Summertime, and the living is easy?

I don't recall when school started when I was an elementary, junior high or high school student, but I know it was not as early as it starts around here today, which is the first week in August. 

We might have started the week before Labor Day, or maybe the day after Labor Day, but I believe it was right around that. I always thought of the school year running from Labor Day to Memorial Day, with three months off in the summer. Breaks during the year consisted of a couple of days at Thanksgiving, two weeks at Christmas and a week in the spring. Maybe a day or two at Easter. 

As I recall, even spring break was not a thing until I was in high school. 

When my children were in school, things got started more around mid-August. When my last two were still in school, after my oldest had graduated, the school district proposed a more balanced calendar, with school starting earlier, maybe even late July, with more breaks during the year. 

I joined with other parents in vigorously opposing it, and at the time, we prevailed. Over time, however, those who favor an earlier start date have gotten their way. 

I always liked summers with my kids, and two months just seemed like such a short time. 

But today, school starts the first week of August. Summer break is two months instead of three. There are all kinds of breaks, including a weeklong fall break and a full week at Thanksgiving, and other days here and there. I suppose parents have become accustomed to this type of calendar and schedule. 

With so many families having both parents working, those breaks during the year must present challenges. Being long removed from it, although I would still favor a three-month summer break, I don't get worked up over it anymore. (But if I had a vote, it would be for a later start date.)

My grandchildren who are in school, in Alabama and Georgia, respectively, all started back this week as evidenced by the adorable pictures below.  It seems the earlier start date is a thing around the South. 

Summer is an interesting season in that even other institutions seem to take breaks. (Although not in banking, the industry I have worked in for more than a quarter-century.) Our church's regular pastors take a rest from the pulpit for a couple of months. We go to two services instead of three because more people seem to be traveling, not in town for church. 

People will say, "how is your summer going?" I don't recall being asked that about fall, winter or spring. 

There is some assumption, even if I don't have children at home and I'm not going by a school calendar, I am enjoying some kind of relaxed schedule. 

When I think back on this summer, I will, of course, think of my knee replacement surgery, which was seven weeks ago now. Recovery and rehabilitation continue, and I am doing well. 

But I wouldn't call it relaxing. 

250 years

Next year our country will celebrate its "semiquincentennial," and you have to admit that does not exactly roll off the tongue.

It's the term used for commemorating 250 years, and for the U.S. it will be the 250th anniversary of the signing of the United States Declaration of Independence.  

According to my cursory research, there will be commemorative coins and stamps, and various activities and celebrations will take place leading up to July 4, 2026.

I will date myself here, but I was around for the last big event like this 50 years ago, "The Bicentennial," which was a lot easier to say than semiquincentennial. In fact, it was the year I graduated from high school and much of our graduation memorabilia contained patriotic memorabilia and symbols. After all, we were the "Bicentennial Class."

I can't tell if this 250-year commemoration is going to be the shindig the Bicentennial was. 

Longtime (and blog) friend Kelly and I were part of a "Bicentennial Chorale," a group of a dozen-or-so singers chosen from our top high school choir. We wore period costumes and while I believe the intent was for it to be a group that supplemented the big choir and sang a few patriotic numbers here and there, it took on a life of its own as we sang all over the area at other schools, churches, civic clubs, business meetings and parades. 

By the time the year was done, I believe we had performed close to 100 times. (My memory might be a little fuzzy, if not exaggerated, but I do remember being very busy with this group.) 

We sang the typical patriotic songs like "God Bless America," America the Beautiful" and "This is My Country," but as I recall, we also performed a little one-act play with some original music. Again, the memory is faulty. 

I know we had a lot of fun and enjoyed singing around town. It was a different time, of course, and who knows what a "Semiquincentennial Chorale" would look (or sound) like?  

Post-surgery

This is Day 5 if you count my surgery day, last Thursday, as Day 1. That day was pretty much a blur, and I made an idiot of myself coming out of anesthesia, apparently suggesting to the nurse trying to wake me that I would be better off dead and asking if she might slip something into my IV to make that happen (I do not remember this)! 

I do not deny that, for a few minutes, I probably felt that way, but I did not mean to be unkind. By the time I left, I was asking about her children and family and trying to assure her I am a decent person. I also complimented her in my patient satisfaction review. 

How is this for modern medicine? I was in the surgery center at 8:15 a.m. I was home with my new knee at 2:30 p.m. Crazy. 

I am probably going to go into this more on my Substack, but suffice it to say I came through surgery OK, and I am doing OK now. The pain meds are good, and I have been receiving outstanding care from my wife and three adult children who have each taken a shift to help her, for which she and I are both grateful. 

The pain was and is as bad as I was told to expect, and Days 2 and 3 were rough. Really rough. Day 4, yesterday, I began to have glimpses of hope, and I have those same glimpses today. I had my first visit to physical therapy several hours ago, and it took Wife and Older son tag-teaming to load me up in the car, get me there, deposit me inside and bring me back home. 

PT went well (it hurt) and my therapist says I am where I should be. Keep doing the exercises, he said, and "work through the pain."

I guess I don't have much choice about that. 

Seriously, I want to get better, and I want to walk normally again, so yes, I will work through that pain just as hard as I can.