What I Did This Summer

Does anyone remember having to write the requisite “What I Did This Summer” essay assignment upon returning to school in the fall?  It was a dreadful assignment on a number of levels.  Those students who didn’t like to write or couldn’t write well stumbled over the syntax and task of organizing what might indeed have been a great set of stories, while others more gifted in the art of gab crafted often tantalizing tales of adventures in far flung places that made the rest of the class feel bad about themselves because their summer travels paled in comparison. 

My favorite “What I Did This Summer” story of all time is, hands down, Olivia Saves the Circus,  a children’s book that I first encountered when my daughter was in pre-Kindergarten.  Olivia is the beloved and mischievous character created by Ian Falconer, who began his career as a cartoonist for The New Yorker.  

In Olivia Saves the Circus, the reader is treated to Olivia’s delightful summer fantasy in which Olivia literally saves the circus by stepping in as various performers find themselves benched by ear infections. 

The story opens as Olivia is finishing up a breakfast of pancakes.  After her morning ablutions, Olivia rides her scooter to school. Once in her classroom, Olivia is asked to stand up and “tell the class about her vacation. 

Olivia, we’re told, [of course] always blossoms in front of an audience.”  Bursting with confidence and mischief, Olivia then launches into a fabulous tale about the circus her mother took her to visit, a circus whose entire cast sadly and mysteriously had been stricken with ear infections!

Olivia is undeterred by this small problem because, as she explains, “Luckily, I know how to do everything.”  “Everything,” it turns out, includes becoming the Tattooed Lady (my personal favorite is the “Remember the Maine” tattoo she inks on with a magic marker), taming the lions, walking the tightrope, performing on the trapeze, jumping on the trampoline, entertaining the crowd with various clown activities, and putting on a show in the ring as “Madame Olivia and Her Trained Dogs,” who “weren’t,” she explains, “very trained. “  

Next comes funniest line of all and the one, I believe, on which this essay truly rests:  “Then one time my dad took me sailing.  The End.”

As skeptical as a specially appointed prosecutor, Olivia’s teacher asks, “Was that true?”

“Pretty true,” Olivia responds.

Again, the teacher asks, “All true?”

“Pretty all true,” says Olivia with a straight face.

“Are you sure, Olivia?” the teacher presses yet again.

“To the best of my recollection,” Olivia replies, the perfect politician.

How many times have you felt the skepticism Olivia’s teacher when you look at your friends’ fabulous vacation shots on Instagram and Facebook?  Do you ever feel a bit like Olivia’s teacher?  Do you wonder if you asked the same questions you would get a similar answer: “Pretty all true.”

Yet unlike Olivia’s fellow students who are, apparently familiar with and quite amused by Olivia’s propensity to tell tall, yet entertaining tales, our friends’ social media posts sometimes make us feel a bit “less than,” even if we DID have a fun, albeit less glamorous summer.

We may not have had the opportunity to hop on a jet and fly to Paris for the weekend, for example, or we may not have enough airplane mileage points or credit card points banked to whisk the family off to Hawaii for a week of sun, fun, and the requisite round of golf.

At the end of the day, it’s best to be thankful for the little things, like taking a sailboat ride with your child or spending the weekend at Galveston Island– about an hour’s drive from Houston, where I live, or even enjoying a Staycation at home alongside the pool in your own backyard.

Make your own memories and stories about the time you spend with your loved ones. Be like Olivia who, at the end of the book is caught jumping on her bed after lights out by her mother.  

“OLIVIA, I said ‘no jumping!  Who do you think you are, Queen of the Trampoline?”

After her mother closes the door, Olivia, now lying on her bed under her photograph of Eleanor Roosevelt, thinks to herself, “Maybe.”

Did I surf the waves off Ponto State Beachor snorkel with Leopard Sharks?  Did I canoe down the South Fork of the Guadalupe, carrying my canoe across the shallow areas and skillfully navigating the rapids? Did I meet and drink wine with a famous artist? Maybe!

Did I have a wonderful time traveling to new places, seeing new things, and trying new foods and wines with my family? Absolutely!

May we all have bit of Olivia in ourselves as the summer winds to a close.  

Reference:  Falconer, Ian. Olivia Saves the Circus. Atheneum: New York, 2001.

The Call of the Heart

“Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.” Dr. Seuss

My daughter left for camp yesterday. This will be her 11thsummer at Heart O’ the Hills Camp.  We did the usual last minute shopping for the requisite white shorts for Sundays, brushed the cobwebs off her trunk, aired it out on the back porch, and then filled it with everything she’d need for the next four weeks – at least everything she could think of at the time.  Inevitably, one of us forgets to pack something.  In the old days, that meant a letter home with a request and up to a week of waiting for said item to arrive via the US Mail.  Now, it’s only a quick few clicks on the keyboard to order the item from Amazon or a 20 minute drive into town for a Walmart run on her afternoon off.  

I’m always sad and happy at the same time when my daughter leaves for camp.  I have so many happy memories of Heart O’ the Hills.  It is a very special place.  I went every summer for five years:  1974 to 1979. I spent a few years away and then, like the boy in Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, I returned to Heart O’ the Hills during a time in my life when I needed to be in a place that had always nurtured and welcomed me.  I had just completed the first year of the many it would take to earn my Ph.D.  I needed a break from the bleakness of the ivory tower.  I needed, as one song the campers still sing at camp, “to be still, to take it in a while, to feel the sunshine warm upon [my] face.”  I missed the feel of the cool, clear waters of the south fork of the Guadalupe River; the light of the fireflies that I have only seen one place in my entire life; the smell of the mesquite campfires at Opening Ceremony; the sound of Taps right before bed, and the camaraderie and fellowship of those blessed with the opportunity to spend time at that very special place on a quiet, two lane road “deep in the heart of Texas.”  

 I’m sad because, like every single Heart girl I have ever known, I’m “camp sick.” It’s hard to explain to someone who has never experienced it; it’s not a siren’s call, exactly – that word has such negative connotations – but it is a call.  Camp calls to me this time of year: “Come, come girl – come swim in my river and ride my horses.   Come climb up to the top of Pawnee Hill and sit around the fire with the other members of your tribe – your Heart sisters who know you like no one else ever will – and share the deepest secrets of your heart.  Lay on the Front Lawn and feel the grass under your limbs while you gaze up into the night sky at the millions of stars that you can no longer see under the glare of the big city lights at night.”

Then I remember the wise words of Dr. Seuss:  “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.  And I tell myself to smile because “it” – the wonder of camp – continues to happen every summer, just as it is happening right now for my daughter and the girls she is teaching to love this place as much as we do.