Had a blog [No Bric-à-brac Thing], deleted it, continued to comment on other blogs, wanted my old blog back also wanted a new one, didn’t want two so I settled for a new one.
Cache remains for first blog. Tried to link but link looped and wouldn’t bring reader back to blog.
My older brother calls me Maryls. It's his way of combining Mary Louise. He always sticks up for me. My older brother is golden. He was born that way. He's the prodigal son's brother who is almost happier to see his brother return than is his father.
I don't know about original sin, the fall and all of that. :)
But do you remember the scene in Sophie's Choice when the Nazis who were willing to kill both of her kids were willing to spare one if she'd just choose? She protests and she protests and she protests, and then as the Nazis are taking both of them away she blurts out the name of her son.
Of course, she becomes deranged after that because the truth that she loved her son more than her daughter is clearly and evermore undeniable. It wasn't necessarily a matter of choice of boy over girl. What it was a matter of, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was a kind of understanding and connection she'd shared with him that she didn't share with her.
When I was a kid you could say what you wanted about me, and the most effort I’d expend in self-defense would be to ignore you. But, if you said anything about my brother or my family, then the gloves came off and I would set upon mounting a perfectly vicious defense.
Don’t mess with the Little Platoon.
It's a new year and so I lift my glass of beer to la Luna di Gennaio, and il Sol di Maggio, and clear light and cool, crisp air.
No comments:
Post a Comment