|Heigh-Ho, THe Wind And The Rain
||[Sep. 14th, 2004|09:01 am]
I used to get very maudlin about the end of summer. I guess I was experiencing it as a metaphor for the passing of youth, because now that I'm inescapably middle-aged I don't give a damn. Bring on Autumn! Right now it's raining and blowing hard and I'm just as happy to see it as I would be if the skies were blue.|
now that I'm inescapably middle-aged I don't give a damn. Bring on Autumn! Right now it's raining and blowing hard and I'm just as happy to see it as I would be if the skies were blue.
I once had a friend whose mother-in-law lived with them. The old woman was always very negative and critical--especially of Carol, and she also hated winter.
Carol was a rather artistic and sensitive woman, and one day in early fall after an overnight rainstorm she found some lovely yellow leaves on her grass, some the size of small plates. She took in one of the leaves to show her mother-in-law, who was apparently as sensitive as my friend underneath her fierce exterior, because Carol told me that the leaf frightened her, that she actually held up her hands in front of her face and said, "Winter! Take it away!"
I don't know why I thought of this when reading your post, but since I started I guess I'll finish:
Later, after she developed phlebitis and went into a further decline, Carol's mother-in-law went to a nearby nursing home. There she remained as humorless and unfriendly as ever (and perhaps understandably), and she seemed to particularly find Carol's airy artistic nature unsettling and irritating.
Carol decided to celebrate her mother-in-law's 90th birthday by--who could have thought of anything more unexpected?--a visitation by a clown, who would bring balloons and sing "Happy Birthday To You" at the her bedside.
The old woman woke from her restless sleep to find the clown hovering uncertainly over her face, holding up balloons and clearing his voice to sing.
"Who are you?" she cried out in alarm, and then began to scream for help.
Carol told me about the clown disaster with just a trace of a smile, which made me wonder.
For whatever reason, your happy reaction to fall (which I share--it's my favorite season) brought this memory back to me.
That's a great story.
I find clowns a bit scary too. There's a mask and you don't know what might be hiding behind it.
Paul Newman appeared as a clown in London last week. I can't think why. But there were photographs- and there was no way of knowing that this grotesque figure was beautiful, blue-eyed Paul.