Anticipation

Ten days ago, Ohio was shivering in the grasp of a polar vortex. This week, I’ve spent hours scouring the web for the perfect vacation cottage to rent for our annual pilgrimage to Old Orchard Beach, Maine. Our trip isn’t until July, but a certain family member (who will remain nameless) wants to have the details arranged well in advance, so I’ve been transported to the ocean shore the last few days, hearing the sound of the waves and smelling the fresh ocean breeze in anticipation as I look at potential rental sites on-line.

Anticipation. Carly Simon sang about it in 1971, and a ketchup company used the same tune in its commercials for many years as we waited patiently for our favorite condiment to finally slide out of the bottle. There is something about that word, other than Simon’s catchy melody fragment, that grabs our attention. We anticipate weddings, graduations, births and vacations with great expectations. Somehow, perhaps as a throwback to the teen-age world of magical thinking, we believe that when that wonderful day finally arrives, life will change forever and we will never be the same. And that is quite true. When a baby is born or a spouse joins the family, life is forever changed. But that change does not always bring blue skies and sunshine – we will continue to have our share of rainy days and Mondays, even on vacation (thanks, Karen and Richard Carpenter, for that image).

Sometimes, our heightened focus on what is anticipated keeps us from experiencing the joy and sorrow of the here and now. How often have I been so busy planning and packing for the next thing that is going to happen that I miss what’s right in front of my face?

And here’s the other problem. Sometimes an intense feeling of anticipation dulls the actual experience. That’s what Winnie the Pooh understands. “Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.” Whatever it’s called, the same word describes the first glimpse of the ocean after being cooped up in the car for fourteen hours, somehow even a better feeling than the actual plunge into the ocean.

Working on this column, I had an enlightening moment as I hummed “Anticipation.” It’s not huge in the scope of the universe, but I’m struck by how the tunes of my adolescence continue to speak into my daily living, even many moons later. B.J. Thomas taught me that raindrops would keep falling on our heads, but they can’t defeat us, while the Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose helped me understand that sometimes, “it’s too late to turn back now.” I even wonder if Elton John’s Crocodile Rock was a prophetic marker for my involvement in the development of the Kroc Center here in Ashland, but that may be a bit of a stretch.

I do have some concern for the teens of today, for when they are coming down the homestretch of life, sitting in their rocking chair with their gums and their memories, the hits of 2013 will be echoing: Can’t hold us, we can’t stop, roar, and scream and shout. Not quite the bridge over troubled water that Simon and Garfunkel promised to me.

But I digress. The other part of my vacation equation is that by nature, I’m definitely a homebody. I’m much more content in my own bed and kitchen, and a few days into the vacation experience, I’m singing another 70s favorite, this one from John Denver’s pen: “take me home, country roads, to the place I belong.”

Since we won’t be loading up the car for another 185 days, I’m going to wait a few more months before I get too deep into anticipation mode. But in the meantime, when the snow piles up outside my window, I’ll sneak a peek at the beach photos and smile in anticipation. After all, July is just around the corner!