The Middle Place

Mid-March is always a difficult time for me.  Despite my best efforts, I often find myself plunged into a hazy, confused sadness around this time of year.  And no, it has nothing to do with the fact that inevitably, my bracket has been totally busted (burst?) at this juncture. 

Even with positive self-talk and an extra dose of morning affirmations in the mirror, I can't help but feel anxious and gloomy. 

It begins the same way every year.  The weather begins to warm.  Daylight savings time arrives.  I start to notice more and more out-of-state license plates.  I get an uncomfortable lump in the back of my throat.  And then, just about the time I think I must be imaging the whole thing, it happens. 

This year, "it" came in the form of a middle aged man.  On my way to work last week, I watched in awe and horror as he bounded energetically across 4 lanes of morning rush hour traffic, camera bounding happily from a strap around his neck.  He crossed the lanes quickly to join the rest of his party so he could take a picture of some shrimping boats.  No, I'm not kidding.  Yes, he was wearing a fanny pack. 

Friends, tourist season in Charleston has arrived. 

Granted, tourists do bring with them economic stimulus (stimuli?).  I get it.  But they also bring with them something destructive. 

Their summer clothes. 

Their white pants, short shorts, tank tops, sandals (often with socks), sundresses, and seersucker. 

It is not even springtime yet.  Yes, the temperatures are high.  Especially so if you come from some northern frozen tundra.  I get that you are eager to leave the parka behind in favor of some lighter sportswear.  But it is March. 

Seeing these radical displays of "fashion" makes me start to question myself.  Could I, too, wear linen?  Am I the crazy one?  The answer to both questions is, clearly, NO. 

So on I will forge, through the next 22 days until Easter.  And I will wear light wool and corduroy, essentially broiling each one of my internal organs, just to prove a silent point that probably no one will even notice. 

Sometimes, you've just got to take a stand.