A Woman Of Grace

It's been difficult to stop thinking about my Mother since finishing "The End Of Your Life Book Club" (2012). Though author Will Scwhalbe had more years with his Mom - she died at 75 years old, my Mom was 57 - losing a beloved parent is never easy.

But the path my thoughts have taken is a little disturbing. Though sad and wistful as I finished the book, a couple of unsettling questions have been bubbling up for a few days now.
How much do parental messages about security affect the dreams of children?
Where do our dreams for our children end and their dreams for themselves begin?

From a very young age, my Mother saw me as a teacher. It's likely that having lived through the Great Depression she would have had difficulty envisioning anything for her firstborn that didn't offer job security. Did I dream of teaching as a profession? I don't know. Would it have mattered if I didn't? I don't know that either. See what I mean about a disturbing path?

As often happens, a conversation with my grounded wife about the way we raised our daughter is helping me return to earth. Also occurred to me that Schwalbe's wounds are fresh and deep making his reverence for his Mom wholly understandable. I've had 36 years to heal from my loss. Doesn't excuse my churlish questions but I think Mom would forgive me; she had that kind of grace, even if her son didn't inherit it.

Getting To Know Her

Over the last few years, there have been several spooky coincidences related to my reading life. The most recent occurred when midway through "The End of Your Life Book Club" (2012) author Will Schwalbe writes movingly of "The Painted Veil" by W. Somerset Maugham, one of the books he and his dying mother Maryanne shared during the last two years of her life. Maugham's was the last novel I finished and also the subject of the last post I wrote about a book just five days ago.

Not long after, Schwalbe mentions JR Moehringer's "The Tender Bar", the subject of my August 10 post called "Memoir Moratorium". That didn't seem particularly odd or coincidental until I realized Schwalbe's book could easily be categorized as a memoir. So I was reading a memoir that mentions both the last novel I read and the last memoir I read, both of which I'd blogged about. Never mind that I'd already abandoned my memoir moratorium; this is a book club book - doesn't count.

"Reading is not the opposite of doing, it's the opposite of dying." Don't you love that? And wild coincidences aside, Schwalbe and his mother selecting Muriel Barbery's "Elegance Of The Hedgehog" to read together ensured "The End of Your Life Book Club" will remain with me. "...Hedgehog" is among my favorite books of the last five years and also the subject of still another blog post of mine. It was nice getting to know Maryanne Schwalbe through the books she and I enjoyed.    

   

Whose Idea Was It Anyway?

Though very dark and not for every taste, "Prisoners" is hands-down the best film I've seen in 2013. If the director, writer or one of the six or seven principal actors does not get nominated for an Academy Award, something is seriously awry in Tinsel Town.

Every scene featuring the detective played by Jake Gyllenhal had me wondering how much creative collaboration went into his character. Was his detective's excessive eye-blinking in the script? Or, did it come from Gyllenhal? Accidentally or intentionally? Did the Director first suggest it? Or, did the Director notice the first time Gyllenhal accidentally blinked a great deal (was there something in his eye during a take?) and then ask him to make that tic a part of this high strung character? I'm endlessly fascinated how accidents and collaboration contribute to the end product in creative art. In what creative field did the most recent example of these phenomena occur to you? I've seriously lost track how many articles, books, etc. I've nerdishly devoured about Lennon & McCartney or the Gershwin brothers' accidents and collaboration.

Recently watched "Howard's End" for the second time. In a crucial scene near the end, Anthony Hopkins does a motion with his hand to cover part of his face after he's confronted with a deceit. It goes by in an instant, so subtle it's easy to miss. I pulled down my copy of the EM Forster novel - nothing in the book like that hand motion. Screenwriter? Hopkins? Director? Accident? Collaboration?    

The Day Of Transformation

I require neither an excuse nor permission to be weird. But October 31 is the one day each year even the most buttoned-up can let it rip. So, how can you transform yourself tomorrow?

* If you've lived in a well-established neighborhood for a long time and have paid enough attention through the years to how the neighbors dress etc., how about a party where everyone dresses as someone from that neighborhood? Then award a prize to whoever does the best job simulating a neighbor. After my wife and I had lived in our first home ten years, I suggested this. Though it didn't go anywhere that first time, once we're in our current house for five years (2015), I'm planning to revive my idea. In the meanwhile, steal it for your own neighborhood. Or, have a family party and use the same concept.

Suggestion re above: Learn from me, OK? The next time I suggest this I'm leaving out the bit about opposite gender stuff. Think that was too much for some of the men in neighborhood #1.

