aerial
I dream of popping out of an airplane to film it in the clouds, which are soaked in a deep orange sunset.
delicate
Her apartment is filled with light and has a fragile quality. She moves as if she's afraid to touch anything. A picture frame on the gleaming piano or the small blue vase on the coffee table can shatter easily.
dementia
She's convinced her 3-year-old grandson is at the synagogue. She keeps asking people if they've seen him. He must have run off somewhere. It doesn't matter that her nurse and some of the congregants gently explain that he isn't there – that the boy she's thinking of is an adult and not in town. She's certain he's run away and gotten lost. She insists that people look for him.
kavanah (כַּוָּנָה)
I feel pierced by the urgency of the prayers, and the melodies, and the moving, sobbing, joyful, singing voices.
numeracy
The middle-aged man who shares the elevator with me sees that I'm going to the seventh floor. "Seven's a lucky number," he says. "Hopefully," I say. To which he replies, "It's a prime number." So I point to his destination. "That's a multiple of seven," I say, because he's heading to floor 28. "So it is!" he replies.
swooping
That evening, there's a large moth in the synagogue. Mostly it hops and skips among the lights. Sometimes it dive-bombs people.
well-meaning
"They try to be so helpful," she says, sorting through the holiday care package, "but as a pre-diabetic, I can't eat a lot of the food here."
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Week in Seven Words #433
ambiguous
On hearing the announcement of her retirement, he isn't sure whether to clap. Would clapping come across as congratulatory, or would it reveal what he really thinks?
beckoning
Dancers in costume have drawn people under the tents, in a pause for music, shared enjoyment, the sense of being part of a larger culture, and a reminder that they're not always locked into the pace of work and errands.
magnificent
The window at the historic synagogue is a giant disc of shimmering blue.
peckish
A robin with a worm twitching in its beak waits to see what else we'll uncover when we pull out the next weed.
refreshes
Leaves are layered, green and purple, in the lamplight. After a day of rain, the air is moist and cool.
retreating
A small, quiet square, a bench, and a flowering tree.
sought
I have a poignant dream of her in which she's younger and in better health. I spot her across a city street at night. Soon after, we're on a train on a gray day, and she's heading for the house of one of her grandsons. She has an older address, one he's moved away from, but insists it's the one she wants to go to.
On hearing the announcement of her retirement, he isn't sure whether to clap. Would clapping come across as congratulatory, or would it reveal what he really thinks?
beckoning
Dancers in costume have drawn people under the tents, in a pause for music, shared enjoyment, the sense of being part of a larger culture, and a reminder that they're not always locked into the pace of work and errands.
magnificent
The window at the historic synagogue is a giant disc of shimmering blue.
peckish
A robin with a worm twitching in its beak waits to see what else we'll uncover when we pull out the next weed.
refreshes
Leaves are layered, green and purple, in the lamplight. After a day of rain, the air is moist and cool.
retreating
A small, quiet square, a bench, and a flowering tree.
sought
I have a poignant dream of her in which she's younger and in better health. I spot her across a city street at night. Soon after, we're on a train on a gray day, and she's heading for the house of one of her grandsons. She has an older address, one he's moved away from, but insists it's the one she wants to go to.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Week in Seven Words #380
dreaming
I'm in Brooklyn somewhere, after a late dinner, and every subway station I go to is closed, the stairways to the tracks boarded up. I wander out to a boardwalk overlooking an ocean. I can see the moon not by looking at the sky but by looking through the dark, transparent ocean. The moon is glowing through the water. It's enormous.
impediments
The conversation deteriorates into peevish muttering. Again, no progress towards a solution or even an understanding.
intimate
In a crowded, noisy room, they find a window seat tucked behind curtains, where they press up against each other and whisper.
irritants
During the meal, he scrolls through headlines on his phone. He rarely reads the articles. Only headlines, which make him feel vindicated sometimes but angry mostly.
satisfied
After the party, they fall into a couple of chairs and kick off their heels. The table is covered in used glasses and liquor bottles filled to different levels. They pour drinks and clink their glasses, which probably aren't clean, in a wordless toast to a night well-spent.
soles
She walks barefoot to feel the rasp of the stone on her feet.
touching
She slips an invitation under my door. It's for a dinner, a few weeks from now.
