At the leaving
As our summer sojourn in Ireland was about to come to a close, a strange but familiar phenomenon began once again.
Although our eyes are often drawn to a beautiful Irish sky on a fine day, at the end of our visits our eyes unwillingly seek the contrails of planes heading west. Perhaps it's a way to gradually prepare us for the ache of our leaving; perhaps it's a borrowing of trouble. Regardless, we see ourselves high above Ireland, flying directly above our summer home, looking down on the beauty of Clew Bay, Croagh Patrick and Achill Island. And having a wistful and forlorn farewell.
Planes from Dublin to the States are most commonly directed over Co. Mayo, Clew Bay and Westport itself.
As I found myself descending into lament, another thought came to mind. A re-framing, a contextualizing of how this leaving is a gift, of sorts - a gift I had sought and had now obtained. At some cost perhaps, but with an offsetting benevolence.
A number of years ago - forty to be more precise - the movie On Golden Pond was released. You may remember it. It was the story of an aging university professor, Norman Thayer who was struggling with the onset of dementia at the twilight of his life. Henry and Jane Fonda, along with Katherine Hepburn and Dabney Coleman starred. Another significant part of the plot was his strained relationship with his daughter. I'm a simple soul and thoroughly loved the movie, as well as the live stage show at the VB Theatre Guild. Others might have found them mawkish, overly sentimental and formulaic.
Roger Ebert, in his review of the film, expressed this ambivalence, while paying homage to the sweet humanity of the story and the honesty of the actors' portrayals.
Simple affection is so rare in the movies. Shyness and resentment are also seldom seen. Love is much talked-about, but how often do we really believe that the characters are in love and not simply in a pleasant state of lust and like? Fragile emotions are hard to portray in a movie, and the movies that reach for them are more daring, really, than movies that bludgeon us with things like anger and revenge, which are easy to portray
"On Golden Pond" is a treasure for many reasons, but the best one, I think, is that I could believe it. I could believe in its major characters and their relationships, and in the things they felt for one another, and there were moments when the movie was witness to human growth and change. I left the theater feeling good and warm, and with a certain resolve to try to mend my own relationships and learn to start listening better. All of those achievements are small miracles for any movie, but especially for this one, which began as a formula stage play and still contains situations and characters that are constructed completely out of cardboard.
For me, the movie touched a different and powerful chord in my mid-thirty-year-old heart. I was drawn to Norman's comfortable and well-defined routine of life - a routine that allowed him to reflect on the past year and prepare for the next.
This routine was the process of opening his summer home on Loon Lake, with all its familiar tasks - taking down the storm windows, running water back into the pipes, taking the dustcovers off furniture, planting a garden. And the reverse of this at summer's end. A definitive marking of seasons; a complete change from the regimen of a demanding academic life; a quiet time - to settle and center, with no external demands.
For me - in the midst of building a career, in the midst of raising ten-year-old and one-year-old daughters, in the midst of balancing time between our two demanding jobs, in the midst of paying bills, of worrying over our future, of keeping contact with friends and family - life just seemed to be whirlwind - is it Easter again, is it Thanksgiving so soon, what are those Christmas decorations doing in the stores...?
I am certain everyone has experienced these common thoughts and emotions. And a common longing to slow it all down, to have the time to fully experience the small joys of life before racing on to the next demand, the next responsibility, the next stage of life.
Splitting our year between Florida and Ireland has afforded me this opportunity. One that I plan to use more fully. To take the time to reflect on the past, value the present, and positively anticipate the future. Life is not just one continuously spinning gerbil wheel...
So I look forward to removing our dustcovers next May. To replanting our terrace garden. To taking our clothes out of their plastic wrappings, to washing and polishing glasses, to reconnecting electronic devices. And to packing them up again when the time comes.
These recollections of On Golden Pond, and its emotional impact on me more than forty years ago, were a kind gift, coming unsummoned from some place deep in my spirit. Gratitude is in order...
