Build a bridge, and get over it

~ nostalgia visits us all at least once a year; tis the night before the night before and the state of dealing with the my 'not always grande' scheme of ‘tings

Yesterday, instead of plunging into ‘Stack #1 of 3’ piles of work, and the never-ending list of to-do things, I slept late and turned on the screen to watch something I’ve heard about but never seen - the bio-pic by Steven Spielberg, The Fabelmans (I found it on Crave) which I recommend for anyone who hasn’t laughed for cried in a while - it will deliver plenty of each for anyone past puberty.

While I doubt that a curiosity to understand all things Spielberg will be the motivation of most watchers, it is more than a metaphor or seasonal touchstone; calling it a holiday movie is a bit like calling Bruce Willis’s Die Hard a Christmas flick in that it is and it isn’t all at the same time.

For me, from now on, I think the Fabelmans will be that for me - an annual reminder; because as I watched it yesterday and aside from the Spielberg family history played out so well (Michelle Williams is outstanding in her performance, btw, and Seth Rogen is more than Canadian content) - it’s plenty of memory and a massive message to self, as my family history plays out in my head like an old black and white flick; filled with the stuff memories are made of: laughter, tears, fears, heartache, heartbreak, and impossible wishes that were never granted by the wish fairy - regrets mixed with joy, happy sadness and glimmers of hope and redemption …

And it’s knowing my family will be watching Die Hard tonight or tomorrow night without me, which is sad for me; not because I have a craving for the movie, but because I have a craving to be with them I can’t fix. Not yet. But I have hope to blend with that sadness.

I’ve found this past week - working insane hours and going down some hopefully productive rabbit holes has a great ingredient that helps in times like this, of being alone and sad, is exhaustion and focus minimize the amount of time available for ceiling-staring, navel-gazing and washing sleep-grit out of eyes. Yes, some tough days which will no doubt continue to be tough for a while longer, or maybe longer than that. There is, in the grande scheme of ‘tings, very little that anyone can control other than our own actions. Yes, the actions of others are a factor too - in how we react to them, but the inactions of others, there is no way of knowing what people don’t feel, what they don’t want, and what they don’t do. No, I’m not mad at anyone beyond myself, but I’m not OK either. Note to self: this will pass, but neither easily nor fast.

As for anything else - at the moment of writing this, I can only exchange this sentiment with all readers of this daily column.

Each day I publish my thoughts - some days that are a message to everyone, sometimes it’s a message to only one, but it’s always a message to someone ~ though some days, it’s only a message to the guy I face in the mirror.

Whatever my mood or yours, this is a time of year for recalling the past year (or many of them), looking forward to the year(s) ahead with hope, faith in ourselves and the realization we cannot expect help from others. It’s not about whether we deserve it or not, whether we love someone or not, because all those love songs and sonnets aren’t worth a pinch of coon-shit if we don’t have someone to sing them with or read them to.

I wish for all children to have a toy they love, to dream of sugar plums etc., to hold on to those beliefs we hold - to not give up on a dream, to not give up on anyone, and most of all, to learn from an early age, to rely on yourself all your life because in the end that is all you can truly count on. The rest is up to other people, and if that leaves you feeling empty - there is only one sure solution: meet more people!

Happy Dec. 23rd to all.

If you are feeling melon-Collie-ish, I suggest you do what was taught to me by a lovely person - Annie from New Jersey, when she said:

Build a bridge, and get over it.

I publish this Musings column daily and post poems, short stories and other ‘plus/+’ content weekly. Many of you enjoy this content for free, and I truly appreciate your readership. Paid subscriptions are modest: $8 monthly (26¢ a day), $72 annually (20¢ a day), or you can donate any amount. Paid subscribers get extra content, but everyone is welcome - your presence matters. But if you haven't yet become a paid subscriber, I'd be grateful if you'd consider it. Thank you for reading Musings, and thanks to Substack for supporting writers like me. Warm regards, Mark

This week’s bonus [Musings+] postings for access by PAID subscribers:

SHORT STORY: coming soon

POEM: coming soon

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This photo is one I found in the Substack ‘stock photos’ inventory quite by accident when I typed in ‘sugar plums’ … this is a place I’ve been, a number of times; it’s an ecologically protected area; it’s on the right side of the road as you drive from Kihei, north past Sugar Beach, on the way to Lahaina. A great place to walk with your thoughts and remember happy times.