The Sun Won't Stop
Life goes on, from the mundane to the sublime
Are there any Holly Near fans out there? Decades ago, I was on a committee that brought her to Oak Park, IL on two occasions, once as a solo act and once with Ronnie Gilbert. Somehow, and I truly have no idea how I got so lucky, I was assigned as her attaché, which led to some memorable moments. But that’s another story.
I was already a fan, long before those concerts. And my absolute favorite song has always been the upbeat and profound “Sun Won’t Stop.” By the time I met Holly Near in the early 90’s, she lamented that the album it appeared on was no longer available. Much to my delight, I’ve discovered she included it on an album of other rarities that she released in 2002 and you can purchase it on iTunes or Amazon. That’s the amazing thing about time - what we think is over and done often comes around again. A new shape or form, never exactly the same as it was, because life changes everything, including the transformation we most commonly refer to as death. Resurrection and return is more common than we normally consider.
The Sun won’t stop rolling around. The sun won’t stop rolling around. The sun won’t stop rolling around in the sky.
You haven’t heard from me in a few weeks because sometimes the rolling of the sun seems to come too quickly. I needed to catch up. The “lazy days of summer” rarely feel lazy to me and are over well before I want them to be. I am not a person who likes September.
Our home in Sicily was broken into. Since the house is still under renovation, there is nothing worth taking. Except our refrigerator, perhaps, and that is much too large to move. Plus, the intruder was unable to get the front gate open. (They entered through an upstairs window.) We are most fortunate that these discoveries did not lead to frustration and vandalism. Instead, only a broken door lock, some broken glass, a little blood, and a window screen off its hinges. This is a blessing, as are our neighbor and friends who noticed the intrusion the very next morning and contacted us. First order of business when we return in late October: installation of motion-detector flood lights. And maybe cameras. Maybe.
Around the same time, the fires started in Idaho. Actually, they started in June, but arrived closer to home beginning in July, when the deeply esteemed Redfish Lodge was closed to save it from a terrible fate. Turns out Idaho Department of Lands spent over $39 million fighting fires this summer, the most recent of which started on Labor Day and was just over the hill from us. What this really means is smoke. Countless days of dangerous air warnings, maps colored red, and admonishments to stay inside, which is the last thing anyone wants to do here in the summer.
* * Have you had wildfires where you live this summer? *
NPR just reported that “Idaho is having its worst wildfire smoke summer in 25 years”. The Wapiti Fire, 78 miles north of us which started on July 24th, is the biggest wildfire in the U.S. How big is the biggest fire? Around 260 square miles, which is bigger than Chicago.
And the blessing here is that we have extremely dedicated and skilled firefighters still on the job. God bless firefighters.
Death paused on its weary way, left the highway and stayed the night. When dawn came on and my mamma rose, my daddy was nowhere in sight. Only a shape, only a memory, only a shell and the sun won’t stop for no one.
My good friend, Nat, shed his mortal body on August 30th. He had been in and out of the hospital since late Spring and I was so grateful to spend four days with him at the end of July, once he was moved to skilled nursing care.
Nat was my Latin teacher in high school and I always liked him. But in the end, he was my friend, a very dear friend, and my weakly lunch buddy for several years while I lived in Tulsa. I made a lot of kitchen sink salads during that time, as well as numerous hot meals, and his compliments were worthy of a true chef, much more than me or my humble cooking. That’s the kind of guy he was: grateful, generous, and kind. I think he believed our weekly dates were for his benefit alone, a way to break up the monotony of living in a senior housing center while he was confined to a scooter. This wasn’t true. Our time together was always for me too. He loved me unconditionally, as only a parent can do, and there is the truth of it: he was a surrogate. Not my father yet very similar in numerous ways. Our time together was both comforting and expansive for both of us. It was also extraordinary in the very “ordinary-ness” of it.
The Covid surprised him, I think, and the stuggle to breathe was frustrating mostly because it interfered with his talking, a by-product of his curiosity. But he knew when the time had come and he was at peace and I was at peace because I knew, breathing issues aside, he was okay. All was okay and would be okay. But the tears still come and the loss still stings because that chapter is over. Now he is transformed and for me there are only memories. These, in themselves, are a blessing, guaranteed to return again, and again.
Whose gonna hold my hand when I’m old? I still have stories to tell. You will wish one day you had paused to listen, but I will be nowhere in sight, I will only be a shape only a memory and the sun won’t stop for no one.
What about you? With summer’s end, the school year beginning, temperatures cooling, and a countdown to a national election, how are you dealing with the current passage of time?
The sun won’t stop rolling around. The sun won’t stop rolling around. The sun won’t stop rolling around in the sky.
Have a listen below. The tempo and clearness may surprise you.
I love the photo of you and Nat. Listening to Holly Near. I did not know her. Thank you
Holly Near was here at three Old Town School of Folk Music last year- great concert - she's made an impressive recovery from a number of health problems. The adoring crowd certainly appreciated it.