I'm in Brooklyn somewhere, after a late dinner, and every subway station I go to is closed, the stairways to the tracks boarded up. I wander out to a boardwalk overlooking an ocean. I can see the moon not by looking at the sky but by looking through the dark, transparent ocean. The moon is glowing through the water. It's enormous.
impediments
The conversation deteriorates into peevish muttering. Again, no progress towards a solution or even an understanding.
intimate
In a crowded, noisy room, they find a window seat tucked behind curtains, where they press up against each other and whisper.
irritants
During the meal, he scrolls through headlines on his phone. He rarely reads the articles. Only headlines, which make him feel vindicated sometimes but angry mostly.
satisfied
After the party, they fall into a couple of chairs and kick off their heels. The table is covered in used glasses and liquor bottles filled to different levels. They pour drinks and clink their glasses, which probably aren't clean, in a wordless toast to a night well-spent.
soles
She walks barefoot to feel the rasp of the stone on her feet.
touching
She slips an invitation under my door. It's for a dinner, a few weeks from now.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Week in Seven Words #379
puncturing
Canceled plans give the weekend a deflated feeling.
runner-up
The fat trophy on his desk, the one I can imagine filled with mead, is a trophy he made for himself, celebrating something athletic (the inscription is small).
sullying
When he makes a nasty comment, it's similar to how he might squat and defecate in public and look you in the eye while doing it. Even if you turn away, you're left with the image of him exulting over his excrement.
supporting
She has another nightmare, but this time she also has someone's hand on her shoulder, comforting her.
trustworthy
She likes affection, but what she values more is trust. Let them give her the keys to a car or house, the permission to plan a wedding or offer investment advice, and she'll be happy.
twinned
One of them is enthusiastic about life and wants to learn more about it; he'll open his window and take pleasure in a tree branch, crooked like an elbow. The other one, who is roughly the same age, keeps the windows shuttered and rarely opens the door, but acts as if she knows exactly what's going on in the world.
worrisome
It isn't a good idea for her to read true crime novels, just like it wasn't a good idea for her to look through WebMD for hours. Now she'll think someone is going to brain her with a statue, possibly because she has rabies.
Canceled plans give the weekend a deflated feeling.
runner-up
The fat trophy on his desk, the one I can imagine filled with mead, is a trophy he made for himself, celebrating something athletic (the inscription is small).
sullying
When he makes a nasty comment, it's similar to how he might squat and defecate in public and look you in the eye while doing it. Even if you turn away, you're left with the image of him exulting over his excrement.
supporting
She has another nightmare, but this time she also has someone's hand on her shoulder, comforting her.
trustworthy
She likes affection, but what she values more is trust. Let them give her the keys to a car or house, the permission to plan a wedding or offer investment advice, and she'll be happy.
twinned
One of them is enthusiastic about life and wants to learn more about it; he'll open his window and take pleasure in a tree branch, crooked like an elbow. The other one, who is roughly the same age, keeps the windows shuttered and rarely opens the door, but acts as if she knows exactly what's going on in the world.
worrisome
It isn't a good idea for her to read true crime novels, just like it wasn't a good idea for her to look through WebMD for hours. Now she'll think someone is going to brain her with a statue, possibly because she has rabies.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Week in Seven Words #327
circumfluous
During the blackout, we're both downstairs, and the only ones awake in the house. We move as if we're underwater. The candlelight wavers against the cabinets.
claims
Suddenly, there's a dog on my lap. She gives me a look - "You got anything to say about that?" - then inspects the room from her new vantage point.
puffed
On a walk through a cold drizzle, we enter a street full of mansions. They seem like inflated bouncy castles, mushrooming from the dark green lawns.
surfaces
He's easygoing when he's awake, says there's no need to worry about things. I find out he has nightmares. ("Call the police!" he urges in his sleep.)
survey
Every room is tidy and lovely. I pause in each, anticipating the days of rest.
tart
This is the weekend of pie. One richly lemon, the other rhubarb and apple. Leave me the filling and a fork, and I'm good.
zookeeping
I help him build a giant zoo with blocks and plastic fences to make the pens. It's intricate and cramped. He has elaborate reasons for why different animals should be corralled together. Under his supervision, they wouldn't dare attack each other.
