THERE WERE LINES - UNFORTUNATELY

I’ve mentioned before that I love movies, and that I love books. You can’t really compare the two. The richness and power of a book far out shines even the best Academy Award winning film. I’m not taking anything away from a great movie, but they are just too short.

I have seen the film “The Help.” Loved it. Viola Davis should be nominated for an Academy Award as best actress for her role as a maid. Her movements and face convey so much more than just her words. It is a powerful performance.

I am now reading the book, “The Film.” The movie missed some terrific scenes. There is on about Skeeter leaving her satchel in a place where Hilly found it. Her had all her notes for the book in the outside flap and all her notes for women’s meeting in the center. Another great scene involves Skeeter and her parents going to her boyfriend’s historic mansion for supper. That’s both funny and sad. Also, a naked man in the back yard, very funny, attacks Minny, and her boss Celia.

None of these scenes are in the film. I am aware it would have been way longer than an American audience would tolerate. That’s why you must read the book.

I’m at a point where Aibileen is telling Minny that there are no lines between the races. They are all made up and some whites are trying to push them into subservience. This reminded me of my relationship with Austin. He and I were in school together from kindergarten through eighth grade. We attended high school together also, but things changed that I regret. A third of my grade school was black. They were just kids I went to school with. There were no black or white kids there were just kinds. I didn’t even know there were issues until we were in the eighth grade. While on Safety patrol at our very quiet corner we were pretending to fight. The fake punched the rolling on the ground, the falls, it was so much fun. One day a car screeched to a halt and a white man came and pulled Austin off me threatening him to leave the white boy alone or he would beat him to a pulp. Frankly, I didn’t know what was happening. Austin did and he went home sheepishly and quietly. The next day Austin schooled me on lines I never knew existed. I felt them more in high school and the blacks and whites were more separate. Blacks were in all the sports and some music activities but not in any of the other clubs. I recently checked my yearbooks. The teen focus on me, my fears, my bashfulness, loneliness and fight for acceptance blinded me to their lack of acceptance. We gradually steered clear of one another with ever having a discussion as to why.

That was my failure, my mistake, and my sin. I never reached out to Austin. We reconnected at an eighth grade reunion the year after high school graduation. We talked like we had never been apart. It was catching up time, then I left for college in Canada and I lost track of him. A year or two later I learned that he was down south preparing for the ministry. Fascinating, as I went north for the same reason. And here we both wanted to be Hollywood stunt men.

I have tried again is recent years to find him. I found a New Jersey article about him fighting the legalization of gay marriage. The photo showed him in clerical robes. However, I never found him. I owe him an apology and need his forgiveness. As much as I love him in out childhood, I failed him as an adult.

UPCHUCK AND MORE

Every once-in-a-while I get hit in the stomach with whatever and it begins to leak out of both ends. I start with the runs that seem more like a sudden explosion. I did manage to get to sleep and at 2:30 I began the upper volcanic explosion that felt like it might last as long at Mount St. Helens. It kept coming and coming and coming and — have you had enough yet. Just one more, the next day I had the runs all day. Enough said.

That was yesterday. I did get a good jump on reading The Help. Since I have already seen the movie I am delighted about how closely the movie follows the book. This is only the second time a movie has motivated me to get the book. My neighbor across the hall loaned me her copy. There are three descriptions of people in the book that are physically dramatically different than their movie counter parts. However, I will give the actors credit, they certainly convey the right spirit and attitude.

So today is my first day I sorta fell like myself. That is if I have any idea what it means to feel like myself. Would that be my 16-year-old-self, my 24-year-old self, my 35-year-old self, or my 50-year-old self? I remember each of these phases and that is not what I felt like. I think I feel lie my 80-year-old-self. I’m not that old yet, but went the way of the missing cat. Gone, but where?

Work has been piling up. I have a terrible habit to pile my dishes in the sink until I have no clean ones. I managed to get a few done today so I could survive the weekend. I had no clothes for Sunday so I had to do laundry. But my book was calling. When I get hooked on a book I like that will consume me. I argue that I am retired, no one visits my apartment, my family is across the water for the weekend, and I can do all this later. When my eyes gat tired I watched a Netflix rental called John Rabe. In German, Chinese and English. You have to keep your eye3s open and read quickly. I missed some, but not much. Maybe I will be able to read faster when my hearing aids arrive.

John Rabe is a terrific true story of a German in Nanking, China, in 1937 when the Japanese were attacking China. He had been sent by Germany 27 years earlier to bui8ld a power plant. He had done a terrific job and was set to go home when the Japanese began the attacks. Stuck in Nanking negotiated a safe zone and saved over 200,000 Chinese from certain death. There’s a lot more, but this isn’t a movie review — is it?

I spend some time on the porch with the Precious Ladies of The Front Porch.  Chas is usually there but he goes to church on Saturday night. My laundry was drying so I joined them until the crowd got so large I could not hear everything. I am now very aware of my lass of hearing. I now realize how often I say “pardon.” I talked to my daughter on the phone today and just skipped over something she said that I did not understand. I wondered how often I did that. Pretending! Takes me back to acting days — I guess I’m still in those. Also, the larger the group, the less interested I am in hanging out. I suppose I’m frustrated by the lack of my ability to focus.

I guess that will all change. I will either be like my brother David who is glad to have his hearing aids, or like my oldest brother Harlow who hated them and refused to wear them. His children hated visiting him since he could not hear them and gave up trying. I don’t want that.