The barefoot toe-wriggling season ...
Ecclesiastes got it right. There is
indeed a season for all things and, although he didn’t say so exactly, that
includes a season for kicking off your shoes and wriggling your barefoot toes
in the wet sand while the last inch of incoming wave runs over your feet. That
season is here.
My own plans kick off this week. We’ll
drive to the southern tip of New Jersey for the first summer concert of the
Cape May Brass Band. My friend Bob
Fineberg, a distinguished attorney and even more distinguished musician, has
promised “an old-fashioned concert in the park” replete with “marches, a couple
of show tunes, some traditional English brass band songs, and some good solo
works”. At Bob’s suggestion, we’ll bring our own folding chairs, but before all
that I intend to walk to the beach, leave shoes and socks on the soft sand, and
re-introduce my toes to the ocean.
And that’s just for openers. Now that
the kids are out of school, it’s open season on visits with the grandchildren.
The June graduations are over, but the July birthdays are coming fast. There’s
a string of them starting July 2nd, which will require barbeques,
iced tea on breezy porches, and cakes with candles of varying count. There’s at
least one medium sized family re-union, and a sprinkle of “evenings of
opportunity” when vacationing friends and cousins come down to the shore hoping
to get together for Jersey tomatoes and corn on the cob, with lobsters here or
clams there.
These are the small stitches in the
fabric of our lives, and they matter. You have to come up for air now and then,
to mix a metaphor, and these are the months to do it. What better way to start
than with a brass band?
Meanwhile, of course, events march
on, brass band or no. The Supreme Court is announcing big-scale decisions on
voting rights, gay rights and affirmative action before heading to whatever
beaches they wriggle their toes on, and Congress is doing its thing, although
it may have to wriggle its ears in the sand rather than its toes, given where
its members have stuck their heads. If ever a bunch need a brass band and a
bracing John Phillip Sousa march to get going, Congress is it.
Hillary’s brass band, on the other
hand, has already stepped out, trumpets and bugles and drums going full steam.
Unfortunately they started without the drum major. She’s still off-stage,
raising money and politely trying not to step on President Obama’s parade for a
few more months. You can get an idea of what’s going on when you realize
Hillary’s mere plans drive the President’s actions, such as they are, clear off
the front page. Her parade may look a bit ragged starting out, but it’s a 3
year march. Eventually she’ll be rested up and will get them marching in step.
Meanwhile the Republicans are practicing close-order drill and measuring their
neighing mavericks for muzzles and
hobbles. Neither side has called me yet for advice, so I expect to find time
this summer for camping, golf, sailing, grandchildren and book-writing.
On other fronts, look for the Edward
Snowden flap to simmer all summer. Like his predecessor Julian Assange, the
intelligence agencies want his scalp but have lost their tomahawk, so to speak.
China, Russia, Ecuador and maybe Cuba are having fun playing “keep-away” from
the U.S., and that game has no predefined time limits. New players can join
anytime. All you need is an airport that can be reached without flying through
US airspace.
Barefoot or not, Governor Christie
will be walking our beaches all summer, and doesn’t mind a bit that most of the
people on them will be from Democratic Pennsylvania and Democratic New York,
both of whose electoral votes he’d love to bundle with New Jersey’s for the
Presidential race, if only he can wrest the Republican nomination from the Tea
Partiers who hate his guts. The only two things sure for Governor Christie this
year are that he’ll be re-elected Governor, and there will be more hurricanes
coming ashore on our coast. But that’s weeks away.
Meanwhile, welcome to summer. Now
kick off those shoes!
_____
Copyright Joseph T. Wilkins.
Joe Wilkins is a semi-retired lawyer and former municipal judge who lives in Smithville, NJ. He is the author of "The Speaker Who Locked up the House", an acclaimed historical novel about Congress set in the Washington of 1890, and "The Skin Game and other Atlantic City capers", a richly comic account of the stick-up of an illegal card game as Atlantic City casino age began. To buy Joe’s books, invite him to talk to your group, or send him your comments, you can email him at wilkinsjt001@comcast.net, visit his website at www.josephtwilkins.com or catch his author's page on Facebook.
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