Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Eclipse Glasses and the Lure of Being Carefree
I bought special glasses for watching the solar eclipse. They look like the cardboard glasses we used to get to watch 3D movies. Oddly, because we don’t ordinarily search out celestial happenings, we are going to Ohio for another reason anyway and that is where the viewing is supposed to be the best. Ohio. Good for watching the solar eclipse and hopefully for re-electing Sherrod Brown to the U.S. Senate. We shall see, as they say.
There has been quite a hubbub about the solar eclipse. So, we were worried that all the camp sites in Ohio and thereabouts would be taken but miraculously we reserved a spot at Paint Creek State Park. Our little red van and our eclipse glasses and our two dogs (who don’t have eclipse glasses but never look at the sun anyway) will be motoring south in a few weeks. Exciting, and weird. And oh, so retired.
I’ve been wanting more of that kind of living. My devotion to work notwithstanding, it’s nice to have whole days roll out without holding a single obligation – no meetings or events or things to ponder. I’ve been wanting to loosen my sense of self from the work I do. Somewhat. As I pause, I’m already wanting to take that back. What I want is to feel carefree which is like not working, but not exactly. Years ago, I wrote a piece about the futility of wanting to be carefree. It’s what I think chasing the solar eclipse is all about.
I am on the hunt for Carefree. I once was best friends with Carefree, but I haven’t seen her since I was about seven. You know Carefree. She’s the one who’s barefoot. She’s not worried about being hungry because she’s got a peanut butter sandwich and a dollar in her backpack. She knows when the ice cream man is coming and that’s all that’s important. She doesn’t worry. She doesn’t fret. She doesn’t think about the future unless it’s happening tomorrow. She’s just living her life.
If she steps on a piece of glass on the playground, she cries. But she never thinks about stepping on a piece of glass ahead of time. If she did, she’d be looking down all the time or wearing shoes. Then she wouldn’t be Carefree. She’d be Careful. I am tired of being with Careful and want to be with Carefree.
Oh, sometimes I have glimmers of Carefree, maybe when I’m on a road that isn’t on the map, swimming in a very blue lake, sitting in the sand amidst the ferns and blueberry plants and filling my cup with tiny ripe blueberries. It is just enough, like a wee shot of adrenaline, to remind me what being with Carefree feels like. And then she’s gone. Just like that. Snap. I’m not hopeful but I’m going to stick with the hunt. No matter how long it takes. I want her back.
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Photo by pawel szvmanski on Unsplash
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
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“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Is there such a thing as embracing carefree, but with a small bit of structure? Do they cancel each other out in some way and then you just fall into doing what you always do, whatever that is? I do very much like the idea of the red van and 2 dogs and driving and parks that highlight an eclipse however.