[lit-ideas] Re: Becoming Old

  • From: Lawrence Helm <lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: Omar Kusturica <omarkusto@xxxxxxxxx>, lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2017 20:20:26 -0700

Omar,

Hmm. Language is often dangerous, even often unwittingly so. I'm in a Pentax photographic forum and one of its members, a Romanian, just today announced that two of his photos had been selected to be on two of his nations stamps. I congratulated him as many others were doing, but added that I couldn't think of a more prestigious achievement by a modern day photographer. And I almost asked him, "have you ever seen the movie /Fargo/," but hesitated and went over the character Norm Gunderson in my mind; then I realized that my opinion about how prestigious an achievement this was came from that movie. That perhaps wasn't so bad but Norm Gunderson is presented as a very petty, unlovely and selfish person; so I left out all mention of "Fargo" and ended my note early. :-)

Lawrence



On 7/27/2017 6:41 PM, Omar Kusturica wrote:

It is another one of John of Yokohama tactless comments, wearing sandals with socks.



On Fri, Jul 28, 2017 at 3:21 AM, John McCreery <john.mccreery@xxxxxxxxx <mailto:john.mccreery@xxxxxxxxx>> wrote:

    Eloquent. Go gently into that dark night.

    John

    Sent from my iPad

    > On Jul 28, 2017, at 10:05, Lawrence Helm
    <lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx <mailto:lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>>
    wrote:
    >
    >
    >
    >
    >    Was I old before Susan died?
    >    I didn’t know.  She couldn’t
    >    Stand nor walk not talk to any
    >    Degree.  I’d take the stairs two
    >    At a time to get her lip gloss or
    >    Book or mint and find her below
    >    Smiling; so I entered that glow.
    >
    >    I was there beside her
    >    Indeterminately aged and
    >    Demeanored, shielding her from
    >    Intransigent winds wrinkling her brow.
    >    She’d look at me and smile.
    >    I’d smile back holding her cup
    >    While she drank and all that while
    >
    >    She seemed as though I was all that
    >    Was needed, strong, able to
    >    Lift her into her chair and wheel
    >    Her wherever she wished, but
    >    When her shield fell and mine
    >    I felt it.  Was it then I grew
    >    Old, and shall I take to hobbling,
    >
    >    And go about now with a cane?
    >    I haven’t given her wheel chair
    >    Away; perhaps I’ll carry it
    >    Up stairs and sit in a
    >    Deception.  How far shall I
    >    Venture?  I don’t presently
    >    See a path I recognize.
    >
    >
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