Mind Picker: Tunesday : In the Summertime

In the Summertime

(Dorset, R) Performed by Mungo Jerry

In the summertime when the weather is hot
You can stretch right up and touch the sky
When the weather's fine
You got women, you got women on your mind
Have a drink, have a drive
Go out and see what you can find

If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal
If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel
Speed along the lane
Do a ton or a ton and twenty-five
When the sun goes down
You can make it, make it good and really fine

We're no threat people, we're not dirty, we're not mean
We love everybody, but we do as we please
When the weather's fine
We go fishing or go swimming in the sea
We're always happy
Life's for living, yeah, that's our philosophy

Sing along with us, dee-dee dee-dee dee
Da doo da-da da, yeah, we're hap-pap-py
Da da da, dee da doo dee da doo da doo da
Da doo da-da da, dee da da dee da da

When the winter's here, yeah, it's party time
Bring your bottle, wear your bright clothes
'Cause it will soon be summertime
And we'll sing again
We'll go driving or maybe we'll settle down
If she's rich, if she's nice
Bring your friends and we'll all go into town

In the summertime when the weather is hot
You can stretch right up and touch the sky
When the weather's fine
You got women, you got women on your mind
Have a drink, have a drive
Go out and see what you can find

If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal
If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel
Speed along the lane
Do a ton or a ton and twenty-five
When the sun goes down
You can make it, make it good and really fine

We're no threat people, we're not dirty, we're not mean
We love everybody, but we do as we please
When the weather's fine
We go fishing or go swimming in the sea
We're always happy
Life's for living, yeah, that's our philosophy

Sing along with us, dee-dee dee-dee dee
Da doo da-da da, yeah, we're hap-pap-py
Da da da, dee da doo dee da doo da doo da
Da doo da-da da, dee da da dee da da

Boy, you've gotta love the unlikely looking pop stars we had back in the 70s, and worse than that are the terribly sexist lyrics (If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal, If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel) that never phased me until I saw them in writing. Different time, different standards, I guess, and I won't let my current bemusement stop me from using the song that was stuck in my mind (sans lyrics) while Rudy and I went on a tubing adventure with some women from our gym last weekend; the skiffle vibe perfectly captures the easy-breezy joy of the moment.

Jenny from the gym organised this trip (so I had no say in the route or location, but was happy that it fit in with my own plans for the summer), so Rudy and I needed to drive forty-five minutes south to get to the Brant Conservation Area, where a shuttle brought us to the launching point in downtown Paris. Instead of the round tubes that Canoeing the Grand provided for our group last week, Grand River Rafting uses one person rafts, and with the kayak paddles provided, Rudy and I found ourselves paddling pretty much the whole time - despite the guide explaining at the beginning that the river is flowing at about twice its usual speed for this time of year, it was pretty calm, and just like in the stretch we tubed the week before, there were quite a few shallow areas that required heavy pushing to get off the rocks (and once I had to stand up to push the two of us off the stone field where we bottomed out). It wasn't too much work, though - it was comfortable to sit with my legs outstretched and my back supported, and despite thinking that my hands and forearms would be aching the next day, they were fine; if we're trying to live more actively, I can't really complain about having had to expend some energy on this.

There had been calls for thunderstorms before we headed out, and at one point, the sky did darken and thunder began to rumble in the distance. Out of our group, only a Mom who had brought her daughter along chose to leave the river and wait out whatever was approaching, and as for the rest of us, we got a bit showered on but the storm never developed into much; the thunder stopped nearly immediately and we never did see lightning. (I did point out to Rudy that if we got zapped and died, it would be a pretty stupid way to go with people commenting on any online articles about our deaths that we were idiots if we didn't know to get off of the water in a thunderstorm; that we had conveniently cleaned up the gene pool; that we were Darwin in action. More than dying stupidly, I'd hate to give strangers that opportunity to comment on my stupidity.)

The sky alternated between clouds and sunshine for the entire three hours it took to cover the 13 km route, and unlike the week before, the sun wasn't blindingly hot. I saw many of the same water birds as on the earlier route - great blue herons and smaller kingfishers, Canada geese and mallard ducks - and this time we saw an otter scampering onto shore and some turtles sunning themselves on the river rocks (a quick google search informs me that there are eight species of turtles living along the Grand River, but I couldn't identify what we saw; they all look the same to me: brownish, greenish, roundish).

