In my formative teenage years there was an annual rite of passage, a test of mental and emotional endurance referred to as the “Dark Ages” by cadets at Fishburne Military School, a place where I attended school from 8th grade through graduation. The Dark Ages referred to the period following the conclusion of the winter holiday and ending with the arrival of spring break. It was a bleak time when tempers ran short, emotions ran high, and the all the elements of winter seemed to be working in an unholy alliance against us.
The cold air gnawed at the ears as we marched through the archway on parade, snow and sleet greeted us each morning as we walked to the shower located in the far corners of long stoops. The radiators clanged like lost souls trapped in the bowels of building that had shaped the lives of young men since 1879.
It was an uncomfortably small red-bricked, Spartan world. In the 1980s there were no smart phones, no social media, just endless study, room inspections, a few letters, maybe a care package at mail call, phone booths, and the constant annoying presence of your fellow cadets. Colds and flu flourished, you wanted to sleep, and everyone plotted to ruin your plans.
I mention these scenes of winters past not out of some chest-thumping bravado, but to convey a mood that tends to haunt me to this day. Over my life I certainly had tougher times, but these memories seem to have permeated some deeper crevice of my psyche.
Winter is always a challenge, especially January and February. Maybe it is because I love warm weather, fishing, cookouts, and beaches. As an adult I have found ways to get through this part of the year. I tend to take frequent inward journeys returning to favorite books, sketching, writing, practicing new casts, or wallowing in nostalgia.
Last week, my brother and I attended the Virginia Fly-Fishing and Wine Festival. It is a yearly highlight that was lost to the pandemic over the last couple years. We made a few new friends and visited others. This adventure helped fend off the blues for a few more days. I threw my Christmas tree into the woods the next evening under the cover of darkness.
So far 2022 has been rather troublesome, a pair of big snowstorms, a few days of lost power, grocery store shelves that have fewer items and higher prices. We have a pandemic that continues to disrupt, harm, and separate us. Our nation seems so divided, controlled by fear, propelled by narcissism, and suffering from chronic misinformation and information anxiety.
The last few weeks felt like the Dark Ages of my youth.
So, what rescued us from the malaise of those days? Hope… and the knowledge that the same people annoying you can help you get you through the next day.
It also takes family, dark humor, friendships, faith, a few warm days of spring, dogwood blossoms, great adventurous meals, a couple stiff drinks, a new song, an old song, a renewed love, a favorite pet, plans for fishing trips and the knowledge that we all need to stand up for each other when times get tough.
Know that no matter how much life may suck now, it could be worse, and time will keep advancing. Make your bed, that way at least one goal is accomplished moments after you wake from dreaming.
Hit that to-do checklist with all you got.
Fend off the desire to punch the people making your days more stressful. If you cannot avoid a fight, let us learn from the fat lips and blackened eyes we inflict or suffer.
I remember one winter in 1985 when a simple card from home with a grinning chimp inspired me to smile each day. Sometimes the most random thing transforms into an unexpected gift.
Sometimes, it takes drawing ten Bigfoots, an alien, and a cartoon raccoon to get you through a tough day. I can attest that that method works.
If your inner voice sounds like Tom Waits singing from a dimly lit alley, just listen to what he has to say, smile, and hold on, because spring will arrive sooner than you think.
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