Category Archives: Musings

Three Parties and a Funeral*

Musings,
A party goer who had a little too much fun with the POTUS

As I sit writing this, I’m trying to figure out what to wear for the penultimate party of party season. Our Scottish friends have invited us to celebrate Burns’ Night with them again. It is always a fun time, but by the time Burns’ Night rolls around I’m ready to follow the groundhog back into its hole. You see, I am an introvert…

January began with back to back parties — one on New Year’s Eve and the second on New Year’s Day — both at neighbors’ homes, both delightful full of friendly and interesting people. One low-key and intimate and the other lively and crowded.

The following weekend we went to yet another neighbor’s house for a 12th Night celebration where we drank and feasted and watched 12th Night (the one with Helena Bonham Carter).

The weekend after that we spent in quiet solitude (Dean, Clare and me) in the mountains of Pennsylvania.

On Tuesday of the following week I attended the funeral of my longtime supervisor, Jeanette Fairfax. She and I met 12 years ago when I first started working at Caliber (now ICF). Not long after I began working part time at home she became my supervisor. She was 52 years old. She was a wonderful person. Fuck cancer, as they say. (although she would never say anything so vulgar)

We needed the rest because the following weekend was our turn. We held our second inaugural ball. (It would have been a wake if the wrong candidate had been elected.) We hosted 30 or so people for dinner (serve yourself — not a sit-down affair). It was fun, but it was also a lot of work. It took me half a week, at least, to recover.

Last weekend we rested. Well, I rested — Dean skied. (actually there was a party last weekend — a neighbor had a welcoming coffee for another neighbor.)

Today we go to Burns’ Night, tomorrow we have two invitations for the Super Bowl. In two weeks we have another funeral (actually memorial service) to go to. The same day that my boss died, a neighbor died from a fall down the stairs. He was 66 (but you’d never know it). I didn’t know him well — but saw him around the neighborhood. I know his wife a little better.

If I sound like I am complaining — really I am not. I’m just saying that I am glad party season is nearly over. I have fun at all the galas to which I am invited. It just takes me a while to recover.

*Yes, I know it is more than 3 parties and one funeral, but this sounded better than seven parties and two funerals…

Defining sentiment

Musings, , ,

Sometime between December 1986 and December 1990 Dean and I saw “Les Misérables” at one of the big theaters in Washington DC. I’d like to think it was 1986 or 1987 — before it was even on Broadway, but I don’t think we were that forward thinking. I only remember where I was working at the time because I remember talking to one of the mothers of the students I taught about seeing the musical and she said she was not interested in seeing it because she’d seen a lot of violence in her life.

Anyway, I loved the musical. I cried buckets of tears at the end and hummed the music for weeks afterward. I purchased the record album and played it constantly. I must have played it even after having my first child because Clare became such a fan of the music that she wanted to see the musical when it was in town. She and I went to see it, probably at the National Theater where she got to sit on a kidney-shaped cushion so she could see over the people in front of her and when we left the theater the young actor who played Gavroche was being whisked away by his mother directly in front of us. Clare loved the musical, of course, and the album was played in the house for many years.

I’ve since seen most of the movie versions of the book (although have never completely read the book) and own a VHS of the “10th Anniversary Concert” that includes many of the various casts on stage singing their songs.

When I heard about the movie version I was excited until I heard Anne Hathaway was in it. I do not like Anne Hathaway (sorry Anne — nothing personal — your acting annoys me). However I have heard that even Anne is pretty good in it and she dies in the first part of the story anyway. Clare and I decided that we would see the film after all.

Until today all of the reviews of the film version I heard or read have been very positive, with only a few negative bits and pieces. In fact, I’d never heard anyone admit they didn’t like “Les Mis”.

Today while I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed I saw a link to a New Yorker article with which a Facebook friend said he agreed 100%. I clicked on the link and read the article that begins:

“I want to render a public service. I want to suggest that even if you were deeply moved by “Les Mis,” you can still save your soul. I don’t think you are damned forever. Salvation awaits. I realize that we are not supposed to argue about taste. De gustibus non est disputandum, as some Latin fellow said. But, in fact, critics do nothing but argue about taste. And I realize that emotion is even harder and riskier to argue about. But, as we have new experiences, emotions change. Therefore, in the interest of public health, I will try to bring cures to the troubled. But first, a few words about the movie version of ‘Les Misérables.'”

