Something about these chilly, drizzly days makes me want to bring Dorothy Anne, Emily, and Rosa out from their bed under my vanity to enjoy each other's company on our bed. It gives me a cozy feeling to see them there. After I'd tucked them all up this morning, I came back into my room later to find Jack laying beside them. Perhaps he found them cozy too, and I appreciated him keeping a sleepy eye on them. Or maybe they were keeping watch over him. Whichever, the dollies were my proxies, snuggled up in bed where I wished I was, reading Ann Patchett's new book which I have been reading for the past few nights. The book starts out with a recounting of a community production of "Our Town" wherein the book's protagonist played Emily when she was young, and it brought back so many memories for me. I, too, played Emily in a community production of "Our Town" when I was in high school and quite honestly, it was far more of a formative experience than I realized at the time. I have no memory of what compelled me to even audition for the play. I know I was in drama club in school but was that before or after "Our Town"? I don't know. Not only do I not remember what compelled me, I don't remember why I thought I could do the part. It just seemed like what I was supposed to do. A good friend of mine got the part of the Stage Manager and he was fabulous in it. The folks who played my parents were terrific and the George character was played by the boyfriend of one of the most popular senior girls at our school. She was a cheerleader and in all the clubs and I think he was sort of a BMOC himself. Football player, basketball player, that sort of thing, but obviously with a streak of the arts in him.
Anyway, I loved playing Emily. Loved it with all of my heart. Loved the play too. There is so much in it that I believe I have carried with me my entire life. That message that the dead would give anything to go back to their life for one day. Even one day that didn't matter much at all in the grand scheme of things. Not a special day. Just one, regular, boring day from a life.
I think I did a good job in that part. Everyone said so but you know how that goes. The thing I remember most is that I had a big, athletic Black guy friend (we were the first class in Winter Haven that was segregated, I do believe) who went to see the play and he told me afterwards, "You made me cry." He said it like he couldn't even believe it.
I have never received a compliment on my acting that came anywhere near close to affecting me the way that did.
So anyway, the Patchett book has grabbed me from page one. It's set in a cherry orchard where three daughters have come home to hunker down during covid and help their parents get in the crop of cherries as the regular pickers and workers are isolating elsewhere. I am going to take my time with this book and savor every bit of it.
I called my urologist's office today. I actually called the surgery scheduler but told her that I had a few more questions I wanted to ask the doctor before I committed to a date. She said she'd have him call me and I think she probably will. But that may take some time. Meanwhile, the stone has been quiet today, not shouty or jittery. I appreciate that.
I made my pastry for two pies and froze that. I would have gone ahead and made the pies but I need more pecans and will go to Costco tomorrow to get them. I will make a regular pecan pie and a chocolate pecan pie, as is my custom, using Granny Matthews' recipes. For any of you who have not met Granny Matthews in these pages, just do a little search up there in the tiny window at the top left of the page. I hope with all of my heart that when I am long gone, there will still be someone in my family who makes these pies for Thanksgiving. Nothing could make me happier. I see no reason why this should not happen. There are no better pecan pie recipes on this earth.
Speaking of things that make me happy- Billy texted me today to tell me that Waylon is really into the Beatles right now. Waylon is Billy and Shayla's son and he is autistic. So when he gets into something, he gets INTO it. Billy said that perhaps Waylon and I could talk about the Beatles because he knows I love them too. I said yes, of course! and sent me Waylon's number to text because he doesn't really like to talk on the phone which is great because neither do I. So we texted back and forth a little bit and his favorite songs are "Yellow Submarine", "Blackbird", and "Help"! His favorite Beatles are John and Paul.
Wow! I have literally known Waylon since he was about ten minutes old and this is the first he's really communicated with me so I am just thrilled. I ordered him a Beatle's T-shirt and I can't wait for him to get it.
When I think about all of the pleasure that the Beatles brought to this world and how they still are bringing pleasure and joy to this world, it makes me teary-eyed. And now they have given me something I can discuss with Waylon and in our love of the Beatles, we are equals.
Something about this seems magical. Not "almost" magical. Simply magical. But haven't the Beatles always been magical?
I think so. I know they created magic. And they are still very much a part of our world. As Hank says, if a Beatles' song starts playing anywhere, everyone in the room will be singing along before it's over. They are here, there, and everywhere.
You know I love my Rolling Stones but the Beatles are the other half of my heart when it comes to the music that have made me happy for almost as far back as I can remember.
One more thing before I go. Many of you here know Ellen from Stuff From Ellen's Head. She has been a part of my life for many years now, a part of this community whom I cherish. We have much in common and I have a deep respect for her, her art, her work ethic, her politics, her outlook. And today she wrote about a devastating loss she has suffered. If you haven't read her post, you can go to the link above and do so. Send her some love. She needs it.