Considering the Heat Wave

It’s cool and just a little breezy this morning. But the morning Globe reminds me we’re in the middle of a heat-wave here in eastern Massachusetts. Temperatures above 90 and even near 100 are expected for the next few days.

I’m finding it’s hard not to suffer in advance. Right in this moment, it’s a lovely day—clear sky and few wispy clouds illuminated by the sun as yet hidden below the horizon. I sit comfortably on the second floor deck and already I’m worried about this afternoon’s heat.

The next-door neighbor’s air conditioner units poke squarely out of two windows not twenty feet away. I suppose they are sleeping coolly behind their closed curtains and purring machines. Three sparrows chase each other—unconcerned through the open sky. A couple of large trees a few lots to the north rustle their leaves and prepare their shade to be ready with the rising sun. Do these native oak and maple trees mind this blazing summer heat? Do they notice the creeping rise over the decades? What is their plan for when things get bad?

These summer heat waves that I’ve known since I was a boy do seem to be worse. Or is it just me? I’ve visited some of the mansions of my childhood, all of them have shrunk to human-scale. It might be the successive heat waves and contracted the lumber, but I suspect it’s just the creative nature of remembering.

One of my all-time favorite bumper stickers is: ‘It’s never too late to have a happy childhood!’ (I can’t remember if there was an exclamation point at the end, but I insert it here because there should be, even if there wasn’t.) I have often pondered the true meaning of this everyday koan.

From one perspective it’s a blow against rigid determinism—an assertion of our power as adults to meet and transform the challenges of our childhood. What happened to us is, of course, a done deal, but we have the creative power to use our skills and capacities as adults in service of our younger selves. Terrible things happen to everyone. It’s not all equal, but each one of us can only meet our own lives and only in doing so can we learn to stand up for ourselves and for others as well.

Our past is right here and remembering is a creative exercise. The stories we tell ourselves are constantly being reworked in service of the present moment—whether we know it or not. Can we work consciously with these stories so they can support the next stages of our growth and development rather than be the burden that weighs us down? It’s not easy work, but reckoning with our past is the foundation of our current experience.

‘It’s never too late to have a happy childhood!’ might also be an encouragement to be right now who we did not feel allowed to be as a child. What if it’s OK to be silly and to waste time? What if it’s fine to get my clothes dirty and not to care? What if I can be fascinated by the little ordinary things of my life right now?

This is perhaps why some of us adults like to be around children. They help us remember what we have forgotten and see what we have lost sight of. Their exultations and tragedies allow us to better see the wondrous and ever-changing nature of the world around us. And in taking care of children, we take care of our younger selves—give the love and reassurance we had longed for—give the permission and the safety that might not have been there for us.

But it’s still going to be hot this afternoon. I suppose I’ll just have to remember to put on my sunscreen, drink lots of fluids and practice not being very productive while I sit with my grandson in his small plastic pool and watch him learn to not breathe in when he puts the hose to his mouth.