Blossom Day
When I was a senior in college, my friend and housemate, Marc, had a girlfriend, Tali. One night we were partying in our off-campus apartment, and Marc, Tali and everyone else at the party went off somewhere, leaving me with Tali’s mom, who was visiting from Idaho.
I can remember being “bummed” (opposite of “psyched” which was the other emotion I was capable of at that juncture) about the situation. If I remember correctly, Tali’s mom was in a hammock which we had hanging somewhere inside the apartment, and I sat on the floor with a beer near her. College.
I can remember telling Tali’s mom that I was worried that when I graduated, I’d miss two things - ritual and community, each of which I had really developed at Tufts. And I remember that she emphatically told me that if I wanted those things in my life, I needed to work to make them happen. They don’t just appear out of nowhere.
Those were wise words that have stayed with me. In terms of community - I’ve been proactive and good. And that is true of ritual as well - and I’m about to celebrate the fourth or fifth instance of “Blossom Day” which serves as a good example.
We have a tree outside our narrow house in Brooklyn. The tree is small and slightly late to blossom, but it is beautiful when it does. We celebrate blossom day the first weekend after it blooms, and we celebrate with our immediate next door neighbors, Issa and Johanna, and our friends down the street, Mike and Peg. And whoever else is around. We celebrate by having a backyard cookout.
It is not a deep, cultural ritual - rather a casual, lightweight gathering, but the unique calendaring of the event, and the local celebration of our beautful piece of nature, showing it’s stuff - blossoming - is sort of touching. Something we all look forward to.
Blossom day is tomorrow.
