Hot summer dreams keep rolling through my mind
GREG BEAN Coda

I'm sitting out on the deck looking over my backyard in the dark of a hot summer night. The air is thick and close, and if I close my eyes, I can almost imagine I've been transported to an earlier, almost antediluvian time.

The canopy of leaves on the big trees in the yard is foreboding, the branches hanging low with the weight and humidity. Now and then, the glow from the porch light is reflected off the eyes of some animal traveling through the yard, raccoons maybe, or possums, or skunks. The sound of frogs is ubiquitous.

Beyond the border of the fence, the shadows are deep and I can imagine larger animalsmoving quietly through those shadows, stalking the night for their dinners.

In that frame of mind, it's difficult to believe that anything will ever change, because it's just too hot to do anything quickly, even change. Do you remember that feeling when you were a kid? Those hot summer nights when the vacation months stretched before you like eternity? A day seemed like weeks. Weeks seemed like months. Months seemed like years. We felt like we would never change, and the hot summer days would never end.

But, like seasons, our lives do change — gradually, of course, but irrevocably. As a family we've changed, and the boys have moved on to lives of their own. We're empty nesters now, but the evidence of our gradual change to that condition is evident in every room.

As a society we've also changed. For years it's seemed like we were making the first steep climb on an amusement park roller coaster. We knew big things were happening around us, but they were happening so slowly we could cope with them.

Now, we've gone over the edge of the first huge drop. The people in the front cars are screaming, we're gripping the safety bar, and we don't know where the bottom is.

We don't know where the bottom is in our economic free-fall. We don't know where the bottom is in our political turmoil. We don't know where the bottom is in our foreign wars, but we hope we'll reach it safely.

In my personal life, I'm also facing changes. I had a childhood illness that I coped with by ignoring for more than 50 years, but now I find my body is rebelling. The doctor says I need to take the time to heal, and at this point I can't ignore him. I'm not sure where the bottom is, but that means that for the next few months, I'll be away from the office on leave. I'll still be writing this column from home, and Dave Simpson and I will still be writing Red State/Blue State, but the day-to-day editorial leadership of our newspapers will be in other, capable hands.

You'll still be able to reach me by e-mail, naturally, so don't hesitate to write. I'll see you again a little further down the road.

• • •

As I was going through some old papers recently, I came across a letter that was a legend in our family, and it reminded me once again that no matter the uncertainty and changes we face in our lives, it's important to face them with optimism, and humor. A cousin wrote the letter to my uncle, who was serving in the military and stationed in Korea at the time. It's written in pencil, in a beautiful cursive hand. The paper is old and yellow and stained from the fingerprints and handling of a thousand readings. This is what it says:

Dear Buddy:

Nothing much doing here. I sure envy you out there in Korea, right in the thick of things. Bet you never have a dull moment.

I was over at your wife's house the other night and read all your letters. They were a bit mushy, but I don't blame you. Frances is a swell girl, wonderful figure, good looks and personality. The guys still whistle at her as she walks down the street.

Your brother-in-law dropped in. He was wearing the brown suit you bought just before you left. Fran gave it to him as she thought it would be out of style by the time you got back. Several other couples came out and we killed a couple cases of beer. We wanted to chip in to pay for it, but Fran wouldn't let us. She said you sent her $10 extra for her to spend as she wished.

One of the guys bought your golf clubs too. He paid $25 for them, and is picking them up tomorrow. That is more than she got for your movie camera and projector.

Fran is the life of the party. I thought she would be a bit shaken up after the accident last week with your Ford, but you would never know she was in a head-on collision and smashed your car to bits.

The other driver is still in the hospital and threatens to sue. Too bad that Fran forgot to pay the insurance. But the funny part of it is, she still isn't in the least bit worried, and we all admire her willingness to mortgage the house to pay the bill. Good thing you gave her power of attorney before you left.

Well, to get back to the party, you should have seen Fran do her imitation of Gypsy Rose Lee. She was still going strong when we all said good night to her and Claude. Guess you know Claude's rooming at the house. It is close to his work and he saves a bunch on gas.

Nothing much new with me, except my wife got another raise, $100 a week now, so we do OK with the $95 I make at the office. It is getting late, so I will stop.

I can see through my window across the street to your front porch. Fran and Claude are having a night cap. He is wearing your smoking jacket that you love so much. He's also enjoying your favorite pipe and your dog, Pepper, is curled up at his feet.

So you see, all is just fine at home and there's nothing for you to worry about. You just worry about yourself and the North Koreans. I know you'll make us proud.

I sure wish I could be over there with you, you lucky guy.

Give 'em hell,

Your Pal, Johnny

PS: Pay no attention to the rumor that Fran is pregnant. • • • Imust have heard that letter at family gatherings a hundred times as I was growing up. My uncle, who said it raised his spirits and made him grin when he needed it most, always saved it until the end of the day when people's energy and spirits were starting to flag. It brought down the house every time, and he always left them laughing.

I believe there are worse goals to aspire to in this life.

Gregory Bean is executive editor of Greater Media Newspapers. You can reach him at gbean@gmnews.com