Monday Morning Musings:
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,”
–William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act Two, Scene 7
“My story being done, she gave me for my pains a world of sighs.
She swore, in faith ‘twas strange, ‘twas passing strange.”
–William Shakespeare, Othello, Act One, Scene 3
“Because your mother’s love might seem insane
It’s ’cause she really knows everything
Too bad it takes so long to see what you’ve been missing…(Love like that can’t be measured anyway)
Too bad it takes so long to see what you’ve been missing”Stew and Heidi Rodewald, “Love Like That,” Passing Strange
The weekend is a many-act play
we’re immersed, we stay
(of course),
actors reacting to sudden cues
a little bruised, confused
wondering how to choose–
pratfalls on the shrinking stage,
soliloquy from the acting sage,
we spout our lines and ramble on
waiting for the denouement
We pass in and out
both clueless and without a doubt
stage to stage
filled with joy and filled with rage,
youth to adult
then on to elderly and frail
without fail–
we pass along
we pass in song
we pass through sunshine and shadows–
what will stay and what will follow?
It’s all a mystery,
but before too long
we’ve passed (strange) along, and then we’re gone.
In the midst of these farcical days
we pause to see an actual play
through city streets with rainbow flags
swaying, zig zagging past cars and bikes, we go
wondering, but do not know
when last we three sat this way
(Love like that can’t be measured anyway)
The play is of a young man coming of age,
there on the stage,
the narrator is the older him,
while he, the youth
tries to find life’s truth
fleeing LA,
passing through European cities
leaving before it all become too real
afraid perhaps of what he’ll feel
passing strange
passing as black,
is there any going back?
We all hide behind our chosen masks
going about our daily tasks
art can save us, or can obscure even more
(we hear this in the clever score)
It’s a wonderful play, we say,
and at the end we clap and sway
thankful to have this balm for our crazy days.
We walk and talk and drink some wine
discuss the play, and feeling fine
we talk about my mother,
whose own mother, I find, used to sing
but stopped, when embarrassed,
and it’s strange, in passing
to suddenly hear such things, the past trespassing
in the here and now, and at this age–
yes, the world’s a stage
“Too bad it takes so long to see what you’ve been missing”
And so, we leave the warmth for frozen streets
the city marching to a different, syncopated beat
and we,
well, we’re passing strange
through our own domains
sometimes the hero, sometimes a supporting role
we see it all
sometimes fall
and fail to reach the unknown goal
(strange)
but journey on
with hope for more laughs than tears
and love to help us with the fears.
we make a wish upon a star
wonder who and where and what we are
then pause. . .
in early morning’s brightening light
the moon gently hums before she fades from sight.
We saw the revival of the award-winning musical play, Passing Strange, book and lyrics by Stew, Music by Stew and Heidi Rodewald at the Wilma Theater, and we went to Tria Cafe, Washington West, afterward.
I remain utterly stunned by your poetic skills, Merril. You tell such good stories with such choice words!
What a wonderful, generous compliment, Cindy. Thank you so much.
And we always end up in the stars!
I’ve never seen the play, but I enjoyed the soundtrack when I took it out of the library. (K)
We do, don’t we, Kerfe? 🙂
Superbly expressed musings, Merril. I guess this is all very poignant at the moment
Thank you very much, Derrick. Yes, it is a bit, Derrick, but it has been fun having our daughter here, and we had good time.
Great photos of (part of) your family! Loved this and hope I get to see the show. So your grandmother was a singer?
Thanks, Luanne. Apparently, she had a nice voice. I never knew this.
This is like an epic poem, well told. Loved the photos, too.
Thank you so much, Victoria!
I’m immersed in your words, the mood of the poem, the thoughts of the play, the musical lyricism in your poem, and the background nostalgic feeling of how fast life passes us by. Whoa – intense stuff for my early Friday morning. I’ll be thinking about this all day. Your work is brilliant. xo
Thank you very much for your kind words and praise, Pam. I appreciate it so much!
This was a wonderful story of lives which pass so fleetingly but hold so much within the time given. I always rejoice and revel in your Monday’s Musings. You don’t sound like any bumps in the road will slow you down, even sad times may be felt deeply yet faced bravely together. This is family at its best!
The photos are really sweet in their simple joy in spending time together. Your photo of daughter while tilting her head towards yours was my warmest favorite.
What a kind and thoughtful comment, Robin. Thank you. My daughter came to visit for the weekend because she was worried about my mother–and me. ❤ We had tickets to the show, and I thought she'd like it–and I was able to get her a seat right next to ours. She had never been to Tria with us either, so that was fun, too.
I forgot to say, the crescent moon photo was dreamy looking. I remember you wished I had taken a shot at it, but yours fit the mood of your words, “the moon gently hums before she fades from sight.” It reminded me of when I worked in theatre (I was senior class director) and would say to the lighting department, “Now fade the lights!” 😊
Thank you, Robin. I’m glad you think the photo fit my words. 🙂