The world feels like a saner, safer place right now, with two humane, sensible people running for office in the U.S. Could it be that the lunatics will be forced back into their grotty holes? Well, no, because three teenagers have been arrested for a terrorist plot in Austria, intending to slaughter people at a Taylor Swift concert. Lots of lunatics out there still, not to mention the current crop of warmongers raining death upon their own people and others. But Kamala and Tim, sanity in suits – thank you for them.
Tuesday I went across town to meet the boys after the day camp at their school, to walk them home and feed them until their mother got home. They’d had a very active day so I didn’t mind the video games, although to my great joy, I did get to read lots more chapters of Holes to Eli, such a good book. Sometimes when we are reading, he puts his head on my shoulder. Nothing feels so good.
Ben had an avatar at his very clever online baseball game; on-screen Ben was six-foot-two and weighed 210 pounds. Actual Ben has a little way to go.
Anna was supposed to be home by 5.30. By 6.30 I’d been texting her and heard nothing back, she who’s attached to her phone as to an umbilical cord. My sensible mind said something must have happened to her phone, but my mother mind eventually went into hyperdrive – kidnapping! Accident! Finally, around 7, she got in touch. She’d left her phone in an Uber, couldn’t call to get it because it was in the Uber, didn’t know my number because it’s in her phone. It took the poor woman a long time to get it back and then get home. She has so much going on – is leaving tomorrow for a family wedding in Winnipeg while the boys go to Matt’s for the weekend, and then back late Sunday to spend Monday getting ready to leave Tuesday with her boys for almost two weeks with her best friend in Nova Scotia. It’s a good thing she’s young. Well, younger than some of us.
Speaking of which, I saw a fabulous film today, about aging, regret, love lost and found, youthful idealism, old age yearning, and so much more. Touch is an Icelandic film and simply exquisite; haunting. Could not have loved it more. Achingly beautiful, I’d say, because I ached as I walked out. An elderly Icelandic widower facing decline goes in search of his first great love, which takes him to London and then to Japan. We see him now and him then, wonderful flashback scenes of the sixties, there he is (the very handsome young actor is the son of the film’s director) with a headband holding back his long hair at a student protest – we must be about the same age, he and I. No, he’s a bit older, he moves more slowly than I. But still, I have to say that I left glad not to have a youthful lost love to mourn. Except for Paul McCartney, of course.
Speaking of aging, Sam sent me this this, from Instagram: “I knew I’d get too old to recognize celebrities but I did not expect to get too old to recognize what celebrities are famous for. I go, ‘Is that a new singer?’ and a person born in 2007 goes, ‘Ew no, they’re a peeble streamer on doop,’ as I inch closer to the grave.”
Me too. LOL!
Here’s the man himself with his great love. Photograph by his adoring mother.
And here she is, just sent by the San Miguel Writers’ Conference — Faculty! With all her faculties, we hope. For now, at least. Fingers crossed.