During the blackout, we're both downstairs, and the only ones awake in the house. We move as if we're underwater. The candlelight wavers against the cabinets.
claims
Suddenly, there's a dog on my lap. She gives me a look - "You got anything to say about that?" - then inspects the room from her new vantage point.
puffed
On a walk through a cold drizzle, we enter a street full of mansions. They seem like inflated bouncy castles, mushrooming from the dark green lawns.
surfaces
He's easygoing when he's awake, says there's no need to worry about things. I find out he has nightmares. ("Call the police!" he urges in his sleep.)
survey
Every room is tidy and lovely. I pause in each, anticipating the days of rest.
tart
This is the weekend of pie. One richly lemon, the other rhubarb and apple. Leave me the filling and a fork, and I'm good.
zookeeping
I help him build a giant zoo with blocks and plastic fences to make the pens. It's intricate and cramped. He has elaborate reasons for why different animals should be corralled together. Under his supervision, they wouldn't dare attack each other.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Week in Seven Words #310
carving
The wind slashes at us all the way up the hill.
enfolding
She lingers in her daydream. Its air smells like a bakery, and its streets are cobblestone. Roses burst from a breach in the wooden fence around her Queen Anne house.
patchiness
Sidewalks held together with cement, gum, and mashed litter.
restless
It's a rumbly night with noises from parts unknown.
rosiness
Receive an email from her. Attached, a selfie with our faces wreathed in hearts.
run-of-the-mill
A movie stitched together from nostalgic moments, explosions, and characters who arrive with pre-packaged, top-level abilities. Dressed conveniently in white for good, black for bad.
ungrammatically
An academic article, written as if each sentence was held to a fire and partially melted.
The wind slashes at us all the way up the hill.
enfolding
She lingers in her daydream. Its air smells like a bakery, and its streets are cobblestone. Roses burst from a breach in the wooden fence around her Queen Anne house.
patchiness
Sidewalks held together with cement, gum, and mashed litter.
restless
It's a rumbly night with noises from parts unknown.
rosiness
Receive an email from her. Attached, a selfie with our faces wreathed in hearts.
run-of-the-mill
A movie stitched together from nostalgic moments, explosions, and characters who arrive with pre-packaged, top-level abilities. Dressed conveniently in white for good, black for bad.
ungrammatically
An academic article, written as if each sentence was held to a fire and partially melted.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Week in Seven Words #287
arcana
He's hunched in the shadows with a book spread open on his palm. It's only a textbook, but he looks like a conjurer.
belying
"I love my job," he says, with a dejected expression.
enliven
They've turned the broken corners of the porch into a garden. Missing boards are where flowers nestle now. Plants obscure the splintered railings. A rainbow windsock trails against the chipped paint.
flora
Beneath the stains of black mold, there's a pattern of flowers. On each colorful tile, a different flower: foxglove, pansy, rose.
ingestion
The blue-gray water and settling clouds swallow the sun.
objective
What do you want to be when you grow up? "A nice man," he says. "I'm going to be a very nice man."
willfully
One of her ways of trying to get me to change is to say, "No, you can't be like this." Maybe if she waves her hands in a complicated pattern, the spell will take effect.
He's hunched in the shadows with a book spread open on his palm. It's only a textbook, but he looks like a conjurer.
belying
"I love my job," he says, with a dejected expression.
enliven
They've turned the broken corners of the porch into a garden. Missing boards are where flowers nestle now. Plants obscure the splintered railings. A rainbow windsock trails against the chipped paint.
flora
Beneath the stains of black mold, there's a pattern of flowers. On each colorful tile, a different flower: foxglove, pansy, rose.
ingestion
The blue-gray water and settling clouds swallow the sun.
objective
What do you want to be when you grow up? "A nice man," he says. "I'm going to be a very nice man."
willfully
One of her ways of trying to get me to change is to say, "No, you can't be like this." Maybe if she waves her hands in a complicated pattern, the spell will take effect.
Friday, October 16, 2015
Week in Seven Words #265
aloofly
Silver branches with buds that bide their time.
dereliction
The plum-colored house overlooks an abandoned lot. Papers, cigarette stubs, and glass have piled up on the front steps. Among the weeds along the base of the house - the blur of rodents bolting for cover. The French doors are open by a hair.
errantry
I need to be careful, when helping her, to consider my motives and make sure I'm not playing the part of knight errant.
jack-in-the-box
Suddenly the window pops open, and he thrusts half his body out and waves and whistles.
tedium
The statue stares at copper-colored pavement, a bicycle rack, a man and woman arguing about a mutual friend.
utopian
He dreams of living on a farm. He doesn't know anything about farm life, but he wants to live on one. The city makes him feel like less of a person; he imagines that on a farm, he'll feel like he's made of flesh and not frayed wires. He'll be surrounded by earth and growing plants. He'll rise at dawn and commit himself to bed at dusk. This is his dream of farm life.
venous
The dry vines on the building look like veins on the back of a hand.
