Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

On this Memorial Day I'm thinking of two soldiers, one a secret to me until my mother died and the other the fallen husband of my dearest friend.  After my mother died I was visiting my favorite aunt and she showed me ancient photos of the family.  I learned I had an uncle my aunt was married to who adored me as a toddler, but he died suddenly in a car accident and my parents let his memory fade and never spoke of him.  I lost him in my memory.  And she surprised me again by saying my mother was in love with and engaged to marry a soldier in World War II, a pilot like my dad, but he was killed and she never mentioned him to my brother or me.  She carried that wound to her own death, silent.
 My friend secretly eloped with her beloved after graduating from college, right before he was sent to Vietnam.  He was a helicopter pilot, and died three months after he was posted.  It was a shock to her entire family and all her friends except the one who had driven across the country with her, ostensibly to visit me and my husband.  She never said a word to me.  When he died she was devastated, and didn't want to live.  I've traced his name on the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. and seen it on a a wall of the college they both attended. 
Two loves lost, but not forgotten, two graves visited, in my mother's case by his relatives, and in my friend's case, by her, her kids and second husband and other relatives.  How our lives are changed by the secrets and memories we hold.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went with my friends to a jazz show this afternoon, and the group playing was headed by a friend of ours from three and four decades ago.  His band played at my fiftieth birthday party which I threw for myself instead of feeling sorry for myself.  I hired his band, and he brought along a singer (R & B) who was fantastic.  I rented a hall, had a catered dinner, flowers and a hundred people.  I danced every piece, and for a year after was apologizing to people:  "Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk more, but you know where I was".  And they did.  I danced by myself, with everyone who was on the floor.  My band leader friend had small girls back then, and when I saw them at a recent wedding they were all grown up, through college and working.  He and his wife have held complex jobs, but he's always made room for his jazz.  He can play xylophone, clarinet, small saxophone and large saxophone.  He's always had a band.  And can he play!  His African American soul shines through, and he's an amazing historian who lectures on the history of jazz.  But he says it best through his music.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

What I love about Hitchcock's second version of "The Man Who Knew Too Much" is the sly inversion of the message.  On the surface, Doris Day's wife and Jimmy Stewart's husband are the perfect married couple, and yes, they are, for that time.  She's given up a hugely successful career as a world entertainer to be stuck in Indianapolis with her physician husband, and raise their son.  He's oblivious to the fact that she has given up so much because he doesn't want to move to New York, where she could flourish again.  He can't control her if she's in her world.  But underneath, it's she that has the smarts to distrust the Frenchman they meet in Marrakesh, and she who figures out where their kidnapped boy is.  The perfect scene for me is his withholding information from her until he forces her to take two sedatives.  You can see that she would be deeply upset, naturally, but it's he who can't bear to let his emotions out of the cage.  Day's acting in this scene is amazing, and you are gripped by the situation.  But he drugs her.  That way he can keep control of a situation he thinks he, as a man, is better equipped to handle.  Later, when he searches for a name he thinks is a person, and is mistaken, it's she who realizes it must be a building and finds the kidnappers herself.  It's she who screams and saves the Prime Minister, as Stewart is still running around searching.  Ironically, in an entertainment on the screen, it's that kind of career that is indispensable, not an ordinary GP.  Moreover, because Stewart is almost always neurotic on screen, and Day so authentic seeming, we come to see her as the hero.  And it's her singing that finds their son due the way she has trained him to sing and know her songs and voice.  Let's here it for entertainment!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm working on a grandmother journal for my fourth time.  Each time I work on one, there's a dollop of deja vu and yet a different tone, because I'm that much older, and I emphasize different events and also, I fear, my "story" has solidified, and I attempt to fight back and stay fresh.  Also, I'm protective, so I'm not going to be detailed and fiercely honest for a child.  Sometimes the "story" is enough.  It's a fine balance, which I don't believe I've achieved in any of the books.  I just give myself an A for trying.  It's better than nothing.  And if they grow up and want to know more there is my writing, in the form of blogs, poems, unfinished novels and memoirs.  Maybe someone will be a historian.  Of my kids, the oldest is the historian.  So I sit down and shut down my critical sense of what the narration is, and aim for some gentle picture of my times and life.  Of course the real thing is complex beyond my understanding even.  But perhaps they'll read between the lines. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had dinner last night with a friend, her partner, and her mother, who lives with them.  She's 95, but sharp as a tack.  She is pretty adorable, from my point of view, but then I romantisize all my friends' situations who are lucky enough to have parents alive.  I was forty when mine died, and they were younger than I am now.  One of my kids doesn't even remember them.  What I admire even more is my friend's dedication to her mother, coupled with firm boundaries so that she is able to take trips and live her life without feeling guilty when she does.  My friend's other sister lives back east, but flies out to visit when my friend is on a long trip.  How fair and sensitive she is to the responsibility for their mother. 
One of the topics her mother and I discuss is old movies and movie stars.  Another is books, as she's as avid a reader as her daughter and me.  Her hearing is bad, but I have the kind of voice that carries across an ocean, so we're okay.  My grandchildren also can project across an auditorium and need no microphones.  We are veritable loud mouths.  She likes to hear about the grandkids, and has seen them all at one time or another.  Her own are of course way grown up, but devoted to her.  It's a lovely and loving situation, and I appreciate the effort and care it takes for everyone involved.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm having lunch with my younger son, daughter-in-law, new baby and her mother, who has flown down to admire the little fellow.  And he is adorable.  He looks just like her daughter, so much so it's cute.  I know my daughter-in-law must be thrilled to have her mom here.  Their entire family is so amiable and friendly, and I'm lucky to be related to them.  I have been fortunate in my kids' in-laws and I know it.  Today is sunny and supposed to be about ten degrees warmer, so it's a great day to take the baby out.  My husband is up at the cabin trying to figure out what's wrong with our water heater, and he's a hero to me for doing so.  He's so busy singing and performing in his choruses that it's taken him a while to get up there.  I expect it's beautiful, with masses of wildflowers that will change but flourish throughout the summer, as we've had such a great year for precipitation.  I so look forward to being up there, but hot water helps, as everything and everyone gets mighty dirty traipsing around the lake and there will be tons of pollen this year.  We have kids and friends coming up, and we hope to take our granddaughter for a couple of days when she visits.  Summer!  Can't wait!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've had a lovely few days with a dear friend from out of state.  We saw the Monet show (my fourth time!), the Warhol show, shopped a bit, saw two of my grandkids, and talked our brains out.  The weather did not cooperate, but normally this would be a great time of year to visit.  Strange days!  Now I'm getting back to my various projects and going to help out with my grandson since his dad just landed a job he is excited about, but it's a commute.  It's only a couple of weeks until my daughter is finished teaching, so hopefully it will go smoothly.  Our son's mother-in-law is out visiting the new baby so I'm meeting up with them tomorrow.  Baby is only a month old, but they are venturing out more and more, as he's so easy and mellow that there is no danger of cabin fever.  I've got the info for our granddaughter's visit, in June, so I'm happily anticipating lots of fun.  Now if the weather will just cooperate.