Parenthesis

pa . ren . the . sis/ noun / an intervening occurrence, an interlude; a word or phrase that is not directly related to what is being said or written but is added to give more information.

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It’s not unusual for individuals to complain to me that they have a difficult time with grammar and punctuation. They can’t seem to keep track of which marks go where, they tell me. It’s understandable if you have a little hesitation about where to put a comma or a colon. The rules seem overwhelming sometimes, but once you understand how the rules governing the marks work in a sentence, using them is fairly easy. Parentheses are among the easiest marks to use. They always occur in pairs and are placed around an explanatory qualifying word or phrase to enclose a point thrown in. It’s  like a by-the-way idea when you speak. It is  related to what you are writing but is added only to give a little more information. Good writers use  parentheses sparingly.

I have said all of this as a way of introducing a parenthesis in the year–the mango season. You won’t find it listed on any calendar, and it’s not part of the four acknowledged  seasons of the year that, in temperate climates,  are demarcated by obvious changes.  Spring has its balmy weather and gorgeous flowers–colorful azalea bushes, roses, lilies; it is a flowering time. Summer, along with its rainstorms and heat waves,  has fresh produce; it is a growing time.  Fall produces vibrant foliage and salubrious temperatures. Winter’s snow and chilly winds create a love-hate relationship with dwellers in northern climes.

It is in summer that we find that wonderful parenthesis in time that is the mango season, that interlude that brings forth the succulent, luscious fruit with its flavorful, delectable taste.  Nowadays I am surprised to meet as many people as I do who drool at the mention of mangoes. I grew up with the mango season lasting from about June to September, and I thought that we in the islands had exclusive rights to call the mango as well as the season our very own. But a few years ago,  I learned that the fruit is native to India, and last year I read a delightful book called The Mango Season, set in India. The book deals with a clash of cultures, but I learned that there they relish mangoes as much as we do in the islands.

There are said to be about 1400 varieties of mangoes. I had this number reinforced for me a few days ago when a box arrived by UPS at my front door. I knew right away what it was–mangoes from my cousin Hazel in Florida. She has them growing in abundance on her property and delights to share  her bounty with relatives and friends. In the mango season, I have the pleasure of enjoying varieties such as Hayden,  Keith and VP.  Each one is different, each with its own special flavor.

In the mango season, the people where the fruit is abundant have what might be called a Lotus Eaters experience. In Homer’s Odyssey, you may remember, the men on  the island that Ulysses’ men discovered feasted on lotus seeds and plants to the exclusion of everything else.  Likewise, islanders feast on mangoes morning, noon, and night–yes night. Like the lotus-eating inhabitants, they can’t get enough of the fruit. Sometimes an individual will prepare a basin of washed mangoes, sit in front of it, and eat until every one disappears.

Mangoes are my favorite fruit, but I wasn’t able to transfer my love for them to my two sons, neither of whom gives even passing notice to the fruit. There is no point in my trying to share it with them. They don’t want it. That is so much like our human situation. We may have a particular leaning–a philosophical, political, or religious point of view, but our siblings, our spouse, or our friends do not share it. What should we do? Should we become incensed and try to prove to them that our way is better than theirs, that what we espouse is superior to what they think? It is amazing the fallout that occurs because not everybody has a passion for  our mangoes.

Like the mango, we all have our season, the parenthesis in life when we discover just the thing we like to do to make us enjoy a time of refreshing or even a time of growth. It can be the time when we enlist  our faith to make us try something new to help us put our God-given talents to work and reap the enjoyable results. If we claim the power to flourish and bear good fruit, we can find our parenthetic season of satisfaction.  We may even be able to turn an unpromising season into one of memorable service and sharing with love. Says the wise man Solomon, “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).

Blessings,

Judith

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The fruit of the Spirit is love (Galatians 5:22).