Silver branches with buds that bide their time.
dereliction
The plum-colored house overlooks an abandoned lot. Papers, cigarette stubs, and glass have piled up on the front steps. Among the weeds along the base of the house - the blur of rodents bolting for cover. The French doors are open by a hair.
errantry
I need to be careful, when helping her, to consider my motives and make sure I'm not playing the part of knight errant.
jack-in-the-box
Suddenly the window pops open, and he thrusts half his body out and waves and whistles.
tedium
The statue stares at copper-colored pavement, a bicycle rack, a man and woman arguing about a mutual friend.
utopian
He dreams of living on a farm. He doesn't know anything about farm life, but he wants to live on one. The city makes him feel like less of a person; he imagines that on a farm, he'll feel like he's made of flesh and not frayed wires. He'll be surrounded by earth and growing plants. He'll rise at dawn and commit himself to bed at dusk. This is his dream of farm life.
venous
The dry vines on the building look like veins on the back of a hand.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
The dancing isn't the best thing about Dancing Lady (1933) and Dance, Girl, Dance (1940)
Older Hollywood movies often called on actors to display singing and dancing talent (and the movie industry actively recruited people from musical theater and vaudeville). Many of these movies are set in Hollywood's conception of a Broadway theater. And they can be pretty uneven, with weak plots strung around musical numbers that vary in quality.
The following two movies are uneven, but I still liked them for various reasons, including the fact that they're sometimes ridiculous. They're both theater stories, specifically stories of women trying to make it big in musical shows. Neither of them has amazing dance scenes.
(A movie I highly recommend, better than either of these and more witty, is Stage Door, which I wrote about here. It's also a much better choice if you want a non-musical drama and comedy; there are some brief scenes of dancing, but no musical numbers.)
The following two movies are uneven, but I still liked them for various reasons, including the fact that they're sometimes ridiculous. They're both theater stories, specifically stories of women trying to make it big in musical shows. Neither of them has amazing dance scenes.
(A movie I highly recommend, better than either of these and more witty, is Stage Door, which I wrote about here. It's also a much better choice if you want a non-musical drama and comedy; there are some brief scenes of dancing, but no musical numbers.)
Monday, May 19, 2014
Week in Seven Words #214 & 215
214
encrusted
Thoughts of taxes are like barnacles I want to scrape off of my brain.
fancies
One of those wild days when we talk about ideas for hours. I feel closest to him then.
overbooked
He trudges along in his karate uniform, with a violin in one hand and a tennis racket slung over his shoulder.
parts
I'm an ear, and she's a mouth.
price
Having a ready-made role to step into can be a relief, but what are you sacrificing for the extra comfort?
quailing
Their arrogance keeps them from confronting the fears that have hollowed them out.
yoked
This is the arrangement they've come up with: He's cut down on his leisure time, and she's compromised her dignity.
215
blank
For years, he hasn't dared to dream about anything.
chemistry
There are fascinating stories behind each element on the table.
dainties
Three small identical dogs, leashed to a bike rack, peer into the bakery that promises so many treats.
microscopic
Toddlers want to go at their own pace, examining sidewalk cracks and clods of dirt, and not just be tugged along all the time.
secure
Throwing pebbles, a child tries to knock birds out of a tree. Some twigs crackle, but the birds stick around.
unwasteful
With his finger, chasing the last of the whipped cream in the paper cup.
wavering
He continues to tip his chair back, frightened but excited about the moment of reckoning: a mastery of balance or a humiliating fall.
encrusted
Thoughts of taxes are like barnacles I want to scrape off of my brain.
fancies
One of those wild days when we talk about ideas for hours. I feel closest to him then.
overbooked
He trudges along in his karate uniform, with a violin in one hand and a tennis racket slung over his shoulder.
parts
I'm an ear, and she's a mouth.
price
Having a ready-made role to step into can be a relief, but what are you sacrificing for the extra comfort?
quailing
Their arrogance keeps them from confronting the fears that have hollowed them out.
yoked
This is the arrangement they've come up with: He's cut down on his leisure time, and she's compromised her dignity.
