Saturday, February 21, 2009

Weathervanes


For a few weeks I have been at a loss for words. Taking myself too seriously, or something like that. Maybe it was viewing BodyWorlds. Or burying the sparrow with my grandson. Or my creaky back. Or whatever. But I've been feeling, um, unsettled. Doubting the status quo. A weathervane.

Yesterday Larry H Miller died in Salt Lake City, a man I didn't know, (and you've probably never heard of). But he was famous around here. He died of diabetes and kidney failure. There was a picture of him in today's newspaper, Larry as a teenager, looking young and fresh--even handsome--something I would never have imagined. He was a multi-millionaire and lived in a huge house not too far away...the sight of it would make you gasp, it was that big. He graduated from high school with a 1.77 GPA, and dropped out after six weeks at the University of Utah. He started out selling cars, and at the time of his death he owned 74 business enterprises--car dealerships, movie theaters, a shopping mall, a movie production company, restaurants, TV and radio stations, a professional baseball team, an NBA franchise (the Utah Jazz).... He was a creative genius.

Now he has gone "over the hill, as we all must," according to writer Jim Harrison, in his book Returning to Earth. Today I went alone to see The Reader. Since my movie-buddy Nila died last year, (and my husband chooses not to go to R-rated films) I have begun taking myself once in a while. Not often, but I decided that it's NOW or NEVER. I think The Reader was beautifully done, exceptionally performed. I loved it! But it didn't help this fluctuating, mutable, weathervane of stuff I have been experiencing lately. Maybe it's because this May I turn seventy. Seventy. Elizabeth Kubler Ross said it: If there are things you want to do, do them NOW. I can't say it any better than that.

Now I am going to finish my Pepsi, visit some blog-friends, listen to Garrison Keillor, and watch some TV. I'll feel better tomorrow.

image: archictecturaldepot.com

10 comments:

Jo A. T.B. said...

I know what you mean Joyce, seems like death has followed me these past few years. Even at middle age, I know many who have over that hill, including my Delilah this past week! I'm feeling down again, and it seems to bring back the sadness of all the loved ones I've lost!

You are so right do anything you want to do NOW! Live as if there is no tomorrow!

christine said...

What did you think of BodyWorlds? It has come to Atlanta, but I don't know if I would like it... .

I wish when my time comes to go I would feel only gratitude for the life I've had.

But something tells me I'm going to go kicking and screaming, never gently into that dark night.

Pepsi sounds good.

Joyce Ellen Davis said...

Jo, I am truly sad about your loved Delilah. I do understand your feelings of loss.

Christine ~ you mean to go out like Edna St Vincent Millay, "screaming to the south/ and clutching to the north?" Well, yeah. I remember when my last baby was born I was going to be very quiet and dignified, too. Best laid plans, and all that.

Pepsi's the best. (If you can't drink Coke and Jack Daniels....).

Joyce Ellen Davis said...

BodyWorlds blew me away.

Jo said...

(hugs) Joyce

Tammy said...

Spring will cheer us all up. 70 is the new 50 silly. We LOVED The Reader. We chatted all the way home about what and if she felt. Loved that!

TV is a great slump filler. ;)

Crafty Green Poet said...

I can't decide whether to see the Reader, i enjoyed the book so much that i have felt the film would be a let down but maybe not.... It's always good to go to the cinema alone sometimes,

Michelle said...

Dear Joyce, I hope the clouds have blown away.

Kay said...

I CANNOT believe you will be turning seventy Joyce! You have such a young spirit! Your voice is always energetic and fresh and you are so non-judgemental (which as we get older, is hard to be.) I understand the feelings you are experiencing just now - we go throught these patches. I haven't been my cheery self for some months ... but I know it is a season. Thinking of you ...

Annie said...

Tomorrow has come and gone nine times over. I hope your week has been better, Joyce.