Monday Morning Musings:
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.
–Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe, “I Remember It Well, Gigi (1958)
(You can watch the clip here.)
“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
–William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act 1, Scene 1
The weekend began, a cancelled flight
a change in plans, arrival not in morning light
but dinner time instead
the arts and crafts afternoon postponed, but summer roll making takes place
dipping rice paper, filling, and rolling; no art or grace
perhaps,
but we like to eat and talk and talk and eat
spicy, hot, crunchy, and sweet,
We say L’chaim, and toast with Sangria,
my girls and their spouses here together
we celebrate good news, now in summer weather
with cats under foot and spirits high
we laugh and talk, and so time flies.
With mirth and laughter
I remember it well.
The next day, for my mom, her birthday party
she’ll be 94, though not as hale, she’s still hearty
coming, too, her cousin S.
They live in the same Philadelphia building, on different floors,
they’ve both lived years, well, let’s say scores.
S. says at her age every birthday is a big one
(She’s just celebrated her 90th, but still ready for more fun.)
My husband and I drive them to my sister’s
our daughters and their spouses are in another car.
We pass a street, and S. recalls, a memory from afar
of a friend of hers that lived there once.
S. says, “They had a drugstore.”
and a husband who thought he was more.
He was not very bright, but rather full of himself,
With mirth and laughter
She remembers him well.
S.compares him to a current political candidate.
He thought he was so great,
he lost his business, a gambling debt
then became a maître d’ at a fancy restaurant
where he put on a fake British accent, no savant
that accent sometimes came, then went.
We pass an apartment house where S. once resided
my mom jumps in, with a remark, decided
a refrigerator S. mentions is like one they had in France.
(Now pause while I digress from rhyme
while Mom and S. discuss this time.)
“Where in France?” asks S.
My mom at first does not remember.
But then with triumph, announces, “Paris.”
“We were never in Paris!” says S.
“I don’t like Paris. It’s a big city like New York.”
“It was Paris,” my mother insists.
“You bought dishes,” says she.
“Oh, you’re right,” S. says. “It was Paris. I bought some dessert plates.”
“You bought a whole set of dishes,” my mom says, “You had them sent.”
“No, I bought some small plates. They tied them in a box with strings
and we carried them.”
Ah yes, they remember it well.
At my sister’s house, we arrive to celebrate
Generations eat, talk, laugh, debate
(Because we love to eat and talk)
We do so, then there’s cake with candles
My young great nephew expertly handles
this carrying it in with proud aplomb
so for cakes, there’s more than one
because we need more birthday fun
My young grandnephew eats his—using both his fork and his hand
(because sometimes life is just so grand)
Then it’s time to share some cards and art
signs of affection, from the heart.
Repeal Hyde Art Project, Megan J. Smith
With mirth and laughter
We remember it well.
There’s a movie of S. with a scene from one “real”
She was young, the movie quite “B”, a clip from the reel.
She tells us the story of how she was a director’s assistant
then became the line coach for actresses not gifted
with brains, as much as beauty, and lines they uttered shifted
or could not be recalled at all.
So S. was given a scene and sits at a desk, but she asked for pay first
no more work without being reimbursed.
My daughter-in-law tell of her analysis of a survey of teenage risky behavior
There are more stories that day, of middle school age problems and dramas
It’s the age, we all agree, nodding daughters and mamas,
Oh yes, we all agree, but they outgrow the drama.
With mirth and laughter
We remember it well.
We head out, S. says it was a lovely party.
(I am glad both my mom and S. are still so hearty)
Then S. says with a laugh
“It makes you want to get another year older, just so you can do it again.”
And so we set out then, set out then, driving in the rain
to take them home from this celebration
with food purchased and packaged in the trunk of the car
which I carry upstairs, thankfully not too far.
A day of stories and celebration–
We may not remember it all, but we remember it well.
“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
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