215
blank
For years, he hasn't dared to dream about anything.
chemistry
There are fascinating stories behind each element on the table.
dainties
Three small identical dogs, leashed to a bike rack, peer into the bakery that promises so many treats.
microscopic
Toddlers want to go at their own pace, examining sidewalk cracks and clods of dirt, and not just be tugged along all the time.
secure
Throwing pebbles, a child tries to knock birds out of a tree. Some twigs crackle, but the birds stick around.
unwasteful
With his finger, chasing the last of the whipped cream in the paper cup.
wavering
He continues to tip his chair back, frightened but excited about the moment of reckoning: a mastery of balance or a humiliating fall.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Week in Seven Words #200 and #201
#200
counterpoise
The closeness to others is beautiful, as is the possibility of finding space to be on your own when you need it.
fantastic
Their Lego city is imaginative. Castles, modified Hobbit homes, and modern shopping plazas with headless mannequins, all on the same street. City residents get around on zip lines and in horse-drawn carriages. Nothing has developed in exact accordance with the instructions in each Lego box.
keep
A laden table, a lawn in the dark, lights at the window.
plotting
I hope she doesn't lose her desire to fill up notebook pages with characters and ideas.
springy
Tigger, bouncing around the Hundred Acre Wood, entrances him. As we watch, he turns to me with a slow smile, pleased to see that I'm also enjoying his favorite cartoon character.
unwind
When she finds someone who listens, she talks until she's breathless - thoughts, dreams, books read, plans for the coming days and weeks.
unyielding
I'm not surprised that she doesn't try one of the burgers; maybe it would be too much of a concession.
counterpoise
The closeness to others is beautiful, as is the possibility of finding space to be on your own when you need it.
fantastic
Their Lego city is imaginative. Castles, modified Hobbit homes, and modern shopping plazas with headless mannequins, all on the same street. City residents get around on zip lines and in horse-drawn carriages. Nothing has developed in exact accordance with the instructions in each Lego box.
keep
A laden table, a lawn in the dark, lights at the window.
plotting
I hope she doesn't lose her desire to fill up notebook pages with characters and ideas.
springy
Tigger, bouncing around the Hundred Acre Wood, entrances him. As we watch, he turns to me with a slow smile, pleased to see that I'm also enjoying his favorite cartoon character.
unwind
When she finds someone who listens, she talks until she's breathless - thoughts, dreams, books read, plans for the coming days and weeks.
unyielding
I'm not surprised that she doesn't try one of the burgers; maybe it would be too much of a concession.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Week in Seven Words #183
bromidic
I sit through an episode of an awful TV show. It's only bearable when watched with people who can laugh with you at how bad it is. It hits me yet again that I've lost a lot of patience for TV; I know there are good shows out there, I just rarely turn on the TV and bother to look.
dreamt
Green eyes, bony limbs, the grace of a cat. She's a creature made for shadows.
harmonious
A spray of white roses against brownstone. A yellow window framing bookshelves and a burgundy couch.
preternatural
A cat, arching and yowling in the mouth of a dark alley at something it can see but we cannot.
procyonid
Raccoons paddle around in the shallows of the urban lake. They forage among the weeds and rocks. From the bridge, some people throw bread crusts and chips. A large, bold raccoon brushes aside these offerings and scampers closer, looking up, maybe waiting for something more substantial to fall from human hands. What would happen if he were to climb up on the bridge?
stifled
Maybe in holding my feelings back, I'm giving them too little opportunity to grow. Maybe they should learn, however painful it is for them, that I'm not who they'd like me to be and that they'll have to deal with that.
trammel
He mutters to himself and jingles the keys in his hands. He's given small but important tasks, so that he'll always feel a part of the community. But sometimes he goes to the end of the street and looks across it, not as if he's seeing only the buildings on the other side but what's beyond. He knows that he could have been more, were it not for the unsolvable problems of his brain.
I sit through an episode of an awful TV show. It's only bearable when watched with people who can laugh with you at how bad it is. It hits me yet again that I've lost a lot of patience for TV; I know there are good shows out there, I just rarely turn on the TV and bother to look.
dreamt
Green eyes, bony limbs, the grace of a cat. She's a creature made for shadows.
harmonious
A spray of white roses against brownstone. A yellow window framing bookshelves and a burgundy couch.
preternatural
A cat, arching and yowling in the mouth of a dark alley at something it can see but we cannot.
procyonid
Raccoons paddle around in the shallows of the urban lake. They forage among the weeds and rocks. From the bridge, some people throw bread crusts and chips. A large, bold raccoon brushes aside these offerings and scampers closer, looking up, maybe waiting for something more substantial to fall from human hands. What would happen if he were to climb up on the bridge?
stifled
Maybe in holding my feelings back, I'm giving them too little opportunity to grow. Maybe they should learn, however painful it is for them, that I'm not who they'd like me to be and that they'll have to deal with that.
trammel
He mutters to himself and jingles the keys in his hands. He's given small but important tasks, so that he'll always feel a part of the community. But sometimes he goes to the end of the street and looks across it, not as if he's seeing only the buildings on the other side but what's beyond. He knows that he could have been more, were it not for the unsolvable problems of his brain.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Worth Watching: Stage Door (1937)
Title: Stage Door
Director: Gregory La Cava
Language: English
Rating: Unrated
I had a feeling I'd like this movie, and I was right.
