Before we go any further, a quick update on a story I told several weeks ago, one that generated lots of comments from readers.
And it gives me great pleasure to share the news.
As of this morning, I can report the damage caused by vandals at my parents’ gravesite has been fully repaired. The headstone that had been shoved off its base and driven into the ground with considerable force has been restored to its original position.
That’s a very good thing, and I’m grateful for the quick response.
Unfortunately, not all of the resting places whose monuments had been similarly and violently disturbed have yet to be dealt with, but I suspect those may involve more serious reconstruction and will get their rightful attention in the near future. That’s my hope.
As far as who did it and why, whether they’ve been apprehended and charged and how far along the investigation has gotten, these are issues that, to my knowledge, remain under wraps as the authorities continue to work the problem. I will not speculate on any of that.
More than 130 gravesites were vandalized that night in June, and at least that many families have had to wonder what’s wrong with folks these days, the anger and the hate required to act so hideously.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know the latest and to thank those who acted so promptly on behalf of neighbors in a time of need.
Which brings us to Blanche DuBois and her immortal 10 words:
“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
That, of course, is taken from Tennessee Williams’ 1947 play, “A Streetcar Named Desire,” made into a classic film four years later.
Since my wife and I cut the cord when cable became prohibitively expensive — in North Carolina, we were charged $220 a month for the service — we’ve relied on various streaming services, which means I’ve been watching lots and lots of old movies lately.
This makes me happy, even though I’ve seen most of them before.
It’s also probably the effect of growing older at a time when everything new is foreign to me and I lack the energy and the interest to waste what time I have left on stupidity and vacuity.
The other night — or, more accurately, the other morning, since I inhabit vampire hours — I decided to watch “Gone With the Wind.”
Having lived in the American South for nearly 25 years and absorbed a great deal of Dixie’s charms and flaws, I was curious as to how my feelings about the film might have changed. Made in 1939 and based on a culture structured on slavery, “GWTW” had always struck me as a tone-deaf anachronism, a love letter to a time when blacks were considered inferior and treason was valued.
But as I watched it, I remembered how my mother — certainly no racist, but a staunch supporter of underdogs, including the Confederacy — absolutely adored the movie; in fact, aside from “The Godfather,” I can’t think of a film she treasured more.
She’d have been in her early 20s when it premiered, and I’m pretty sure she had read Margaret Mitchell’s novel in her teens.
Mom — whose family dog was named Tara — loved Scarlett O’Hara so much that very often, when life and luck conspired against her, she would gather herself into her tallest posture, stand defiantly and declare, “As God as my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!”
The impact was dulled a bit when she was standing in her kitchen.
But still … another iconic movie line consisting of 10 words.
Earlier in this essay, I referenced Blanche DuBois, and as I’m certain many, many of you already know, the same actress played both on-screen roles, which I consider an incredibly impressive feat.
Sure, there are similarities between them: Both are Southern belles, after a fashion, and toyed with men’s affections, up to a point, but Vivien Leigh (who was British, by the way) gives astonishingly deep and heartfelt performances of women who have been wronged, either by fate, timing, the world writ large or bad luck.
I’m not sure why she’s not regarded more widely as one of the best.
But that’s not for me to say. I think more of myself than I ought to.
I’m content to play fantasy baseball, bowl a couple of times a week, cook when I’m in the mood, go to the lake with my wife, and, after she’s all tucked in, to cue up “A Hard Day’s Night” and let it play.
How many times have I watched it since I saw it at the theater in fall 1964, a few months after the family moved to this town?
At least 100 times, probably more than that. I’ve committed large portions of dialogue to memory so that if you ask, “Are you listening to me, Lennon?,” I’ll quickly respond, “You’re a swine.”
Has there been a better music movie than “A Hard Day’s Night?”
Again, that’s not for me to say. Some folks don’t like the Beatles.
And that’s fine. I mean some people don’t read books, either.
Am I saying they’re definitely the ones who vandalize graveyards? Of course not, but I wouldn’t be surprised since they’re all swine.
Mike Dewey can be reached at Carolinamiked@aol.com or 1317 Troy Road, Ashland, OH 44805. He invites you to join him on his Facebook page,where any kind of good news is always welcome.
