The summer interns are leaving. It happens every August. As I get increasingly older and crochetier they all seem to be named Lindsay or Brittany (Last year, there were actually three Heathers. I'm not making this up.) They're all journalism majors, and you can see they think working at a TV station is cool.
Some are certainly going to be star reporters and producers. (Just like reading a good manuscript, you can tell right away.) And others, well, there is a significant lack of knowledge of current events, capability of analytical thinking and, well, spelling. But they're students, right? (There's also a significant lack of clothing, especially the clothing that is supposed to go between waist and neck. I’ve never seen so many pink tummies and cleavage in the workplace in my life.)
A few years ago, we had one we secretly called “Dee” (short for delay) because when you asked her a question, there’s this moment of silence, like the brief delay that occurs as a result of an on- camera question being transmitted up to the satellite, and then back down to the person in another location who has to answer it. (You’ve seen that? Right? Where the anchor in
Anyway. I have a soft spot in my heart for them all, Dee especially, because no matter who they are now, and no matter how spacey and seemingly undereducated, they aren’t who they WILL be. And, so sweetly, they don’t even realize that.
(Plus, of course, I remember my miniskirts were scandalous, and there was a time, oh yes, indeed, when I had no idea what I was doing, and had no idea that I had no idea.)
And when the interns leave, they have this—terror of what’s to come. I said to one of them, ready to enter senior year, last Friday—so, what are your plans for the fall?
Hank: Yes, you know. School?
Intern: Classes, I guess. I don’t know. (Moment of thought. Then: ) I don’t know what my plans are. I’m not really sure.
Hank: Any idea for what you might want to do?
I had to smile. She’s maybe—19? And she’s saying—“It’s getting late” ? I almost burst into tears.
I told her: There’s a holiday this August you ought to celebrate.
She said: A holiday?
Yup, I said, it’s called….
Years I ago, in mid-August, my girlfriend Jane invited me to go to
I packed my books and my bike and my tennis racket and a couple of bathing suits. (I was six months or so into the midst of a pretty unhappy divorce (a blog for another time) and was happy to be out of town, and focused on sand and water and friends. NOT romance.)
I had zero expectations. So I did not pack any floaty skirts or cute hats or slinky cover-ups.I did not bring any makeup. (This will especially shock those of you who know me in person.)
Jane and I disembarked from the ferry, got to our lovely beach house, walked in the front door. And there was the HANDSOMEST man I’ve ever seen. I stopped in my tracks.
Oh, Neil said, this is Jonathan. We invited him at the last minute.
But then, I didn’t go. I thought—this is how I look, take it or leave it.
The story is longer, and funnier, and eventually more romantic, but the short version is, Jonathan and I have not been apart since that moment.
And, I told the intern, Jonathan and I don’t celebrate the anniversary of the day we met.
We celebrate the anniversary of the day BEFORE we met. And we call it “You Never Know Day.”
Because you never know what wonderful amazing unexpected impossible-to-imagine thing is just around the next corner.
So don’t worry, I said, giving her a hug. It’ll all be wonderful. Just—see.
You Never Know Day is coming up. (Year 15, fyi.) And, I told her, keep in mind, if you’re freaking out, or worried, or hoping for something to happen or wishing that something won’t happen, you never know what’s good or bad or what’s just about to take place. It’ll probably be something you never thought of.
We officially celebrate it on August 18, if you want to mark it on your calendar. But of course, every day is you never know day.
So good luck, interns, headed out into that unpredictable world. Blessings and joy. And may you embrace what’s to come.
Because you never know. And that’s a good thing.
Do you have interns? Were you ever an intern? How did you meet your significant other? Was it a surprise? Happy August!