The article goes on to say that the music is “juvenile stuff”, emotions are “elemental” and “engineered”, the comedy repetitive. His bottom line is:

“It’s terrible; it’s dreadful. Overbearing, pretentious, madly repetitive. I was doubly embarrassed because all around me, in a very large theatre, people were sitting rapt, awed, absolutely silent, only to burst into applause after some of the numbers, and I couldn’t help wondering what in the world had happened to the taste of my countrymen—the Americans (Americans!) who created and loved almost all the greatest musicals ever made.”

He then mentions what he considers better music and musicals (“Carousel”, “West Side Story”, “A Star is Born”, “Top Hat”, “Singin’ in the Rain”) and challenges people who love “Les Mis” to watch those for comparison.

While I agree that maybe the music is not as good as other music and the story does evoke tears purposefully, I don’t think it is just that. For me it is the memory of seeing it many years ago — going to the theater and seeing an accessible “opera”, getting caught up in the (melo)drama, crying, sharing it with my daughter. For me it is the sentiment, pure and simple.

The article and discussion of the article and “Les Mis” on my friend’s Facebook page reminded me of an article and ensuing discussion I read about a local business having to move because of increasing rent. Some of the folks commenting were all about the sentiment and some were all about “get over it, the store is a chaotic mess and not of this era”. Some admitted to crying when they heard the news and others couldn’t see the value. While I agree that the store was often untidy, I also don’t want it to go. Going into the store was like a step back in time. A real variety store not unlike the Ben Franklin where I got my first job in 1973.

In each case it is a matter, I think, of the non-sentimental folks just not “getting” the sentimental folks. Sentiment is not something that can be easily shared. You can describe reasons for the emotions, but unless someone shares the emotions and memories they are just not going to get it. This is not saying they don’t have a right to their opinion, but a gentle opinion is much preferred to a harsh one.

The folks commenting, one in particular on the matter of the local business was very harsh and, in my opinion, downright mean at times. On the other hand, the folks commenting (and original poster) on the New Yorker link on Facebook were much more understanding of the sentiment involved. The article was harsh and seemed to demean those who liked the musical, but the humor with which it was written softened that for me.

We are now facing the loss of another local business. Looking forward to the discussion of that. Luckily there is a Facebook page for that.

Patchwork garden

Musings, The Great Outdoors, , , ,

When I was a child and would visit my Grandma Patrick, sometimes she’d tell me about the patchwork quilt that hung over the back of her sofa in her living room. Its pattern was of tulips in pots and suns with beams. Flowered material made up the border. As we sat under the quilt she’d point to a pot or a flower or a sunbeam and tell me about the piece of clothing that it came from. Sometimes her own, sometimes one of her 4 daughters. There even were pieces of shirts from my dad and his dad, her husband.

To me this quilt was special, not only because she made it herself, but it was made up of scraps of material that once clothed her family. This quilt now hangs on a sofa in my house. While I don’t remember whose dress or shirt each flowerpot or sunbeam was made from, I have told my children about it. Maybe someday they will tell their children too.

I thought about this quilt last night after thinking of the plants that will go into the bed in my front yard. I’ve hired my neighbor, Terese, a professional garden designer to plan the bed, and she’s come up with a great design. She’s purchased some plants for it, but we will incorporate some existing plants from the bed and take some from other places in my yard that I planted without knowledge of what they needed in the way of sunlight, drainage, etc. A few of these plants were from the garden of my friend, Bob, who reluctantly moved away from the neighborhood last December. We’re also getting a few plants from my friend, Alison. Terese is giving me some plants from her garden and maybe some from a community garden.

So my garden will be somewhat of a patchwork garden, plants from friends and neighbors will grow next to newly purchased plants. Plants that are re-purposed — just like the cloth in Grandma’s quilt. And it will be all the better for it. Maybe, when my future grandchildren visit, I will tell them about the people who gave me each of the plants; about Bob and what a beautiful garden he had or about my friend Alison and her family, with whom we had some amazing times. If only I’d remembered to take the plants that Frances gave me from my yard in Alexandria when we moved to Bethesda.

fall blooming crocus
mountain mint