We started summer off early this year with ‘Where the Boys Are’ but on this official first day of the season, here’s another song to greet the sun: the exquisite ‘Sanremo’ by Mika. It’s definitely my song for this summer, even if the Sanremo conjured can only exist in my mind. After not going anywhere for most of 2020 and the first half of 2021, such mindful travels are neither foreign, nor disappointing. Within the imagination is where summer most fully blooms.
Light brown skin, Lips like Campari
And words like soda, Can I come over?
Just let me in I wanna go where the nights are blinding
The sun keeps shining
If I could I know where I’d be – In a little town in Italy
Close your eyes, come away with me Tomorrow we will be…
What shall this summer bring? It’s already brought a boisterous return of us boys to Boston for this year’s wedding anniversary, a roller-coaster of a BroSox Adventure that started at the Mandarin Oriental and ended at Fenway Park, and next up is a rendezvous with Chris in a few weeks where his cross-country journey lands him back on the East Coast. I have a trip to Connecticut in the works as well, where I get to see Missy and Joe and their fantabulous boys – the wardrobe is already worked out to a tropical cabana theme. (Oddly enough, I had all the necessary accoutrements in the attic.) That leaves us with a couple of weeks to welcome in the summer before JoAnn arrives for a too-long-awaited reunion.
Sitting by the seaside, drinking up the sunshine
You’re here so why don’t we go dancing in Sanremo?
We can be there in a couple of hours, to the place with the yellow flowers
Somewhere only we know – sunset in Sanremo
After being rocked so traumatically last year, we all seem to be in a collective state of hesitant hope. That’s not a bad space to be during the summer, when things slow down, when we pause and savor. The other day, I went for a swim and had to remind myself to take it all in, to enjoy the present moment, to stop racing ahead in my head. Summer is no time to rush, and sometimes – most times in fact – it’s ok to simply be.
To feel like this is one in a million
A suspended moment – can we seal it with a tender kiss?
Out of a movie made by Fellini, Love that you need me
Over there you shine like a star, doesn’t even matter who you are
Hold my hand and we travel far
Close your eyes and we will be…
Maybe that’s one of the lessons we should glean from the recent past. I take it to heart, and take the world around me in tiny steps. A small cut on my leg brings back summer stumbles as a boy. The pesky mosquito bite on my arm itches and tells me I’m alive. Squinting into the sunlight coming from its zenith, I survey the sky. Nearby the little cries of baby cardinals and baby robins sound from the hedge and juniper. You can just see the straining heads and necks reach skyward when a parent approaches with a worm or caterpillar. Life feels fragile in the summer. Indomitable too, somehow.
Along with its fragility and defiance, summer is time for celebration, whether it’s the simple opening of a daisy or the opulent parade of hydrangeas this year. A rather benign winter has allowed blooms to form and develop on shrubs that haven’t bloomed in literal decades. It’s a happy sight to see, and so lovely I may make motions to provide some winter protection for them in the hopes to preserve this wave of blooms for future years. Lessons in kindness and compassion, even in the plant world, are always welcome.
Sitting by the seaside, drinking up the sunshine
You’re here so why don’t we go dancing in Sanremo?
We can be there in a couple of hours, to the place with the yellow flowers
Somewhere only we know – sunset in Sanremo
There you can shine like a star
There’s a place for you whoever you are
I know you’re tired of the rain, but tomorrow we’ll be…
Music hits differently in the summer. It hits harder, deeper into the heart and head, and it makes a more potent memory than at any other time of the year. I can’t say why that is, and maybe it’s just me, but summer music memories are some of the most powerful and meaningful. To that end, I’ll be writing a few summer song posts as we slink through the sunny days ahead.
Sitting by the seaside, drinking up the sunshine
You’re here so why don’t we go dancing in Sanremo?
We can be there in a couple of hours, to the place with the yellow flowers
Somewhere only we know – sunset in Sanremo …
Summer can be serious, but I’m most enamored of it when it turns cheeky and fun and light and whimsical and flirtatious – teasing and smiling and giggling at its own effervescent charm and silliness. When all else fails, and the world fumbles and toils and troubles, summer comes again – all sunshine and grace and balmy goodness. It’s hard to be sad or serious on a sunny summer day. Beauty has that power, and the sensual pull of the sun reminds us of all the physical pleasures this world still holds for us. A bowl of ripe cherries, sweet and tart on the tongue. A tall glass of cucumber-tinged water waiting on a table and sweating in the shade. A coconut-scented bottle of sunscreen warmed in the sunlight by the pool. A sun shower prickling my skin and tickling the hair on my arms.
Sitting by the seaside, drinking up the sunshine
You’re here so why don’t we go dancing in Sanremo?
We can be there in a couple of hours to the place with the yellow flowers
Somewhere only we know… sunset in Sanremo.
So let us have this summer, let us celebrate it quietly and defiantly, gently and ferociously, in all the ways summer deserves and demands to be celebrated. It will go quickly, but it will go sweetly, and we will lean into the sweetness, embracing the warmth, the beauty, the joy.
PS – Tomorrow is the second night of summer.
