"September" with David Farnan

A Word from David: September

David Farnan

Ba-dee-ya, say, do you remember? Ba-dee-ya, dancin’ in September Ba-de-ya, never was a cloudy day There was a…. Ba-dee-ya [dee-ya, dee-ya] say, do you remember? Ba-dee-ya [dee-ya, dee-ya], dancin’ in September Ba-dee-ya [dee-ya, dee-ya], golden dreams were shiny days

-Earth, Wind & Fire

I do not know if it is a strength or a weakness, but I am pretty good about living in the moment. I don’t dwell in the past. I have few regrets. But I am also really bad at being able to anticipate things. I am okay at planning stuff, but "looking forward" is almost laughable for me. Whether deliberately or simply by happenstance, autumn or Halloween seem a million miles away. I find myself living in such a way that I mostly deal with things that come my way. An old friend once said to me, “You don’t like the way things are. You like things the way they are. ” I took that as a compliment. With that in mind, I know that I have spent too much time wanting for the pandemic to be over, too much time wishing the library’s financial hardships would pass, friends would return, or I would get another chance at some small thing or another. I try to tell myself that it is just a kind of longing. And while I suppose longing has its place in life, I mostly recognize it as the flight and fancy of that dull grey matter, (my socalled "brain") attempting to come up with things to wish for and strive for, simply to distract me from where I am. Wanting wants me to neglect living, distract me from appreciating all the things I have….like friends, a roof over my head, or a good song in it.

Which brings me to where I started: ear worms. Recently, I was driving with my family. The windows were down and the radio was blasting Lizzo and Lady Gaga and some song I had never heard by Sia. In the rear-view mirror, I caught a glimpse of my sons in the back seat. The youngest was singing with his eyes closed and dancing his arm out the window in the wind. The eldest was turned sideways, knees tucked up, eyes half closed, hair blowing in his face, a faint smile as he watched the cars and weeds and buildings pass by along Pearl Parkway. It made me happy. Or "happy/sad" as they say in the movie Home. It made me want to capture the moment. It made me wonder: why do the songs of summer sound so good? Why do they stay with us?

Summer is ending again. Children are back in school. Maybe you tried on an old sweater recently. Perhaps to ward off a chill, perhaps to see if it still fit. I am grateful for the everyday things that keep us glued together. Not so much for the memories, but rather for the making of them.