Much of it is set in The Footlights Club, a boarding-house for aspiring actresses and other stage performers trying to make it big (or at least find work) in New York City. Jean Maitland (Ginger Rogers) is a smart-alecky blonde who butts heads with her new roommate, Terry Randall (Katharine Hepburn), a bright Midwesterner who seems to have an enviable amount of money and more booksmarts than real experience. Linda Shaw (Gail Patrick) is enjoying jewels, furs, and fine dining paid for by her sugar daddy, while Kay Hamilton (Andrea Leeds) has failed to find any new work after she made her successful debut on the stage a year earlier. The other boarding house inmates - played by the likes of Lucille Ball, Eve Arden, Constance Collier, and Ann Miller – keep each other's spirits up by hanging out together and cracking jokes.
Director: Gregory La Cava
Language: English
Rating: Unrated
I had a feeling I'd like this movie, and I was right.
Much of it is set in The Footlights Club, a boarding-house for aspiring actresses and other stage performers trying to make it big (or at least find work) in New York City. Jean Maitland (Ginger Rogers) is a smart-alecky blonde who butts heads with her new roommate, Terry Randall (Katharine Hepburn), a bright Midwesterner who seems to have an enviable amount of money and more booksmarts than real experience. Linda Shaw (Gail Patrick) is enjoying jewels, furs, and fine dining paid for by her sugar daddy, while Kay Hamilton (Andrea Leeds) has failed to find any new work after she made her successful debut on the stage a year earlier. The other boarding house inmates - played by the likes of Lucille Ball, Eve Arden, Constance Collier, and Ann Miller – keep each other's spirits up by hanging out together and cracking jokes.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Extracts: A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry
Don't you see there isn't any real progress... there is only one large circle that we march in, around and around, each of us with our own little picture in front of us - our own little mirage that we think is the future.
A Raisin in the Sun is a wonderful play, one of the best I've read in a while. Lorraine Hansberry shows how people define themselves and strive for their dreams; in progressing towards what they hope will be a better life, they discover new sources of strength in themselves but also risk self-destruction and undermining others. The play ends on a mix of good spirits and foreboding; the Younger family haven't had it easy up until that point, and they have frightening circumstances to deal with in the future, but they're still alive, fighting with one other and against the world.
Meet the Youngers
The Youngers are a black family living in Chicago's South Side in the years after World War II. The patriarch of the family, Big Walter, has passed away, and his material legacy is an insurance check worth 10,000 dollars - a boon to his family, who have long wanted to get out of their airless, lightless hole of an apartment.
There are six of them: Lena (Mama), Big Walter's widow and the matriarch of the family; their adult children, Walter Lee and Beneatha; and Walter Lee's wife, Ruth, and son, Travis.
Walter Lee is a chauffeur, and both Lena and Ruth work as domestic servants, cooking and cleaning in white people's homes. Unlike Walter Lee, it's apparent that Lena and Ruth don't stop working when they get home; with some help from Beneatha, they take care of all the chores in their apartment, while Walter Lee spends time with his friends, shooting the breeze and cooking up grand business schemes. Beneatha (who at a low point in the play speaks the words excerpted at the start of the post) is a college student, a first for her family. In the course of the play she's also wooed by two very different men - George Murchison and Joseph Asagai - each representing a certain kind of future for her, should she choose one of them.
Dreams deferred, denied, or achieved
Everyone in the Younger family has a dream they want to realize. For Beneatha it's becoming a doctor, and for Walter Lee it's running his own business as a bigshot executive. Lena's primary goal is to move to a real house, something Ruth longs for as well. The only affordable neighborhood within an easy distance of their workplaces in the city is a suburb where only white families live.
