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Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's Bête Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com
Sunday, January 21, 2007
everything's fine, everything's fine, and then all of a sudden i'm struck with tears. telling the story of the Wizard of Oz to the kid, and getting to the part about the not-nice neighbor, Miss Gulch, who threatens Dorothy's dog, and all of a sudden i'm teary-eyed, thinking, what could have happened to her that she is so unhappy? by the end of the story and there's no place like home, the tears are really coming, i hide them from the kid, don't want to alarm him, don't want to call attention to myself.
and everything's fine.
* * *
the other day, listening to Michel Legrand's soundtrack to The Thomas Crown Affair, the original version, and Noel Harrison (Rex's son) singing the opening song (i've never seen the movie), "Windmills of Your Mind," and the paranoid line, "why did summer go so quickly, was it something that you said?", and Harrison's quiet urgency the most effective i've ever heard on the song (Memphis Dusty's version included), and the line, "lovers walk along the shore and leave their footprints in the sand," and i think of childhood family summer vacations on Lake Michigan and start sobbing.
* * *
my dad has been my dreams twice in the last two weeks -- nothing gruesome or even striking, just imagined, undramatic scenes from the months before he died. recently it struck me -- he's going to be dead for the rest of my life. i knew that, but it struck me anew.
* * *
time gives and time takes away. it's so easy to focus on the losses because they strike so hard, but they wouldn't be possible without the gains.
* * *
i've always been a cryer. since adulthood, anyway. as a male adolescent and pre-adolescent, crying was to be avoided. how many males of my cohort fought back tears watching Brian's Song? (soundtrack by Michel Legrand.)
* * *
the first time i saw my dad cry, he was telling his mother-in-law that his father-in-law had had a major stroke. we spent summers with my mom's parents. my dad was never super-affectionate with his parents-in-law, but he lived with them and loved them very deeply.
* * *
January melancholy -- it's OK. time of stock taking. in the days after Christmas, I came down with a bug and didn't blog for a few days, and I realized I didn't miss it; then, I posted again and realized I really enjoy it. In the first three years of the blog, I posted four or five times a week most weeks, sometimes six, except when I was away. But I'll probably be posting less frequently in the foreseeable future -- maybe three times a week. It might end up being more, but I hope not.
Michael Berube, who recently retired from blogging, wrote in his envoi about how blogging is a great pre-occupier; how one is always sifting experience for blog-ability. This is true for me too, and I'm hoping to be pre-occupied with other pre-occupations. I'm going to see if I can keep a lighter blogging schedule and free up some soul-energy for other things. We'll see how it works out. I'll keep you posted.
Thanks, as ever, for dropping by. And, even in times of melancholy, one hopes for spells of cheer, and my hopes on this score have been fulfilled; so, cheers --
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