PRIVATE EYE SEZ: I Love The Nightlight

What's all this I keep hearing about a supposed One Bad Summer? We've barely skimmed the pool and people are already dismissing the entire season as a flop. Whatever happened to "the sun will come out tomorrow?" 

I would never try to sell you any brand of "blind optimism" - I'm anatomically incapable of it. But what I can offer is unadulterated perspective; you're most likely going about your day not appreciating or even noticing the beauty of your short journey, but rather eating your heart out over whatever's troubling you this very moment. Know that every season comes with its unique style of challenges, but hardships don't respect a calendar. On the smallest scale, perhaps you feel Summertime owes you the fragment of leisure and relief to which you became accustomed as a child, but instead you're confined to the couch with connective tissue damage while the rest of the world is attending outdoor events and Running Up That Hill. On a larger scale, perhaps mass murder and diminishing human rights have got you down. These are all valid stressors with enough muscle to ruin an entire weekend, but we're too human to resign our entire disposition to a crisis or cause that is beyond our reach or understanding. Sure you can bear the colors and crusade against these tribulations, and then that can be your thing - the thing that gives you joy or purpose. The rest of us don't have time to choose our battles - we're too busy allowing them to choose us.

So what are we to do? The better question is: what can we count on? We're blessed with daily reminders of how quickly change can occur - and in the words of Dick Hallorann, "...not all of them was good." We're very much on our own and we control nothing - so, I place my faith in the odds & ends that retain this control; not in the people because they're fallible, but in object permanence and scientific circumstance. My credence rests upon my bathroom nightlight.

Every night, once dusk rolls around, I switch it on, and it stays on until morning. Through the night as I slumber, 4 watts of warm brightness illuminate my personal comfort station - whether I need it or not. When I do, it's inviting and unintrusive enough that it doesn't occur to me to appreciate it; I take it for granted which is a dangerous sensibility that should be embraced sparingly. When it burns out, I replace it; the bulbs come in packs of four and are readily available in most stores. But otherwise, it's the last thought I take to bed with me; whatever other worries stay on my mind, I know that light is in the other room, shining for me.

- P. Eye