Ponderings

Enough is enough, and we have had enough and more. And it’s killing us.

I’m not referring to the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, although the thousands of Americans and tens of thousands of Iraqis who have already died are clearly enough. Though I am perfectly able and willing to rant and rave, the war is not my soapbox de jour. Neither is the presidential campaign. Though I confess to being up to date on the latest delegate count, the who-hit-who-first squabble of the presidential campaigns is not my concern today. I’m fed up with something that is far more insidious and far more likely to unravel our civilization.

Rain.

We know things are drastic when the opening day at Busch Stadium is interrupted. Flood warnings have become more commonplace than hot dogs. Coming home from a brief vacation last week, we were stunned to see the devastation of the flooding in rural Arkansas and Missouri. Although apple pie is going to be in short supply if the sun doesn’t come out to coax the buds into bloom, the gravity far exceeds the dessert menu.

But I don’t need the flood warnings to know that we’ve had enough rain.

The effects of these endless spring showers are evident more closely to home than the swollen rivers. More closely even than the crabbiness at the dinner table. The effect is in fact as close as my breathing, my spirit. It’s another rainy Monday (though the calendar says Thursday) and I’m gloomy. As I sit in my window typing, I instinctively look up in anticipation each time the clouds shift. Maybe, just maybe, this shift will let loose a ray of sunshine.

Admittedly, I am prone to melancholy. I come by it naturally, perhaps even a genetic predisposition to feel cloudy. At times the melancholy (which now has a medical term: distymia) dips into full-scale depression, for which we turn to the wonder of modern pharmaceuticals. For the most part, though, a sunny day will do the trick. The sun warms through the fog and lightens my spirit.

Knowing this quirk, I try to take full advantage of sunbathing opportunities. For years I convinced my children that hanging around the Maplewood Pool was for their enjoyment, fully knowing that it was my spirit that was in need of refueling. Vacations to the beach are a spiritual pilgrimage and don’t come nearly often enough. I have even found a couple of outdoor chores to enjoy (nothing with dirt!) in search of sun.

Given that I’m doing my part, it seems a little cooperation from a higher power is in order. Even if she’s not inclined to grant wishes just for the fun of it, no one can deny the positive implications of a sunny period. If only the sun would come out, I know that I would brush the dog, appease the building inspector (put railings on the front porch), and then secure world peace. Imagine a world where millions of melancholy people warmed with sun at the same time (kind of like a John Lennon song). Seriously, with sunshine all things are possible.

An abiding mystery, though, remains - the prevalence of depression in sun-drenched Phoenix. The rates of depression are just as high in Phoenix as elsewhere and the substance abuse rate is higher. Have you noticed that there aren’t many Arizonans who sunbathe? In fact, during my brief stint out in the “valley” some years back my dog refused to go outside and even I found myself closing the shades. Could it be that too much of a good thing isn’t good?

Still, a sunny day would be nice.