Personal flaws and family tension could keep their dreams from materializing. Hansberry might have gone the route of having the family be on the same page, united by the same beliefs and outlook as they fight for a better life, but instead she wrote them as messy and real. Walter Lee fights a good deal with his sister about the man she should marry, and with Lena about what to do with the 10,000 dollars; he wants a chance to be his own boss, and if Beneath got to go to college, why can't he have his opportunity to develop himself?
Walter Lee and Ruth's marriage also goes through a lot of strain. Ruth doesn't have Beneatha's booksmarts or Lena's central position in the family, but it's a testament to Hansberry's writing skills that instead of being a sidelined two-dimensional figure she's distinct, given good lines, a dry wit and a complex character, and made to confront her own difficult choices. As for Lena, she looks at her kids with love and pride and, at times, incomprehension. Of those in the younger generation, Ruth (the aptly named daughter-in-law), is the only one who consistently connects with her.
On top of all the intrafamilial conflict, there are people in their community who would resent their move to a better home, taking it as a sign that the Younger family doesn't know "their place." The one neighbor we do see, Mrs. Johnson, is a riot - a funny portrait of a woman who tries to pass off her nosiness and envy as sincere concern. There are also other people in their community who would more actively undermine their attempts to realize their dream.
And finally there's the all-white neighborhood they want to move to. The neighborhood association sends a representative to try to dissuade them from coming to live there; in a morbidly funny moment, Beneatha refers to him as the "Welcoming Committee," a joke taken up by Ruth and Walter Lee:
Mama: What he want?Lorraine Hansberry's own parents fought racial residential segregation in the northern U.S. (read about the Supreme Court Case, Hansberry vs. Lee) and she knew first hand how violent the situation could get, with black families getting fire-bombed out of their homes, attacked by mobs, and worse.
Ruth: (In the same mood as Beneath and Walter) To welcome you, honey.
Walter: He said they can't hardly wait. He said the one thing they don't have, that they just dying to have out there, is a fine family of fine colored people!
What is progress?
Returning to the excerpt at the top of the post - is progress an illusion? It's fitting that Beneatha makes this pessimistic pronouncement, as someone who's still figuring out her identity.
On the one hand she's the first college-educated person in her family and wants to be a doctor. But if she marries could she still pursue a career in medicine? (Her brother is leaning on her to marry George Murchison, who would be least likely to support her career.) So what is her identity, her role in the family and society at large, meant to be? And what options are available to her as a black woman who wants to go into medicine? She isn't expected to take charge of her family; for better or worse, Lena comes to expect that of Walter Lee, not necessarily because he has good judgment but because he's the man of the house. With her education and career aspirations Beneatha finds herself in an unprecedented position in her family.
Across the generations, the Younger family has progressed out of slavery, then out of the South, to live in their own apartment and to send one family member to college. Even when the "Welcoming Committee" representative from the white neighborhood comes to speak with them, he doesn't threaten them outright, as Beneatha puts it:
Oh - Mama - they don't do it like that any more. He talked Brotherhood. He said everybody ought to learn how to sit down and hate each other with good Christian fellowship.Progress seems to work uphill, with backsliding and resistance for every bit of ground gained. The newer generations - Walter Lee and Beneatha - are building off of the sacrifices of their parents and forebears in different ways, while also fighting certain battles all over again: not what previous generations fought against - not slavery and not the southern Ku Klux Klan specifically - but against similar forces, in new shapes and forms. They also fight to understand who they are and where they belong in society, and to understand how the legacy of their parents and ancestors affects them; they absorb it, honor it, chafe against it, turn to it sometimes for guidance and mock or ignore it otherwise. The sum total of Big Walter's legacy - along with what Lena has imparted to her kids - is more than 10,000 dollars.
Any push for progress requires risk. Sometimes the desire for a better life is so consuming that it blinds people to potential dangers as they work impatiently towards it. Then again, focusing too much on the dangers keeps people where they are, relatively safe but also miserable and diminished.
Why haven't we seen more of Hansberry?
In addition to being very active in the Civil Rights movement, Lorraine Hansberry made history in theater with A Raisin in the Sun, becoming the youngest American playwright to win the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play. Tragically her life was cut short, at age 34, by pancreatic cancer.
-------------
I read The Modern Library edition of A Raisin in the Sun; it's also the first work I'm writing up for the Classics Club Challenge (you can find the link to the challenge post in the Reading Lists tab at the top of the page as well).
