To pass many lonely nights, I’ve been watching old movies. Funny. I think of one title and three more come to mind. These old friends have helped me fill evenings when I am too tired to read, but not tired enough to fall off to sleep.
Growing up in a house of five girls, spanning a bridge of 16 years from oldest to youngest, I was imprinted with music from many different decades. My mom’s music was added to the mix. She loved it all, having exposed all of us to musical notes and instruments. Church choir. School Choir. Piano, accordion, saxophone, guitar. We changed with the times. Musical trends and preferences became harder for my mom to accept as years went on. By the time I was falling in love with Joni or Crosby, Stills, and Nash, she was clutching her ears wondering where she had gone wrong.
One safe genre on which we could always agree was musicals. I could listen to them, over and over, watching the stage sets, photography, and costuming. Each time I watch again, I find something new that is strangely important and relevant. I can’t say that I have a favorite. I love them all. South Pacific. Oklahoma. West Side Story. Evita. Mama Mia. And my latest favorite, Come From Away.
Fiddler on the Roof. I remembering first hearing of this movie when I was in high school. My oldest sister and her husband, needing to escape from their small children, had gone out on a date night. The next morning, she called Mom, bubbling over about this amazing movie. Nothing else would do but that we all went to see it. At the time, I liked the songs about forbidden love. I saw myself as the young daughters trying to break deep traditions that would anchor them to a life outdated. At that very moment in time, I, too, was experiencing love forbidden by parental restraints. VST and I, sang the sad song, Anatevka, for a choral performance.
A few weeks ago, I watched Fiddler on the Roof for the first time in years. This time, when I watched it, something else was so evident. Love and family are all any of us have.
So many times, VST and I talked about life if one of us died. Always theoretical, of course. Cancer was not invited into our home. It broke the door down and stole VST, smashing dreams in its hateful wake. Destroying what could have continued to be. Stealing what could have come. Leaving a wake of destruction and quiet, as if three decades had not ever even happened.
Aside from my devastating loss due to cancer, 2020 has shown me that at any time, an invisible and deadly threat in the form of a microscopic virus could rob all of us of a way of life and traditions we hold dear. People who were our friends might be forced to behave differently than their heart desires. Places that had been comforting might become dangerous. Traditions that were loved might become banished. Life will become bleak, unless the love for family and friends prevails. With that love, all things are possible to endure. All things.
As I watched the story unfold, it had a richness and melancholy that I had not embraced or fully understood before. The same story, yet heard from a different point of view. Yes. Bleak. The outcome of their story we all know. The outcome of ours has yet to be written. The love of fathers for their daughters. Of husbands for the wives. The love for places dear. New love. Old love. Love, in the end, is what we have when the important parts of our lives are distilled, insignificant things falling away. With this love, new traditions replace old.
In this, a most beautiful season, connect with those you love to remember those we have lost. Through memories and stories told, it will help us journey through these tough times.
A Note.
A cyber shout out into the universe. Happy Birthday, Karen Bowser, a dear sweet Central Valley school friend and neighbor girl. 65!!! Who would have thought those two hotties swimming and going motorcycle riding with the bad boys on that summer day so long ago would turn 65?!?!?!?!?! Have a wonderful day, however you decide to spend it. I miss you and hope life is treating you well. Joy
If anyone happens to know Karen, please send her my birthday message. The universe has a way of delivering the best messages. J