At one point we passed some other rafters who were floating together off to one side, and when we were past them, Rudy said she couldn't believe that they were playing tunes; that when she has come to engage with nature, she doesn't want to be polluted with someone else's noisy electronic devices. And as crotchety as that may sound, she totally had a point. When we were on our tubes the week before, Dave suddenly had the big idea to subject us all to his Spotify, and pulling out his cell phone (he didn't even have a proper speaker like the folks Rudy and I passed), Dave decided to dial up some Paul Simon and put it up as loud and as tinnily as his phone would allow. The playlist (being Spotify) had some pretty random B-sides and Zach wasn't digging it at all, but when he asked Dave if maybe we could find something we all liked or maybe just skip the more "experimental" stuff, Dave insisted that this was what everyone else likes and he was just going to let it play; that's the "fun" of Spotify. It was obvious that Zach was impatient with the music, and that only Dave was really enjoying it, but that ties back into the underlying paternalism of the song choice for this week: I've told Dave before that I find it tyrannical to have to listen to his playlists all of the time - and especially when we're driving in his Dart and he does have a proper speaker to blast his 50s-70s tunes into my face - but there's no stopping him; he's the guy who's driving, he's the guy who's paying, he's the guy in charge, and no one else has a say. We went into Paris for our anniversary dinner on June 29th, and I didn't say anything when I came out and he was polishing up the Dart for the drive, and I didn't say anything when he started his special Spotify playlist - I don't know if he selected each song, or just looked for an oldies anniversary playlist, but when it began with Roy Orbison warbling out Pretty Woman I had to suppress a sigh because I recognised that Dave's heart was in the right place, but who wants to listen to Roy Orbison on purpose? So much has changed since In the Summertime was released, but I suppose I'm still a product of those times, and too often, I just go along to get along. (If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal, If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel).

That's about all I have to say about the rafting (it was a great time and I'm glad I did it with Rudy), but further to my complaints, lol: The next morning, Dave and I went for another bike ride along the Grand, and as usual, we stopped at the "Panoramic Vista" 13 km into the trail to have a snack and a drink of water and turn around. It was then that Dave remembered he had wanted to start the exercise app on his phone (that he uses while out running) so he could later look at the time and distance and GPS map of the route. All good. But as we were biking along on our way back, every five minutes an electronic voice would announce our time and distance and average speed. And I hated that. And I told Dave I hated that and I asked him if he could just put it on silent. And he said no; he liked knowing what his average speed was so he could try to beat it on the next five minute interval. I hated it and Dave said no, he wouldn't silence it. And that wrecked the bike ride for me. It was just like Rudy had said: I was out there trying to commune with nature, and I was being polluted by someone else's electronic device. I was scanning the marshy bits and forest at the sides of the trail and trying to see what was new this week - the tiger lilies are in bloom and the sumacs are just finishing, the air was filled with more little butterflies than I remember seeing before, and the path was crossed, repeatedly, by dozens of frantic chipmunks where I hadn't remembered seeing any before at all - but every five minutes, I'd be jarred again by that electronic voice (which I found totally embarrassing if we were passing other bikes when it was talking; especially since every update made Dave pedal faster, which I refused to match - I was happy to let him race ahead, hoping I wouldn't be able to hear the next update, but he would always, eventually, notice that I wasn't tagging along behind him and slow down to allow me to catch up). So, I won't do that again: time to speak up; I will not go on another bike ride with Dave if he insists on having his app announce his progress.

To happier times: In keeping with our Grand River adventures, I was interested to see that there's a group, Surf Cambridge, that's fundraising to build a wave machine (for urban surfing and white water kayaking, apparently something that's becoming popular in European cities) on the Grand in downtown Galt. So, after our bike ride Sunday morning, we went home and got the dog and the Dart (and Dave's Spotify, only slightly resented), and we went into Galt to check out their Making Waves Festival. There was a Vendor's Market (nothing of much interest to us) and some people in kayak races on the water (again, not as interesting as I had hoped it would be), but if my interest is in seeing how people are using the Grand and trying to become a part of that community, then checking it out was part of our larger project for the summertime this year. (And incidentally, as we were walking alongside the river I saw a woman with a notebook writing down what another woman was saying, interview style, and couldn't quite make out all of a hand-written sign that said it was some kind of a participatory art project: People are making art and connections and communing with nature every day along the Grand River and I simply never knew it until I started looking into it. Blows my mind.)