July, July!

July is the seventh month of the Julian and Gregorian calendars. It was named in honor of Julius Caesar by the Roman senate.

I read a biography of Julius Caesar a couple of months ago. Why? I don’t know. Julius Caesar was my favorite Shakespearean play when I was in high school. Because of my 10th grade English teacher Ms. Hentges. She was really good at being a 10th grade English teacher.

Incidentally, Ms. Hentges was one of the reasons I became a high school English teacher, though 10th grade was one of the few grades I never taught. 11th grade was my favorite to teach. Hamlet was my favorite Shakespearean play to teach, though I taught Romeo and Juliet a million times in 9th grade English. Did you know the state of Iowa is banning the teaching of Romeo and Juliet because of sexual conduct? Of all the texts to ban. 2023 is absurd.

Caesar comes off as an empathetic character in Shakespeare’s play. Easy to root for. His biography tells a different story. Roman generals were ruthless. The quest for power makes people do terrible things. Like ban books. Or, in Caesar’s case, exterminate large populations.

I don’t want to ban books. Or exterminate large populations. You know what I do want? July to go on forever.

***

July is beginning as I’m writing this blog. And I’d be okay if July went on forever. Think Groundhog’s Day starring the venerable and recently disgraced Bill Murray.

July is smack dab in the middle of summer. The end of the spring semester is in my rearview mirror. The beginning of the fall semester is miles away. I’m surrounded by the thing I seem to seek more than anything else: Open space.

The biggest draw about becoming a professor for me, when I was a high school teacher, was autonomy over my schedule. Professors do not work a 9-5, I thought way back then (the early 2010’s), and I don’t want to work a 9-5. I’m now 8 years into being a college professor. Staring down the barrel of a 9th year in academia. No, I don’t work a 9-5. But it is also true that I’m never not working. I check my email 10 times a day. Even on Saturdays. I’m working on 5 academic articles in various states of completion. I have an academic book that is almost under contract. There’s conference presentations to propose. I’m editing an academic journal, co-charing sections for two different academic conferences, and preparing to work on a grant submission for the fall. The list in this sprawling paragraph hasn’t even touched on coordinating the English Education program at The University of Iowa (go Hawks), or the classes I need to plan for next year.

Whew. That’s lots of work. Yes, I’m doing most of this work with other people, but it is also true that, despite my lack of a 9-5, I’m often a very busy Sam. Or, even if I’m playing Zelda which I’ve done quite a lot of this summer, I’m still thinking about all the other things I ought to be working on.

My dad was a long-term care insurance salesman during all of my childhood. An independent contractor. No boss. Many days he’d wake up, decide he didn’t want to work, and go for a walk in the woods. Or lounge around in his underwear. I could do that, I’d think to myself. Looking back, I know Dad was busier than he seemed to me. Always taking phone calls. Always trying to push sales through. He was a very, very good salesmen. Charismatic and driven. Still, early on, I saw a model for the thing I wanted out of adulthood: Open space.

And there I’ve used a colon three times in this blog. I’m not a fan of the colon. A better writer would figure out how to craft a sentence to avoid it. And don’t get me started on the semi-colon. Waste of a character if you ask me.

***

All of this is to say that July is a good time of year, despite the humidity here in Iowa. And I’d be okay if July bled into September, October, November, etc. Let that open space run wild.

You can’t stop time. The back of my head is proof of that. The wrinkles at the corner of my eyes. My enormous children. Time just keeps moving along. Rather, living things bloom and wilt. Time, as Albert Einstein might suggest, is far more convoluted than it is linear. So maybe there is a multiverse where July goes on forever. A multiverse where books aren’t banned and Caesar didn’t mutilate hundreds of thousands of people. Whose to say?

What I know is this. I resolve, as I type this blog early in July, to enjoy July as much as I am able to enjoy July. To put work off. To go for walks in the woods and lounge around in my underwear.

And you’re welcome for leaving you with that final image.