Four nights ago I dreamed that my friend K and his daughter were holding my hands as we went on a nature adventure. I woke up smiling without much more to go on. K, who is a painter and musician of some repute, was not leading me on; he was just leading me. I could tell he loves me, though. And while he loves a lot of people, this doesn’t preclude his love for me. Love is love is love is love, said Lin-Manuel a week ago, and he was right. Love is everything and it’s everywhere and it’s never “though” and it’s never “just.” When we forget that, we’re up a creek the likes of which—well, the whole country is up that creek as I type. Continue Reading →
Archive | Age Matters
Grounded Mermaids, Graceful Ghosts
I withhold not my heart from any joy.— Ecclesiastes 2:10, via Anne of Windy Poplars
It was a beautiful day. Quiet, full of small satisfactions and a private melancholy that’s become a constant companion this year. I woke early—I suppose the headline would be if I had woken late—and sprang into action. Did laundry, fetched supplies at the greenmarket, made jars of iced tea from pineapple weed and mint and chamomile and ginger and hibiscus. Visited my pal at the hardware store and came home with bags of plywood and paint and gorilla tape. Coaxed one more bunch of peony buds into bloom. Organized a cupboard that had been bothering me for months.
Listened to the Hadestown soundtrack all the while—
You, the one I left behind/
If you ever walk this way/
Come find me/
Lying in the bed I made
and moved gently, gently like the beached mermaid I feel myself to be. Fear myself to be. I’m so cautious these days—afraid of reinjuring the back only recently mended through acupunk and good wishes, afraid of my selfishness and the selfishness of others. Afraid of being this ghost, floating through families and flocks of NYC peacocks, eavesdropping on conversations held and not held. Continue Reading →
Talk About ‘The Meddler’
One of my favorite freelance gigs is giving talks to local cinema clubs. The groups mostly are comprised of people over 60, which is my preferred demographic of human beings. As Louis CK once said, “Even the dumbest seventy-year-old is going to have seen more than the smartest twenty-year-old.” The following is a lecture I gave to a Long Island club about “The Meddler,” which we all enjoyed. Some in the audience were all too acquainted with the loneliness of widowhood and retirement, and shared beautiful insights when I finished talking. More than one person made me cry. Sometimes talking about movies is even better than seeing them, which is why I am grateful for my work even when suffering an indignity like “Captain America.”
I have a funny story about seeing “The Meddler.” I was scheduled to see it the day Susan Sarandon, who stars as Marnie, the titular meddler, was all over the news for her controversial comments to Chris Hayes about why Trump might be better for America than Hillary Clinton. Her comments confirmed my long-abiding feeling that movie stars should be seen and not heard unless they are speaking from a script, and I tweeted something to that effect. Continue Reading →