Monday Morning Musings:
“The purpose of theatre is to bring into public that which is kept offstage. . .”
Paula Vogel, The New Yorker, May 12, 2017.
“We have a story we want to tell you . . .About a play. A play that changed my life. Every night we tell this story—but somehow I can never remember the end. … No matter. I can remember how it begins. It all starts with this moment—”
From Paula Vogel, Indecent
About that breeze
carrying the scent of flowers
in the rain—
now rust-tinged with blood–
does it haunt you?
Listen–
the sound of ghosts walking
through ashes, whispering, whispering
the sound of pain
the sound of love and desire
carried through time
***
We walk
(through, around, over
ghosts)
steps echoing
a city filled
with art and history
there a bridge
named for a poet
(who lived in Camden)
who celebrated history
and nature
human bodies and love
(he spoke of that
which was not spoken)
indecent, some said
unnamed the fear
of love
is love is love is love is love
Celebrating Walt Whitman’s 200th with homemade pizza and Auburn Road’s Eidolon wine
We walk after
seeing my mother
her body dimmed,
no longer so electric
but still pulsing light
generates the warmth
the air, the sky
on a beautiful spring
we eat outside
where souls once gathered
celebrating god and man
and new beginnings
(blinks of time)
the ghosts gather
telling the story
over and over
knowing how it begins,
never knowing how it ends
the play begins with ashes
that later return
but remember the rain scene
(that rain scene!)
that glorious love
passionate and innocent
that shocked—
indecent they said,
that play, and this play
about it–
this love song to Yiddish theater,
to theater,
to the light within us
to memory
to time
so relevant the themes again
immigrants demonized,
and we more polarized
and there is fear
all around
(like ghosts)
twelve more dead,
we shake our heads,
go on with life
(with thoughts and prayers)
but the dead stay dead
and the ghosts whisper,
remember. . .
Yet, we create
and generate
(our bodies electric)
music,
art, and poetry
channeling muses
and spirits
remembering
(the rain scene)
the scent of rain
the light through the trees
and love–
there is love
all around
and friendships
that stay true
through births and deaths
generating
regenerating
remembering
this moment
to the next
always how it begins,
but never how it ends–
the lights go down,
the lights come again,
the ashes fall,
the ghosts whisper,
remember this moment,
remember this
It was a busy weekend: another mass shooting, a celebration, visiting my mom, seeing Indecent at the Arden (I love this play), walks, a bridal shower. We also saw Book of Mormon, the Broadway touring company, but I couldn’t fit that in. We’ve seen it before, and it enjoyed seeing it again.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
A busy week! I like the pattering of rain and ghosts all the way through this.
Thank you. Lately, I seem to see or think of ghosts everywhere–but it fit with the play–as did the rain. 🙂
They give the musing a pleasant, gentle rhythm.
Thank you! 🙂
Those sounds carried through time – such an appropriate image for this post with its reference to your mother’s light
Thank you, Derrick. I thought you’d get it.
You definitely got out and enjoyed yourself. I enjoyed your ghostly theme – after all – everything has a history.
The first weekend in June always seems full of activities. I’m happy the weather was nice.
Yes, everything and all of us have history.
I do love how you all celebrate. 🙂
Thank you, Jill. 🙂
You have fun weekends because you plan them to be so. I’m curious about the water-color in the spiral notebook. It’s lovely! Is it yours?
Well–we do plan some things, Marian–but our theater tickets are part of a series, so it just happened that we had two on the same weekend. And then the shower that I was invited to happened to be that same weekend. . . No, I didn’t get that visual art gene. 🙂 It’s from a sketch book of my mom’s that my daughter found. Thank you!
I love the drift of your poem and how the ghosts never leave it. I imagine them whispering “remember”; why else would there be ghosts? And, yes, it’s the moment to remember. Not to be morbid (but sometimes I can’t help it), when we’re lucky we can keep a moment long past its time, like a voice message from my mom that I won’t erase even though it’s over a year old. Even though I can call her anytime, I like having that voice message to listen to. It was special, a moment I want to remember.
What more could one ask for, beautiful words, photographs, art, even a wedding (I also stalk weddings, sigh) A wonderful post as always Merril!
Aww–thank you very much, Holly! If we walk in Old City, we almost always see a wedding party taking photos on a nice Saturday. 🙂
Hardly anything more beautiful!
Yes, it always make me happy to see them.
They are so beautiful and loving.
Thanks Merril – re-membering – all the members re-membered, and put back together again, yet still trailing ghost-like whisps. (Not sure ‘whisps’ is a word; maybe it should be whispers ..) Lovely post.
Thank you so much, Susan. Whispers and wisps.
Your life is so full! and yes the ghosts always linger.
What a wonderful sense of color and texture in your mother’s painting. Did she always paint? (K)
Thank you, Kerfe.
My mom was always interested in art. She took lessons when she was a girl, but her parents wouldn’t have allowed her to go to college or art school. I remember her doing a little bit of painting when we were growing up, but she mostly returned to it later in life. Her first show was when she in her 80s, I think. 🙂 This was from a sketch book my daughter found the other day in my mom’s apartment.
What a treasure! So much unrealized potential in our parents’ generation of women. Well, my parents wouldn’t let me go to art school either. (How are you going to earn a living?) I still think about it wistfully.
That’s sad, Kerfe. Yeah, they paid for her to go to secretarial school, but then the war came, so everything changed anyway. Her brother became a psychologist–perhaps the GI Bill paid for that, since he was in Korea.
Enjoyed, Merril.
It’s those friends and nature’s beauty that help us cope with the darker side of life.
Thank you, Ken. Yes, you are right.
An “electric” time – I like how the power, the energy, pulses in and out. Like our moms’ light that is dimmed, but still pulsing.
Thank you, Pam. Yes, you are right.
Late but had to come here for your weekly what’s what!
Loved this through and through.
Thank you so much, Dale. I appreciate you going back to read this. 🙂
I am so behind in my emails (and blog notifications!) – but some I hate to miss…
Aww–thank you. It is SO hard to keep up in the best of times. I am also sooooo behind.
Tell me about it!