Mary Richards, Wherefore Art Thou?

Sunday, Feb. 2, 2003 -
Ap�sl�min ida corbalanyrtne 'ls�o rohl'daathi�m v� nen�a iroyss�rd.

I'm gonna risk scandalizing the proprieties and put up my latest fave ICD* banner.

cavort banner by genibee

Maybe we could consider this an experiment in the shameless dichotomy of national mourning. Which was typified for me yesterday after the President's little speech, when Dan Rather interrupted the customary moment of silence with, "And now the nation observes a moment of silence." Or some such statement rendering the national moment of silence into a national moment of pointless commentary. But I shouldn't castigate Dan for his lousy sense of timing--taken by surprise, I was eating a raw carrot throughout the national moment of silence, and since carrot-eaters are not renowned for their quiet mastication, my moment of national grief was rather crunchy.

(The manly-chested gentleman's name is Piero Pelu. I'm told he's an Italian pop star.)

~

The odd thing, or saving grace, about real grief, personal grief, is that it doesn't come without an element of humor. At least, that's been my experience of it. When my sister Rima was dying of cancer, along with the requisite anger, fear, and weeping, there was a lot of jocularity, and she cracked jokes on her literal deathbed. After my dad died, when we were sorting through his stuff and settling his estate, which took a wearying toll of time and energy, my sister Maritilde, the mater and I laughed quite as often as we cried, probably more. I wonder...is it all just whistling in the graveyard? Are we laughing at death, in our nervousness, the way we laugh when watching a really scary movie? Or are we laughing at life? For its puny effrontery, its defiant Chaplinesque buffoonery in the face of the sheer mass of all that is unliving in the universe.

Or is there a part of death, like life, that is just plain funny?

~

*International Cavorting Day

<~>
Ap�sl�min ida corbalan� 'lse nesgla ugar�-cham sa cru ogrulho bat�oltha al�mv�sde.

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