Transcript

I’m Major Jackson, and this is The Slowdown.

In my thirties, I did not have the courage to tell my then wife about the gray days ahead when we moved to Burlington, Vermont. On average, Queen City gets 58 days of sunlight and 101 partial days of sunshine. 

That’s a lot of darkness and gloom throughout the year. 

We met in Portland, Oregon; we were used to long stretches of gray skies. The combination of frigid temperatures and such little light in the day tested our inner resources, especially that first winter. But we found ways to endure. 

We made sure the house was tastefully lit with candles. We started each day by feeding wood into the fireplace. The crackling smell of the logs made for epic coziness. We made sure to bundle up in layers and take a walk before the gloaming, which began just after my children’s school let out. We cooked stews and tested new soup recipes that warmed our bodies. Coffees, teas, hot cider, just about any hot drink that steamed up our faces helped to stave off the winter blues. We even concocted hot mead. This was long before we heard of the word hygge — the word in Danish and Norwegian that can mean coziness, but is more so an untranslatable ethos of finding joy in simple things against the bleak and harsh realities. We didn’t know the word, but we were certainly finding the vibe. 

But for those of us who want to hold onto the light as long as we can, we make sure to embrace more than the material comforts — we can make sure to surround ourselves with family, friends and song. So, we must schedule dates in cafes and dinner outings. Because the nights do get lonely and cold. 

Today’s poem reveals another method of staring down the darkness, of converting despair into light, of staying rooted in an affirming, resilient spirit.

The Gift to Sing
by James Weldon Johnson

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,
And blackening clouds about me cling;
But, oh, I have a magic way
To turn the gloom to cheerful day—
      I softly sing.

And if the way grows darker still, 
Shadowed by Sorrow’s somber wing,
With glad defiance in my throat, 
I pierce the darkness with a note,
      And sing, and sing.

I brood not over the broken past,
Nor dread whatever time may bring;
No nights are dark, no days are long,
While in my heart there swells a song, 
      And I can sing.

This poem is in the public domain.