* Why not use Halloween to dress up as a person of the opposite gender you admire from history? I could see myself as Elizabeth Cady Stanton or Susan B. Anthony or another of the earliest feminists. Why the opposite gender? Why not? It's Halloween - What other day of the year would you try this?

* Too tame, you say? Get your disguised self into Greenwich Village. Try to stand out there.

The Force

It's taken some self-control to avoid making every blog post relate somehow to my love of music. Because of two recent interactions, I'll ask you indulge me for two paragraphs today.

In a conversation, a friend told me about hearing Terry Gross interview Graham Nash on NPR. My friend described how moved he was when Nash said he was never the same after the first time he heard "Bye Bye Love". In my 50+ years associating with musicians, I have never known one who did not have a musical moment like this. If you're a musician, please tell me about yours. My own? The drum break just before the last verse of "He's So Fine". If put on the spot in an interview, the opening pulse of "Where Did Our Love Go", the background hand clapping on "I Want To Hold Your Hand" or the harmonies of "Surfer Girl" could be epiphanies #2, 3, 4. And don't tell me epiphany is too strong a word; these were life-altering experiences for me.

The next interaction was the last guitar lesson I gave my 14 year old nephew, an intuitively gifted musician. He's not a prodigy but he has all the necessary tools - brains, ears, instincts, memory, passion, chops. Listening to him play, I remembered myself at his age, the age I took up drums. Driving home from my brother's house, I pulled over to the side of the road and wept with gratitude for this force that has sustained me all these years.  

I Repeat - First, The Book

Finally, a classic that grabbed me in a big way. What was the last classic that did that for you?

"The Painted Veil" (1925) by W. Somerset Maugham is a straightforward tale of the human capacity for growth. Each of the three main characters are human, wholly believable and the words each speak mesh beautifully with their characters.

When it became clear Walter Fane was about to succumb to cholera, my experience with death scenes from other classics I'd recently finished gave me pause. Happily, Maugham does not agonizingly prolong the scene, thereby making it more poignant. And the brief reunion Kitty Fane has with her erstwhile lover Charles Townsend near the end of the book is occasion for one of the great send-offs in all of literature: "You really are the most vain and fatuous ass I've ever had the bad luck to run across".

Re "The Painted Veil" - only two things I'd change: A few sentences during Kitty's final scene with her Father and... next time I'd read the book before seeing the film; couldn't get Ed Norton, Naomi Watts and Liev Schreiber out of my head -  I hate that.
http://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2013/06/first-book.html

A Word That Haunts My Grade (So Far): Humility

Humility: The quality or condition of being humble; modest sense of one's own importance, rank etc.

Based on the definition, the attribute of humility straddles two of my blog series and presents a few dilemmas.

a.) If used in "My Grade (So Far)" and I give myself an "A", doesn't being so immodest automatically contradict that grade? So for now I'll go with a modest (aka humble) "C" without saying I'm being clever doing so - too immodest.

b.) But humility is also a good candidate for word #8 in "Words That Can Haunt Me". I've used that series infrequently because any word geek who claims to be haunted by a lot of words is a bit suspect, no? Still, in my experience, authentic humility is hard to come by and even harder to attain. False humility is disingenuous; lack of humility is obnoxious. Where is the middle ground? Isn't middle ground a "C"? See what I mean about a haunting dilemma?

So, consider this a two-for-one deal. And tell me about your relationship to this tricky word.

Caught Short, Again

Some recent public statements Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia has made prompted me to dig out a few old journal entries of mine. To get some needed context for this post, it might help to do a Google search using Scalia's name and some keywords like gay or evolution.

In the late 1990's when part of my job was matching instructors for training classes, there was one request I didn't have the heart to assign to someone - a mandatory all day class on diversity for 50 Administrative Law judges. And it was on a Saturday; judges do not get paid extra for attending training on Saturday. I knew this group of people was not going to be happy. So I taught the class myself.

Scalia's recent statements brought that challenging day of teaching into sharp focus and my journal helped me recall some of the highlights. Early in the day, as I was conducting an activity about prejudice, one participant said to me and his colleagues "I don't need to be here; I'm a judge and have had all the prejudice taught out of me." Although my journal entry didn't include my response, I do remember being caught short. How would you respond if someone you knew said they've had all the prejudice taught out of them?

Based on his accomplishments and intellect, Antonin Scalia has earned a place in history. His range of influence is immense. I've tried to imagine how I'd react if he were in a class of mine and made his recent statements. I'd probably be caught short, again.