Here comes the sun

But not everything has to be the way it once was. Or can be.

Long after my 12 years of summer vacations were swallowed up by decades of whatever this life has become, what endures is something else: A sense of summer. The sensations of summer. The welcome of summer.

Sunshine that comes early, lingers late and departs softly. A morning warmth that gives way to hot days. The feeling that there is just a little more time to slow down, even to stop. Time to raise your face to the sky, to feel the sun on your arms. It can mean moments of quiet, of stillness, of lowered voices and long and comfortable pauses in an easy conversation.

Yes, the hectic pace of our lives continues. Instead of rushing children to and from school, and then to practice, and then home and a hurried dinner, they are rushed to camps and day programs. These camps look pretty good, by the way: fun, engaging, creative. Indeed, they look as good, if not better, then those long summer days when I had nothing to do (not that there is anything wrong with that, either).

But, at the end of the day, after dinner, there can be a moment that only summer can provide. A moment to sit quietly. To think. To listen. To feel the day come gently to a close.

Paula the Painter is from Kentucky, and she tells me that generations there have perfected the practice of “setting out.” This often requires chairs — preferably wooden — a porch, some lemonade and a companion or two.

My house has a front porch well suited for “setting out” and the lawn chairs there are inviting. I live in a neighborhood of walkers — people walking their dogs, themselves or each other. People will stop and say hello. Maybe pause for a few additional words. In special moments, they will bring the dog up the front walk for some sniffing and a wagging tale. In the longer moments in between, I watch and think. I put my phone aside and let my mind wander.

Much of my life is about water. I swim. I have been swimming with the San Mateo Masters program for nearly 50 years. Usually, this means an early morning workout at one of the spectacular pools at College of San Mateo or Cañada College in Redwood City. For most of the year, the workouts are in darkness, punctuated on occasion by some marvelous sunrises late in the session. But at this time of year, the early workouts can begin in soft sunlight, and as the sun rises and the workout continues, you can feel the warmth on your back. It is important, sometimes, to stop long enough to look around.

Having been fortunate to grow up here — and even more fortunate to be able to stay here — summer means the beach and the ocean. They call to me always, but in a strong and primal way this time of year.

There is more to swimming than a workout, more than I can put into words. Someone who has done this well is Bonnie Tsui in her book, “Why We Swim.” And there is more to water than I can describe. Walter J. Nichols does this well in his book, “The Blue Mind.”

The weather reports this week are about heat waves and climbing temperatures and extreme weather is a hardship for many in a place where we rely on the ocean to bring cooling evenings. Sometimes, the fog pours over the western hills and looks like a wave that is crashing down and it chills us.

But summer is about more than weather. It is about a place and a time in ourselves. Summer lingers.

Mark Simon is a veteran journalist, whose career included 15 years as an executive at SamTrans and Caltrain. He can be reached at marksimon@smdailyjournal.com.