I REMEMBER IT WELL From "Gigi" (1958) Honore & Mamita sing to each other: H: We met at nine M: We met at eight H: I was on time M: No, you were late H: Ah, yes, I remember it well We dined with friends M: We dined alone H: A tenor sang M: A baritone H: Ah, yes, I remember it well That dazzling April moon! M: There was none that night And the month was June H: That's right. That's right. M: It warms my heart to know that you remember still the way you do H: Ah, yes, I remember it well H: How often I've thought of that Friday M: Monday H: night when we had our last rendezvous And somehow I foolishly wondered if you might By some chance be thinking of it too? That carriage ride M: You walked me home H: You lost a glove M: I lost a comb H: Ah, yes, I remember it well That brilliant sky M: We had some rain H: Those Russian songs M: From sunny Spain H: You wore a gown of gold M: I was all in blue H: Am I getting old? M: Oh, no, not you How strong you were How young and gay A prince of love In every way H: Ah, yes, I remember it well
It is hard for me to remember myself at 16. And I’m sure I would be unkind. But I will try. Let me first place myself historically, to give myself some context.
I do recall that was the year of the US Bicentennial Celebrations. There were fire hydrant painting contests all over.
I had begun really reading the newspaper and trying to understand the world through the news. I remember reading about The Son of Sam in New York City and being glad I was so far away.
The $2.oo bill was issued and I took delight in saying things like, “Queer as a two dollar bill.”
The movie “Rocky” came out that year but I don’t remember seeing it then. It has since become one of my favorites and I root for Rocky every time.
I had a better figure than I remember….
And my Mom gave me tarot cards for Christmas. I think it had something to do with the fact that I had read and loved Anne Tyler’s book Searching For Caleb.
I would love to be able to wax philosophically about the past but I really just don’t have it in me. I view the past as some sort of disease (insert half-hearted chuckle) which I have recovered from. It’s hard for me to look at it and not see the scars or the bad decisions or the heart aches. I remember a few years ago my Mom gave me a bundle of letters. It was all the letters I had ever written her since I left home at 18. I read them and contemplated suicide. Truthfully. Perhaps my pain was blunted for her since she had read them spaced out over decades, but for me to read them in a single sitting was devastating. I burned them and wondered at the cruelty of it all.
I know, I’m a Debbie Downer.
Whose idea was it to do this blog challenge anyway?