Jenifer’s Journal: What the walrus said …

Hello, September! 

Well, a couple of days ago, I seemed to be in that hinge of a place again where my column could swing one way or the other. In the past, I’ve occasionally been indecisive for a day or two about my topic, but usually it’ll click, then a title often comes, and for better or worse I’m off.

Recently, however, I’ve just been off,  period — unsure, uncommitted, undone about what to write. I don’t think it’s for lack of subject matter, in fact, quite the contrary. But that abundance seems to be separating itself into two very distinct teams, the existential, big ideas team vs. the humble, mundane-magic-of-small-topics team.

Yesterday, the column I finally thought sure I was writing was titled: The Freedom of Irrationality (no kidding). It was another of my XL ideas about the tectonic plates of society shifting. Look out below. Even while knowing it was waaay off my beat yet needing to express the gravity, the sheer bull-goose loony craziness, of our present existential … situation.

But then, it was suddenly September, and though I’m sure that in a week or so it’ll be hotter than the hammers of hell, yesterday, and today, too, has been filled with that ineffable September light that rode in on an edge of autumnal air and somehow managed to cool off the flaming bullhorn of my big ideas for a while, thank goodness, so I could just breathe instead of think. 

I’m still not sure how to shrink a topic as important as saving our democracy, for instance, so that it fits into an 800-word column, but the fact that I keep trying is definitely absurd. I needed to see that with the help of a little September clarity.

Actually, my escape from the crushing weight of ponderous thinking and into the relief of absurdity began two days ago, Aug. 31, the eve of September, as it bid a delightfully absurd adieu to August. (Though they’re supposedly synonymous, I see “irrational” as void of all logic, unavailable to reason, while the “absurd,” as Camus has observed, “springs from a comparison” and seems to me to acknowledge logic and reason while existing in spite, and maybe because, of it — just sayin.’)

Anyway, I was in the thick of my topics wrestling match back on Thursday the 31st, but I had to call it on account of having to show up at high noon at the school cafeteria because Peter Waldner, of many-faceted fame, was filming the final scene — a pie fight —-of his second “Freida” opus (I think, like The “Terminator,” it may be turning into a franchise).

Several community members of much saner reputation than mine were also in attendance, one dressed as a nun, another as a chef, yet another as a wilted flower child, and so on. There were a couple of innocent children there, too, about to not only witness, but participate in what can only be described as Banana (chocolate or vanilla) Cream Pie pandemonium. In the end, the carnage of graham cracker crusts and cream was complete, a true a-pie-calypse (sorry) with “victims” bubbling with laughter and dripping with pie, a full-throttled absurdity breaking good and spawning a new phrase: “Taking pie.”

That evening, after I sluiced off the remaining vanilla cream, I attended the cast party for this year’s Historical Society production, “The Lords of Menantic,” written, produced and directed, as was the cast party, by Lisa Shaw and her indispensable helpmeet, Tom Hashagen.

Their lovely poolside venue was a match for the beautiful evening, but that rambunctious ripple of absurdity that has infused all three of the society’s productions — an unlikely ambition to combine historical facts, human frailties and music in one marvelous mix — has inspired the delicious camaraderie that binds together all who have participated.  That was the hallmark of the night.

At the very same time, at Fiske Field, International Overdose Awareness Day was being observed, presented by The Shelter Island Health and Wellness Alliance in partnership with the Shelter Island Library, in order, as Nancy Green wrote in her August 24 Reporter article, “to not only remember those lost, but to provide hope and support for those who struggle with alcoholism and substance abuse disorder. Unfortunately, we all know someone who has been affected by this insidious disease.”  

All this kaleidoscope of human experience occurring in one small 24-hour period on one small island. Big stuff, little stuff, serious and silly, no topic too big, or too small.

The time has come,” the walrus said,

To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing wax

Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

And whether pigs have wings. — Lewis Carroll