Trust Me on the Sunscreen

In 1999, a spoken-word piece was released as a kind of essay for the graduating class of 1999. I remember how intriguing it was, especially since it wasn’t really a song at all. There’s more to its history, but it became especially meaningful to me this weekend after I got a terrible sunburn.

October should mean cooler temperatures and football. I got the football this weekend, but the temperatures were anything but cool. I knew I should wear sunscreen, but who buys sunscreen in October?

The famous piece, Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen), offers this advice:

“Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.”

Oh, how I wished I had listened!

It got me thinking about all the things we take for granted. On the drive to Topeka, I was reading We Burned So Bright and came across an interesting passage about the moon:

“When was the last time you gave any real thought about the moon outside of a landing or an eclipse? When it’s full we exclaim how big it is, how bright. But like everything else, we see it and it passes through our minds with no resistance. Then it’s gone until the next time we see it. Isn’t that funny? An orbiting body that affects the tides, the tilt of the earth and we just…take it for granted.”

That passage really stuck with me. My mom has always loved the moon. For many of us in healthcare, a full moon brings to mind theories about behavior and mental health. But setting those theories aside, how often do we really stop and think about the moon and all that it does? How often do we simply notice its beauty without giving it another thought?  For me, when I see the moon shining brightly, I think of my mom and often send her a quick text: “Have you seen the moon today?”

But this weekend seemed full of reminders of the things we overlook until something makes us stop and notice them. As Stuart was mowing the lawn (hopefully for the last time this season) he texted me, “Come out back.” To my surprise, my lilac bush was in full bloom.  He told me he hadn’t even noticed it until he drove by on the lawnmower and caught its scent. Suddenly, there it was—something beautiful that had been right in front of us, unnoticed.

Lilacs were my dad’s favorite flowers, and for the past two years, I’ve noticed that either my mom’s lilac bush or mine has bloomed around the week of his birthday. A fall bloom is unusual, but it happens, and thankfully, it shouldn’t keep the bush from blooming again in spring.

Seeing those unexpected blossoms felt like another reminder that sometimes we need to slow down and pay attention. The moon is always there. The lilacs are growing in the yard. The people we love are part of our everyday lives. And because these things are familiar, it’s easy to take them for granted.

Maybe we don’t need a special occasion to appreciate them. Maybe we just need to look up, step outside, or send that quick text to someone we love. Life is too short to miss the beauty in the ordinary.

So, as Baz Luhrmann shared with the class of 1999, there are certain truths we can count on:

“Prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old—and when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.”

But for me, the most important lesson from this weekend?

“Trust me on the sunscreen.”