Tag Archive | Market Street Cinema

Helter skelter

If you’ve read many posts this year, you know 2013 has been helter skelter. But the past few days it’s been helter skelter in the normal, crazy Lolly/Laura’s life way. And that’s a very good thing.

Silas is better, Mother is better, our upstairs is walled and painted, and ob la di.

Silas and John/Pop at Mother's for the family party.

Silas and John/Pop at Mother’s for the family party.

Grammy is in heaven with lovable Luke (and a mimosa) in hand. She's decided those great-grandkids are plenty to live for.

Grammy is in heaven with lovable Luke (and a mimosa) in hand. She’s decided those great-grandkids are plenty to live for.

I’d sing that for you, but I’m in day 2 of laryngitis following the Paul McCartney concert Sunday in Memphis. I promise I didn’t scream as I would have had it been The Beatles in Memphis in 1966, but evidently I did sing along a lot – and yelling was required to communicate with my sister (we were right over the stage in the nosebleed section).

The Cartwright girls had our first concert road trip alone together in 30 years. (The last time was Jackson Browne in Memphis when our kids were toddlers.)

(Sir Paul of course played Jude’s song, and as a dutiful Lolly, I recorded some of it for him on my iPhone.)

Saturday night we made it to Market Street Cinema to see The Company You Keep. (Nicely done with a few major flaws but stellar cast.) You probably had to live through the era to really appreciate the complexities, and all but one couple in the audience was at least John’s age or older. (That put me in the youngest three there, now that I think about it!)

Friday night we rented John Dies at the End (spoiler alert: not really), which we really liked, and I cooked like I haven’t in months. Normalcy.

I could do an entire post about the concert. Super fabulous. Realization of a dream and all that. I could do another about how it felt to know that for two-thirds of the people there, those songs have always existed – and that they have no clue how earth-shattering they were to those of us whose lives were changed at the first note of “I Saw Her Standing There.”

Time After Time

Slowly things are gaining some semblance of normal. This week I finally got in to get my hair done and decided to go for a slightly new ’do (which is really a flashback to my senior year shag, but much shorter than what I’ve had for years). new do

I cut out two maternity tops for Liz, which I’ll try to get made before little Silas arrives, and two aprons so VernaJewel can get back in swing. Even managed to do some work for one of my freelance writing gigs – and enjoyed it mightily.

We did our volunteer gig at the Rep and enjoyed Gee’s Bend.

But time after time things will remind us all that this is the new normal and that things will never be the same. For example, yesterday I looked for my purple and green felted sari (from The Red Sari) to wear to the SoMA Mardi Gras parade and festivities (had a great time). It’s nowhere to be found. I know I wore it several times in the last days of Bill’s hospitalization, and trying to retrace my steps to where I might have lost it brought up lots of memories.

That will keep happening. For instance, today is Bill’s birthday. He’d have been 79. I told Mother several days ago that we’d do something distracting, so Julia, Mother and I went to see Anna Karenina at Market Street Cinema. Mother chose it, we enjoyed it, and the theater was pretty crowded for Market Street on a beautiful day. Kept us distracted for quite a while, even though we knew we were being distracted.

Time as flown since Dec. 29 erupted.

Speaking of time, John and I love time-travel movies, so last night after the neighborhood festivities we rented Looper. I didn’t love it – it was no 12 Monkeys or Somewhere in Time, two of my time-travel favorites – but it was OK. John liked it better than I did, so maybe it was more of a guy movie.

But it did remind me (cliché-fest ahead) that time waits for no one and time marches on. And sometimes things happen time after time. Like losing two dads to similar problems – and learning to live and thrive again afterward, a little smarter, a little sadder and a little more appreciative of how little time we have in the game of life and love.

And how we need to make every minute count and leave nothing important unsaid.

That’s worth being reminded of time after time.