It was one-of-those-days in California — one that reminded me of the MAMAS AND THE PAPPAS’ “California Dreaming”; except that, I gather that song was written while the group was away from California — in someone else’s winter. Still, we had a beautiful driving rain that reminded me of that song. Actually, we had a classic rainy day: where you get into your biggest, easy chair and warm up with whatever heat makes you the warmest…Fireplace? Space heater? Central heating? Blanket? Whiskey?…and watch a movie; read the paper and/or a book; or, as-in-my-case – try to get into the heads of your college students (through their papers) and try to help them along Life’s Path. I also made quite a few phone calls to friends — because somehow — sheets of rain seem to trigger my unconscious and loosen my tongue in a fashion similar to my second glass of wine.
I once put together a collection of songs that I called Rainy Day Classics — that featured my rainy day favorites: from SIMON AND GARFUNKLE’s “Scarborough Fair” to THE MOODY BLUES “Nights in White Satin” (and of course, ‘California Dreaming’). And I once almost succeeded in seducing a lovely lady on a rainy day with my Rainy Day Classics. I’m glad the attempt failed (she was apparently overcome by rainy day melodies) because we were both married (not to each other) at-the-time.
So what is it about an autumn rain that makes color so magical, so vivid, and, allows our psyche to slip into unconsciousness? I certainly don’t intend on answering this question as I still hold the romantic notion that there is magic in our world. Call me a Tolkien hold over; say that Frodo didn’t have his vision of the Grey Havens at Tom Bombadil’s home – when the sheets of rain parted – I remember it so.
I also wonder about the peculiar framing of my rain-loosed unconscious…I do remember the woodland spirits of my Michigan birthplace affecting me tremendously – incurring images of leathered moccasins, teepees and tribal communion – but somehow I have lost my tethers to those images.
They have been replaced by images of my time in South Africa, renewed (in no small part) by a powerful visitation from an old South African friend – a being who records his experiences better than I do – like no one else I have known. So now, I remember the Cape Town rains – as Table Mountain played hide-and-seek with all in her protected shadow; which-in-turn triggers memories of English rains and peering for Stonehenge in the green, misted countryside; which-in-turn triggers memories of German rains and the slick cobblestones and smell of fresh bread.
Ahhhhhhhh…rainy days, er, daze…when all time becomes one time and we don’t march to the tick of the White Man’s tock – where Nature is both shrouded and brilliantly colored – symbolizing the paradox of our lives on this particular plane.
I miss my big buddy, Scooby – who really knew how to appreciate a rainy day and curled that 150 lb. body up against my easy chair where I sat and read, or watched “The Lord of the Rings” with the boys. I can’t replace the Scoobster with another dog now – because I will be traveling a lot in the near future, and, I am convinced that dogs pine when they are away from their human companions. In fact one-of-my-students suggested (in their paper) – that dogs and humans have been co-evolving! I, I, I…I think I’ll let that thought settle with the rain-on-the-roof…