Promises of summer
As a young boy, my New Year’s resolutions were quite serious. I would study harder, be better behaved, take more baths. Winter is a serious season, often gray and without humor, and it was reflected in the person I was trying to become: smart, kind and good-smelling.
But somewhere in the future there was summer and that magical moment when the final school bell rang, causing a rush to freedom. In summer, we resolved to fish and hike, spend long days at the park or beach, stay up late. Eventually, pursue more adolescent ambitions: fall in love. Not get a job.
When we are adults, winter resolutions still tend to be on the serious side. We resolve to find more meaningful work, more meaningful relationships. We set out in search of faith and self-fulfillment. We will lose 10 pounds and stop smoking. Exercise more. Learn French and the cello.
Maybe we should lighten up, which is why we need Fourth of July resolutions, made when days are long and one is outdoors.
In nature, possibilities seem greater and the price of self-improvement does not include such high degrees of sacrifice, will and hard work.
In summer, we are less likely to make resolutions that will change us into someone else and more likely to make ones that remind us of who we are.
And, so, as the season rushes past, there is still time:
* To rent a convertible and drive through the desert under a full moon listening to Bob Seger. To cruise Sunset Boulevard at 3 in the morning listening to Tom Waits. Early morning in wine country with Bach and Mendelssohn. Miles Davis on a Sunday afternoon along PCH.
* To search for the perfect cabin, the one in the valley by the lake or stream that lingers in your mind when you close your eyes and wish for sanity and solitude.
* To attend a minor-league baseball game on a Friday night in San Bernardino, when tickets to watch the Inland Empire Sixty-Sixers cost 50 cents, same for a hot dog or a soft drink.
* To ponder “Mountain Landscape,” a hanging scroll at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It is believed to have been created in the 16th century by a Japanese artist named Sokan. Nothing is known of his life.
* To reread Thoreau, who wrote: “In the wilderness is the salvation of mankind”; and Steinbeck, who wrote: “Time is the only critic without ambition.” And from Twain: “Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”
* To lie, with long thoughts, beneath an open window.
* To attend a Santana concert under the stars.
* To take off for a weekend with no plans, a full tank of gas and $10 in your pocket.
So even if we still smoke two packs a day, still hate our jobs and weigh 10 pounds too much, summer resolutions help us see the larger picture of our lives and the importance of the freedom we celebrate.
On the wall above the chair where I sit at home hangs a Japanese calligraphy stating, “Ichigo-ichie.” It’s the concept that each moment comes only once. In tea ceremonies, it has to do with extending ultimate hospitality, appreciation and selfless regard through the making, serving and sharing of each cup.
A moment is not a long time. It is a sudden breath of wind that billows a lace curtain, a song on the road. It is time enough, however, to remember the joy of summers we knew in childhood, when fireworks made us tremble and the sun lingered like a friend before slipping away, and it didn’t matter what we smelled like.
There are still plenty of moments between now and the end of summer, opportunities to make good on resolutions before the bell calls us back and we comb our hair, scrub our ears and life turns serious again.
Duane Noriyuki can be contacted at duane.noriyuki@latimes.com