Snow - Falling Slowly

We've seen snow in nearly all its forms this winter - as tiny pellets, as freezing rain, slow and stately, whipping horizontal on the wings of a blizzard, even accompanied by thunder and lightning. Last week's banks of fluff turned to stone under a cold rain, then were blessed with a softer coat last night.

I am reminded of this passage from Cormac McCarthy's The Crossing: "The snow in the pass was half way to the horse's belly and the horse trod down the drifts in high elegance and swung its smoking muzzle over the white and crystal reefs..."

Did you see Cormac McCarthy at the Oscars on Sunday? They cut to a shot of him and his young son as the Coens were accepting the Best Adapted Screenplay award for their version of his book No Country for Old Men. That was my second favorite moment of the night.

My first was, of course, the entire Once narrative arc - First, the tension as the other best song nominees did their fancy stuff; Amy Adams's verbal gymnastics and Kristin Chenoweth's smiling soprano made their Swartz/Menken songs seem hard to beat. Then the satisfying sweetness of Marketa Irglova and Glen Hansard's duet, followed by the swoop of my stomach (perhaps a bit of what Colin Farrell and John Travolta felt when they slipped on that same slick spot onstage) as Travolta pulled the envelope out of his pocket. And Yes! Such real, un-Hollywood beauty and energy as the two take the stage. Tempered with a little disappointment, Irglova's stolen thank you moment. And a surprise ending - Jon Stewart heroically steals it back! And we get to hear her lovely heartfelt speech.

I believe this may explain why none of the other songs from "Once" (I thought the driving "When Your Mind's Made Up" and the anguished "Leave" to be compositions as strong as the delicate song that won) were nominated. Only songs that are written for the film in which they appear can be considered for nomination.
My third favorite moment of the night? A 1954 clip of Bette Davis, looking like a pixie alien in her little sparkly hat(!) as she hands the Best Actor award to Marlon Brando for On the Waterfront.

How We Met

At work. Perhaps a mundane setting, but it was turning point for me. Life-determining to our daughters.

April, 1991. My first day on the job at a commercial editing house. I had been introduced to maybe thirty people that day. Then Randy walked in and gave me this direct and honest smile. He was the most handsome and kind and considerate person I had met that day. Uh-oh, I know what that means.

I asked my new friend Katie: “Is Randy gay?”

“Oh, no.”

Yeah!!

“He’s had a girlfriend for the past seven years.”

Boo.

So I waited. Dated other people. Applied to graduate school. Thrilled at any chance encounter with him. Then came the morning in the office when Terry Comer asked, “Where’s Randy?” He was normally the most dependable of the assistant editors. There was a rush of phone calls; the whole story emerged later that he had broken up with his girlfriend, got loaded at a Prince concert the night before and slept through the alarm.

Yeah!! A bad boy! Edgy, tortured and tragic – just my type!! Who commits for years!

I confided my crush to Terry. The next time Randy wandered into our office, Terry asked, “Randy, are you driving to Kansas for Easter to see your folks? Cindy is going to Kansas City - why don’t you share a ride?”

Randy still gives me shit about this. He claims I got him hooked under false pretences. Claims I would rarely drive home for Easter. True. All’s fair.

It was our eight-hour road trips there and back that clinched it. I didn’t ever want to get home. He ate the strawberries I brought. I told him about the amazing Cormac McCarthy book I had just read, with its hard nail scene of one cowboy shoving another's dislocated shoulder back in place. Randy told me about his own shoulder, popped out at a Sonic Youth Public Enemy concert. We stopped to look at hillbilly souvenirs, walnut bowls and corncob pipes. We took Polaroids. We traded family stories and, I think, felt some amazement and gratitude when our harrowing tales didn't scare the other one off. I fell in love.

It took until May Day and then he became my comrade. Now he’s the father of my girls. Loving, patient and fun. Just my type.