It felt like dawn broke a minute later than yesterday...

Yesterday was the Summer Solstice, the longest stretch of daylight of the year (in the northern hemisphere) and a day that both signifies the start of summer but also traditionally is a time to celebrate the life-giving nature of the sun.

The sun, of course, could not care less.

The hottest days of the year are still to come, ironically, despite the fact that daylight now diminishes just a bit each day until December. I only mention this because much of the United States is sweltering in record heat for this early in late spring/summer.

The science says that the heat grows due to the continued accumulation of the Sun's energy. It's a big planet and it takes some time to get all those molecules speeding up.

The day after the Summer Solstice has another symbol, at least for me. I am reminded that we are all on an inexorable path toward the cold and dark of winter. Around here we likely will still enjoy hot to mild conditions for another four months, but the "end" of summer looms.

You might wonder if I simply enjoy melancholy or am feeling depressed. Why not enjoy the warmth and the sun and the extended daylight? Can't we all just be happy?

You would be right to prefer focusing on "now" versus a somewhat vague (if inevitable) "then." But the Solstice comes fairly close to my July 12 birthday, when I will be turning 74. 

Today, that got me wondering about when my personal Solstice might have been. Life expectancy for a college-educated American white male is about 83 years, which puts me startlingly close to that looming number. Plenty of people live longer, of course, and I plan to be one of them.

I guess my personal Solstice would have been about age 42 or thereabouts (though if I live to 100, it would be 50). That was 1992 for me, and my less-than-reliable memory is that those "golden" years were quite good. I could spend some time reminiscing about them but "Glory days, they'll pass you by..." echoes in my head. And our time on earth can't be scientifically determined like a seasonal calendar.

Raw numbers have little relationship with happiness or satisfaction, of course. 

For instance, yesterday Kathleen and I were talking about how weird it is that we were able to buy a $25,000 CD without much discussion this week. For much of our younger married life, we didn't have that much money in the bank... of even close to that. Now we have enough to consider doing what REALLY rich people do: make money without doing, well, anything. 

That money is locked up for seven months (without penalties for early withdrawal). The only risk we have is that something unforeseen might arise that would demand the use of that money. That risk is quite small, even for a couple who are past their Summer Solstice. 

The Summer Solstice has a very different meaning for our grandsons in Seattle, who today are celebrating the last day of school (I know, going this late seems unspeakably cruel). 

For them, summer beckons and may never end.