sailing on Lake Michigan.

My journal, back in March, after the first round of chemo, still on steroids, describes working three shifts at the party store in a week, I felt so grateful that I could do it, that my brain and body still worked. I hadn’t yet lost my hair. A line mentions that I had a hint of what it was going to be like when the summer people returned, how I didn’t want to be there. I think I was not looking forward to the busier store, losing time to read, the difficulty of keeping the beer stocked with a steady stream of customers. I feared whether I’d be able to keep up, as chemo progressed.

Summer People, by the way, is the name of a novel by Marge Piercy that is infamous in my Detroit book group. It’s one of the best book discussions we’ve ever had, and we universally hated it. Now, I love Marge Piercy – she’s from Detroit, and several of her novels - Small Changes, Braided Lives, Gone to Soldiers - made a huge impact on my twenties. But Summer People taught us something important about the publishing industry – you get too famous, your editors become fearful of actually editing your work.

The phrase “summer people” took on a whole new meaning for me, at the library. I created library cards for people who showed not their driver’s license but their tax bill for their second home. Chicago people, who have a whole different relationship to Lake Michigan. I didn’t have any terrible experiences – no one was overtly patronizing or rude – it’s more an awareness of the large economic gap, entitlement I barely dream of, a lifestyle I will never know.

It’s a lifestyle I’ve never wanted. It’s an odd thing. I have a master’s degree, yet it’s one that guarantees I will cling to the middle class my parents marched into and upward within. (A pastor like Rick Warren, who has written several best-sellers, is rare.) I have made very conscious choices that affect me economically, and I don’t regret them. That doesn’t mean that sometimes, I don’t dream of being able to buy a really cool car – like the Porsche, Connie, on Saving Grace.

Chemo update: my nails are still ridged, but definitely stronger. They are recovering. So are my ankles, slowly. I’ve been taking walks, and I’m appalled at how quickly I get winded. I was in much better shape when I worked at the party store. Another choice I do not regret, the beginning or the ending.