Summertime, and the livin' ain't easy …

In an earlier era my 1957 bride and I spent 10 years in Logan, Utah (among a zillion other places), scenic home of Utah State University. At a cocktail party the college president's wife, whose name was Phyllis, said summer was her favorite time in Logan because all the students had gone home. As summer winds down in Sandpoint I feel like Phyllis. I like Sandpoint better after the tourists have gone home. Back-slapping chamber of commerce boosters may call me treasonous for such sentiments but as a comfortably retired (1986) antidiluvian, I just give it right back: "I'm rubber, you're glue; everything you say bounces off me and sticks onto you!" So there.

Together with climate change, over-population is humankind's most threatening eventual adversary. (With apologies to those who feel that if the global population explosion just joins this or that particular religion, and tithes its fair share, then everything will be okay. The more the merrier). Climate change is manifest in the melting polar ice caps, California's monumental wildfires and deadly 150 mile per hour winds and floodwaters down in Dixie. But for people profusion one need only drive downtown in Sandpoint on an August weekend. We are a mini-Los Angeles in the making.

The continuing stress of the coronavirus and a divisive culture shaped by the personal values of our Predator-In-Chief have not caused the summer population boom in Sandpoint; but both have contributed to what appears to be a new surliness. Some of our finest local eateries, like DiLuna's, weary of growing rudeness, have placed small signs on their premises saying "Be Kind. It's Contagious." These are aimed mainly but not entirely at testy out-of-towners driven from home playgrounds by lockdown mandates and flocking here because we are less inclined to tell people how to protect themselves and others. Even if it kills us.

Sandpoint is still the best place my 1957 bride and I have ever lived. The trick is to keep it liveable, especially in summer. As the old song says, in swarming Sandpoint summertime "ain't what she used to be." Unless cars and crowds during coronavirus are what floats your boat. If so, good luck. And stay safe.

TIM HENNEY

Sandpoint