Bits 'n' Pieces for an April Day
Fri., April 12, 06:23 AM
Go Huskies! And go they did. In winning the NCAA Women’s Championship, the University of Connecticut displayed so many splendid qualities that I can’t help but admire them. Even if I weren’t extra proud because I’m an alumna, I would love watching this team. (Not only athletes, they're dean's list students!)
My brother’s birthday is in early April. It seems as if I should remember it, since there’s not really anyone else who still does. Maybe a couple of aunts and cousins, but they weren’t there. I was the one who woke up to find my mother not home. My grandmother was so excited she followed me into the bathroom to tell me I had a brother. I remember not being impressed.
We celebrated Passover. It’s one of those things that have loomed important some years and almost been ignored in others. Both my daughters were unable to attend the Seder, and it seemed as if we might almost skip it, but it is Passover after all. With no children to teach, my son and I breezed through the ceremony, hitting the high spots and skipping the long commentaries. For once, I was organized enough that I actually got everything ready in time.
(I cook so seldom these days that I’m forgetting how. I unwrapped the chicken and thought, “what am I supposed to do with this?” I remembered in time; the soup was delicious.)
The world lost Milton Berle last month. He parlayed his experience in vaudeville – a dying art form – into a new medium and helped start a whole new industry. And I missed it! With no television at home, I only saw his show on the occasions when I happened to be visiting someone on a Tuesday night. By the time we had TV at our house, there were other programs to watch. Uncle Miltie was not my mother’s style; my father had enjoyed all sorts of vaudeville, but he would always defer to my mother. Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca yes, Milton Berle no.
England, meanwhile, lost its Queen Mother. The proper term for the widowed mother of a monarch is “dowager queen,” but there was already a dowager queen (Queen Mary, grandmother of Queen Elizabeth II). So they called this one the Queen Mother, and the people called her the Queen Mum. They adored her; she was everything they wanted in a royal personage. It seems a pity that Princess Diana’s problems prevented her from being quite the same – but then the Queen Mum had something Diana never had, a faithful husband.
I’ve been having a discussion with a young friend about men’s facial hair. I find this very amusing because I’m the one who grew up when it was out of fashion, but I’m the one defending it. “Why didn’t he have the courtesy to shave?” she rants. I don’t see it as an insult. I’ve come to recognize that many men, including my son, look quite handsome with beards. Even more, though, I know that it’s not the hair. If you like the guy, the beard is okay; if you don’t like the guy, the smallest mustache is disgusting.
Sorry – I can’t be serious all the time.
