A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:
The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw. -Havelock Ellis, physician, writer, and social reformer (2 Feb 1859-1939)
It isn’t my thought, it’s Anu Garg’s thought on a.word.a.day, where today's word is Nimrod, one I’ve never used either as hunter or as stupid or as tyrant, and probably won’t. I do like his reference to Martin Hackworth’s essay, Ignoramus, of the Bloviating Type though, and enjoyed Martin’s slam of a politician whose election says far worse about his electorate than it does about him. To open the week of uncommon words, Anu had his own political say this morning too, also well said.
But the Thought For Today and what it brought to mind. I used to say of one of my daughters, she’s perfect. She disliked hearing me say it, but it slipped out now and then anyway to her annoyance, which I never intended. Sometimes I would add that her little imperfections only served to seal her absolute perfection, seeming nonsense that may sound like something Alice would hear from Humpty Dumpty or another Carroll character, but it made perfect sense to me; and I am ratified this morning by Anu Garg’s quotation from Havelock Ellis, which is an exact mirror corollary of my observation of that daughter. She is one and only, it is still true that I wish I had ten of her, and it still desolates me to watch and wave goodbye as she drives away, I love her so.
My reading is All the Light We Cannot See, slowly so it doesn’t finish quickly and so I really get the characters. Over the past weekend, I read Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, also slowly, yet one more time again. It’s filled with wisdom about life, and like Mark’s gospel, every time I read it something new hits me, both from the Stage Manager and from the characters themselves. Not always so much what is said as what is stirred. Maybe I’ll have time in life to read it another half dozen times; if not, no matter really.
Anyway, I don’t notice it happening in nightdreams, but I’m at an age where one of life’s joys is a nap in the middle of the day, and sometimes there are napdreams. They are not daydreams and the napdreams are not necessarily good. One of my napdreams over the weekend stirred Doerr and Wilder and last week’s Auschwitz observation and my memories of childhood and youth as in a mixing bowl, ending with me and Linda in the front seat of a car having a tense conversation about my life’s adventures and dreams. It was rattling, upsetting. Maybe I need to eat milktoast instead of sausage.
As this is sounding more like a diary than a blogpost, I’m done. Busy Monday. Pax, blessings, and be safe.
Tom+ where +Time wanders off eccentric if not downright weird.
No matter: I never read it.