When Summer Doesn’t Seem Like Summer

Today is the last day of school for my youngest. Summer is here. There’s no tasting summer today, that is for sure. It might be 99 degrees outside right now, but Oddly, I don’t feel that same sort of accomplishment that comes with another school year in the bag. I don’t even know that my daughter does. In fact this morning, we had quite the discussion over whether or not really was, in fact, the last day. She was convinced she went through Friday. It took me pulling up the school and district website calendar to prove my point, and even then, she’s semi-convinced I’m wrong.

Everything is so messed up, I can’t really blame her for not knowing whether she’s coming or going! Nothing feels right about this year. Who knew 2020 was going to be the colossal mess it’s proven to be thus far? Never in my wildest dreams did I see all of this coming, and while there’s a part of me that is most assuredly relieved that after today, I am not going to have to announce, “It’s time to get up!” or “If you don’t get out of that bed right now young lady, you are grounded from the computer for the rest of the week!” At least, I won’t have to do that for the next eight weeks or so, right?

Never in my life did I expect to come to a point where I couldn’t plan for more than a day, or even a week in advance, but here I am. We have no summer plans, obviously. I mean, who knows whether or not we’ll ever be out of this “shelter-in-place” thing that really doesn’t mean shelter-in-place as much as it means that we shouldn’t be out having a good time because there’s a pandemic lurking about that might only give us a dry throat, cough and fever…but it also might kill us faster than we can say “I am the virus, I lay a coil around your spine”. Sure, it might seem facetious for me to write that, but life feels like a game of Russian Roulette at the moment.

One also cannot forget that at the moment, I have a husband recuperating from a stroke. The more I type or say the words, the more my own brain insists I’ve taken leave of my senses. The blood clot was small, the effects were…not quite. He is better, don’t get me wrong. Progress has been steady. Each day I wake up to find that more and more of my husband is returning. I am lucky, but I am also terrified. It is a change that has affected me to my very core, and not something that I can really describe in words. I think of the memes I see posted on social media when a rare storm (the rest of you might call it “sprinkles” or “rain”) hits Southern California. The photo will be of a plastic chair blown over in a backyard and the caption reads “We Will Rebuild”. I feel that way, except the storm was real, and it’s obviously not just a plastic chair.

He’s back trying to work, which seems exceptionally quick. His speech is starting to return in that he is annunciating more clearly, but there are other things that are much slower. His personality has somewhat changed – that, I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it’s something I notice and no one else seems to mention. One week post-stroke now, and the doctor appointments tend to fill up the calendar, sometimes with little notice. It is a strange existence, particularly during a pandemic when you can’t really plan ahead. Everything feels last minute, and for those of us die-hard planners out there, it’s a different world.

I don’t think it’s any different for Duran Duran. Can you imagine how it must feel to be on the cusp of finishing a record, just yards from the finish line, only to have the whole thing put on hold? What about having to cancel an entire summer worth of gigs, and oh wait, looks like Autumn gigs will have to go, too. It isn’t even as though we can plan for next year, because truthfully – we don’t know what next year is even going to look like. Mindboggling. Just as we’re settling into one sort of reality, another comes knocking on the door, threatening to destroy whatever spirit we’ve got left in us.

I know I’m supposed to be focusing my blogs on Duran Duran. I wish I could. For nearly ten years now, I’ve spent most mornings thoughtfully preparing posts that reflect whatever is going on in Duranland, written from the perspective of a fan. That perspective, whether mine, Amanda’s, Jason’s, or even another guest blogger, is what makes this blog unique. We all feel and experience the band differently. We’ve tried to create a safe place to express that, although at times – we fall short. At the moment, real life feels like it regularly outweighs the band, and I’m betting I’m not alone. Life in 2020 is utterly chaotic. A dumpster fire beyond all measure. Even Yellowstone National Park is having a freak out. (There’ve been hundreds of earthquakes there within the past 24-hours, and no – I doubt that’s coincidence. Mother Earth isn ’t having it anymore.)

I need a vacation. I’m off in search of a bass player giving a tutorial, and a chat with another rock star. Be kind to one another. Patience is a virtue. Wash your hands. Remember the acronym BE FAST. It can save your life!

-R