melt down across your fingers. Chocolate and vanilla ice cream from the Happy Cow, Jordan’s Raspberry Truffle or vanilla ice cream smothered in chocolate sauce, strawberries, nuts and topped with whipped cream at Keller Haus.
Of course, my preferred lunch, and one of my favorite places, is the Soda Shoppe on Beacon Street, reading the Laconia Daily Sun with my tuna fish sandwich on “well toasted, dry, whole wheat toast” and a cup of tea. Or sitting outside at Annie Café.
On a lovely New Hampshire summer day there is still the temptation to take a drive, with all the windows rolled down and find a café for lunch. Walk along the Connecticut River, explore a place you have never been. Watch the loons floating and bobbing in the water next to the shore and view the mountains in the distance. A dinner of sweet beets and greens, grilled red onion and peppers, corn, luscious tomatoes and grilled hamburgers from the farmer’s market will never change. Or noticing a butterfly. Picking daisies.
Yet, this summer is different. And what we have learned over the last several months is that each of us can play a role in rebuilding the world. To eliminate hunger. To figure out how to end institutionalized racism. To end the violence. To end the anger. Find a cure or a vaccine for COVID-19.
Rachel Carson warned us in Silent Spring (1962) not to ignore our natural world, our interconnectedness to the earth. We were driving down a superhighway too fast, she said. It’s time to slow down as we move from one space to another.