When I think about the summer, I recall scorching days spent building forts, poolside french fries with a side of laughter, and languid nights watching fireworks while swatting mosquitos. Summer means tiger blood snowcones, riding bikes until the rubber melts, and trying to make a few bucks doing lawn work.
Summer didn’t seem to mean much of anything when I reached adulthood though. Approaching my 32 birthday, I’m starting to wonder why.
Do you remember…
wishing to be older? I do. Trapped by my minuscule body and limited capacity for fruitful labor, I dreamed of the day I could be my own man and make a life for myself. I was going to explore the world! Climb the biggest mountains, dive with sharks, eat the craziest foods, and become SOMEBODY.
Although I’ve done some of this, there’s a lot of exploring left to do.
It’s a cliche that youth is wasted on the young, but it’s a cliche for a reason. Lounging around the abandoned pump-jacks, imagining what life could be, it’s easy to take your potential for granted. Looking back, with the benefit of 20/20 vision, you say you could have done more, lived more, appreciated more, etc.
I wanted to grow up so badly, I ignored many of the joys found in childhood. I avoided risk to stay out of trouble, lost friends who were labeled bad influences, and kept wishing for freedom.
Hard to accept how free I was, being my own jailer.
Seasons
I’ve noticed people referring to stages of life as “seasons” lately. I don’t hate it. For me, it implies each stretch of time is going give way to the next same as the weather shifts and the leaves turn. Sometimes it’s so gradual you don’t even notice. Sometimes it’s so fast you get whiplash.
Right now, it’s Summer in Austin, Texas.
Hot is an understatement.
I went on a walk yesterday that was so sweaty, I counted it as my sauna session.
Two birds I guess.
When it gets this hot, I tend to slow down. While I know some people thrive in the heat, those people are either crazy or Aggies… or both. Personally, I think A/C is the peak of human achievement: just ahead of steak and Harry Potter.
In this season of life, I feel slow. Especially now that it’s Summer. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
Sandlot
I’ve been thinking about the Sandlot recently.
Easily one of my favorite (and best) movies ever made, it tells the story of a kid learning how to make friends, play baseball, and live life. The scared little boy we meet at the opening of the film, with his plastic glove and awkward shyness, is replaced by someone ready to take on giant dogs and mythic blind men.
Great movie.
If you’ll recall, at the cinematic masterpiece’s midpoint we see the neighborhood celebrating the 4th of July. It’s a beautifully shot sequence, panning over the young boy’s faces as fireworks cast a mystical light over everything, and (of course) they begin to play their favorite game under the colorful explosions.
In that sequence, I feel the magic of the moment unfolding.
So often, I’m in such a hurry to accomplish my goals or complete my tasks, that I forget why I’m doing these things in the first place. I love words, but as a copywriter, I often forget to enjoy picking out just the right ones. My brother and I have a podcast (it’s really good and y’all should check it out), but if I’m not careful I focus on how many listens we have instead of focusing on how incredible it is I get to create comedy with my favorite person.
The boys playing baseball at the Sandlot didn’t keep score - they played for the love of the game.
By slowing down this season, I’m learning to play for love.
Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.
This newsletter is new, but already I’m finding love for Cowboy Up.
You’ll notice it’s a few days late this week, and I have mixed feelings about that.
Ultimately, I decided it just wasn’t finished, so I was allowed to push my publishing date. It won’t happen often, but it will happen. I honestly struggled with the decision: do I release something unfinished, do I write something easy, or do I push publishing?
Because I want to be proud of these, the only thing I could do was wait til’ I was done.
I had to slow down.
This is, after all, Cowboy Up. So I’ve got a little childhood story for you.
We always had chores growing up. Scooping dog poop, pulling weeds, cleaning the driveway, etc. They were never outlandish or too much, but they were almost always tedious.
I remember washing the cars in the driveway one summer afternoon. One of those clear days when you’d rather be with your friends stirring up small-town trouble than getting scorched by molten concrete.
In a hurry to be released from the burden of soaping up greasy tires, I was speeding through the process: not scrubbing the wheel wells, barely touching the headlights, and definitely not rinsing correctly.
When my dad came out to check my progress, I remember thinking how impressed he’d be that I finished so quickly.
“Well, you knocked the dirt off of it, but I reckon you’re not done.”
Flabbergasted, I asked what in the just-washed tarnation he was talking about.
He walked over to the vehicle, showing me the soap streaks from not rinsing, the still greasy tires, and the fact that I hadn’t actually dried the roof at all.
“Son, you’re in a hurry to go see your friends, so you cut some corners. I understand why you’re in a hurry, but you did a piss-poor job of washing this car, so you’re going to have to start all over. Had you done it right the first time, you’d be done. Now it’s going to take you twice as long and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”
Hate it when he’s right.
“Remember son, slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”
I missed hanging out with my friends that day. And it would take a few more times to let the lesson sink in. Arguably, I’m still learning it.
Sometimes in life, you gotta slow down. Take stock. Enjoy playing baseball under the fireworks.
Who knows how much smoother that’ll make the next season. And if you’re unwilling to take the slow parts in stride, life has a funny way of sitting you down for the next one.
Self Check
Where am I rushing? Why am I in a hurry? Where can I be a little more intentional and enjoy the slowness?