Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Yesterday's Weather Report

The gift of hope is that hope survives.  
Keep your eyes front and see what's ahead.
Don't look up yesterday's weather report.
- Matthew Speidel

Today is the Summer Solstice.  It is the official start of summer in the Northern Hemisphere. It is the day in this hemisphere that shall have daylight longer than any other.  From this day forward until we reach the Winter Solstice, each day will contain less light and more darkness than the one that preceded it.  The regression will be gradual at first - until we reach November's first Sunday.  

I know not when my longtime friend Matt Speidel first offered the observation at the top of today's piece.  I know only that several years ago, he commented upon something that had appeared here by sharing it.  While I was initially disheartened and chapped by the fact that his comment was better than whatever it was I had written upon which he had commented, I ceased my tantrum long enough to realize just how right he was.  Every now and again I find myself guilty of looking up yesterday's weather report.  Often, I do it without meaning or intending to do so.  I simply allow myself to fall into that trap.  Whenever that happens, I remember Matt's straightforward, solid advice.  He is right.  Life is a forward-moving exercise.  

Monday afternoon, I was eating my lunch in the quiet of my office and I began perusing the New York Times' on-line edition.  My single-most favorite thing about subscribing to the Times is that my print subscription affords me unfettered access to the paper's website.  More often than not, I steal time during the day to digest a significant amount of information so that by the time I get home and have a chance to look at the day's paper, most of what is written there that I wanted to read, I have already read. 

I read a piece that struck me as being simply extraordinary.  Better stated, I read what I consider to be an exceptionally well-written piece by Michael Powell on a young track-and-field athlete, Gabriele Grunewald, who is nothing short of heroic each and every day.  Her story resonated very powerfully with me.  It hit much closer to home than I wish it did and its prospective outcome is far less sunny than I would have hoped.  

I nevertheless thought of Matt's credo after I read it.  And I realized that when one's life is lived on an oval, one's eyes remain fixed on the track ahead and not on the ground one has already covered.  And as long as there is track ahead, there is hope.  

Irrespective of the weather. 


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