Maybe now that we're on the back side of the solstice, it'll start cooling off. I know, highly unlikely.
The longest day of the year was this week and I should know. I got married on the longest day of the year once. Turns out marriages that take place on the longest day of the year (June 21 then and now) are 67% more likely to be disproportionately short.
Considering half the marriages in this country end before death do us part already, the odds aren't good if you've chosen the solstice for that once in a lifetime special day. Best to go with the day after and leave the solstice alone. The solstice is its own special day and suffers no coattail riding.
No one told me about the odds against solstice day weddings before I foolishly hopped in that hot air balloon. It's probably because I hadn't made them up yet. But if I had and somebody had told me, I'd have paid close attention.
Is the longest day of the year really the one to get married on?
It's been 36 years since I started asking that question. The truth is it wouldn't have mattered if it was the longest or shortest day of the year or any in between. The son of a son of a son of a divorcee has no problem finding the footsteps to follow.
They lead right off a cliff. When I was a kid I thought the family business was building roads. One day I realized it was burning bridges.
After all these years, apologies have piled up like bricks. It takes two to marry but only one to ruin a life or four. Some things are doomed before they even bloom. But when it's generational, who carries that weight?
Who can husband if they've never seen a husband in their lives?
It's a fever dream every year around this time. The solstice brings it out and whaps me upside the head like a dirty mallet. I'm just another old white guy suffering heat stroke.
I'm not sure what took me down this path. I was going to complain about the heat and the next thing I know I'm on a divorce tangent. My own divorce tangent.
Clearly the heat the last couple of weeks has gotten to me. I'm definitely feeling woozy. Being stuck in the dryest spring we've had in years isn't helping one bit. You're listening to a guy who needs a cold drink of water and a refreshing dunk in the healing waters of the Russell Fork.
But the river's about dry and no matter how much water I drink, I'm still feeling thirsty. No amount can satisfy.
Maybe it's because my son turns thirty this week. The son of a son of a son of a son of a divorcee has already followed the family's path. Another generation connected by disconnection.
Another victim of the longest day. We're all just looking for some shade.