Open Season
September 1st was a beautiful day at the Jersey Shore. I sat on the beach reading for almost 8 hours. At one point I became absorbed in watching a three-on-three tag football game. The game was made up of boys from two families in three sizes—small, medium, and beer gut. The Smalls were fast and eager, overcompensating a bit, veering off in the wrong direction, Mediums were graceful in receiving the ball and made their juts back and forth look fairly effortless, and the Beer-Guts were vocal and a little lethargic.
I was throwing a football in Central Park a few weeks ago which led me to yell “Ugggh, I throw like a girl.” So, after observing the beach game for a few minutes I estimated that my skills could be improved by focusing on the 6-year-old Smalls’ technique. After a few plays, a Small was hit in the chest during an attempted catch and crumbled to the ground to pout. His Beer-Gut counterpart yelled “Oh come on, you’re OK, get up.” And after a couple minutes, he turned to his daughter “Megan, wanna play?” A bean-pole 10-year-old ran over to the “field” lunging and clapping her hands, ready for the game, but also followed by a toddler and four-year-old who skipped around the playing area. The Beer-Guts looked at each other with slight frustration and at the threat of his place being taken, the injured Small rose, ready to play again.
I found myself in a strange moment sitting there alone, surrounded by young families, half-way into a book, with most of my New York anxieties buried at the back of my brain. This week of nearly perfect end-of-summer weather makes me a little sad in general. I love August and I’m not sure where it went. Right now merging back into the day-to-day my mind is racked with the things I want to aim for this Fall; overarching to-dos that quieted in the end of summer heat and travel. There’s a lot in my head and it’s been keeping me up at night. So I am making lists in a new notebook— I have graduate school applications to begin, some gallery shows to apply for, a new work schedule, at least a dozen images that I need to get down on paper, a friends’ wedding to look forward to, and apple pie season, I’d like to write more often, work on my headstand balance, and I don’t know, maybe improve my football throw.
I was throwing a football in Central Park a few weeks ago which led me to yell “Ugggh, I throw like a girl.” So, after observing the beach game for a few minutes I estimated that my skills could be improved by focusing on the 6-year-old Smalls’ technique. After a few plays, a Small was hit in the chest during an attempted catch and crumbled to the ground to pout. His Beer-Gut counterpart yelled “Oh come on, you’re OK, get up.” And after a couple minutes, he turned to his daughter “Megan, wanna play?” A bean-pole 10-year-old ran over to the “field” lunging and clapping her hands, ready for the game, but also followed by a toddler and four-year-old who skipped around the playing area. The Beer-Guts looked at each other with slight frustration and at the threat of his place being taken, the injured Small rose, ready to play again.
I found myself in a strange moment sitting there alone, surrounded by young families, half-way into a book, with most of my New York anxieties buried at the back of my brain. This week of nearly perfect end-of-summer weather makes me a little sad in general. I love August and I’m not sure where it went. Right now merging back into the day-to-day my mind is racked with the things I want to aim for this Fall; overarching to-dos that quieted in the end of summer heat and travel. There’s a lot in my head and it’s been keeping me up at night. So I am making lists in a new notebook— I have graduate school applications to begin, some gallery shows to apply for, a new work schedule, at least a dozen images that I need to get down on paper, a friends’ wedding to look forward to, and apple pie season, I’d like to write more often, work on my headstand balance, and I don’t know, maybe improve my football throw.
posted by Rebecca at 12:19 PM
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