Monday, June 13, 2011
Week in Seven Words #71
apathy
I get the feeling that we both don't want to be there. He's tuned out, so am I, and mostly we're going through the motions. I try to care but only feel tired.
forelimbs
Silhouetted against a glass door, he offers up a four-armed embrace. Or maybe he's just sweeping his arms open wide as if to say, "Look around! Walk the crazy corridors of my mind." He's asymmetrical; on one side of his body he has one arm, on the other side three. He's also completely nude.
mosaic
Wide-eyed in Isaiah Zagar's Magic Gardens: a small dense maze of mosaic faces, walls of bottles, bicycles, and random statuary, lettered tiles, colored tiles, flowers and lively figurines, stairs that spill down into lemon, pink and emerald grottos. My reflection is a starburst on mirror shards.
murals
It's been recommended to me to take a walking tour of the Philadelphia murals, but so far I've resisted. I like coming across them by chance. Turning a corner I face a small parking lot bound by chain link fencing, and above it blooms a beautiful mural of dancers, magicians, and enchanted flute players.
prose
Long and languid afternoons spent reading.
reflective
Night, lamplight, a text open on my lap.
yearning
For dreams half-tended and hopes half-fed.
I get the feeling that we both don't want to be there. He's tuned out, so am I, and mostly we're going through the motions. I try to care but only feel tired.
forelimbs
Silhouetted against a glass door, he offers up a four-armed embrace. Or maybe he's just sweeping his arms open wide as if to say, "Look around! Walk the crazy corridors of my mind." He's asymmetrical; on one side of his body he has one arm, on the other side three. He's also completely nude.
mosaic
Wide-eyed in Isaiah Zagar's Magic Gardens: a small dense maze of mosaic faces, walls of bottles, bicycles, and random statuary, lettered tiles, colored tiles, flowers and lively figurines, stairs that spill down into lemon, pink and emerald grottos. My reflection is a starburst on mirror shards.
murals
It's been recommended to me to take a walking tour of the Philadelphia murals, but so far I've resisted. I like coming across them by chance. Turning a corner I face a small parking lot bound by chain link fencing, and above it blooms a beautiful mural of dancers, magicians, and enchanted flute players.
prose
Long and languid afternoons spent reading.
reflective
Night, lamplight, a text open on my lap.
yearning
For dreams half-tended and hopes half-fed.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Week in Seven Words #58
anywhere
Via gmail chat, a discussion of the 33rd psalm.
camouflage
She laughs so merrily, so uncontrollably, that you can almost forget that she's hurt.
inexorable
The hour comes. Time to put the books away.
kibble
In a bookstore cafe, against a backdrop of music and the grinding of a blender, two people argue over what makes good poetry. At a few points throughout they state the importance of taste and personal inclination, even as they dig beneath each other's feet for something else.
prognosis
A crushed dreamcatcher lies at the foot of a short flight of steps leading to a drug research and rehab clinic; the net and feathers are crumpled.
provider
Just as we think she's finished unpacking the food from the suitcase, she remembers a side pocket full of chocolatey treats.
ulnar
Streams of hot cold pain run up and down my arm, shimmering in my fingers, pooling at my elbow.
Via gmail chat, a discussion of the 33rd psalm.
camouflage
She laughs so merrily, so uncontrollably, that you can almost forget that she's hurt.
inexorable
The hour comes. Time to put the books away.
kibble
In a bookstore cafe, against a backdrop of music and the grinding of a blender, two people argue over what makes good poetry. At a few points throughout they state the importance of taste and personal inclination, even as they dig beneath each other's feet for something else.
prognosis
A crushed dreamcatcher lies at the foot of a short flight of steps leading to a drug research and rehab clinic; the net and feathers are crumpled.
provider
Just as we think she's finished unpacking the food from the suitcase, she remembers a side pocket full of chocolatey treats.
ulnar
Streams of hot cold pain run up and down my arm, shimmering in my fingers, pooling at my elbow.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Week in Seven Words #57
galvanic
Jerked out of sleep early morning by the thought of how much I need to get done in less than two months.
mirrored
Reflecting on someone else's behavior I suddenly get insights into my own.
tweaking
Her teasing has enough truth, humor and kindness that I dissolve in laughter.
twinkling
The rain twinkles in deep black puddles; the raindrops hit the water in starbursts.
utter
Each word is a pearl or a drop of poison.
wail
A man cries out in grief, in a corridor that's usually full of greetings and loud conversation.
willing
When people tell me their plans their eyes are intense, their words intent; they think that if their description is sufficiently detailed, they'll find themselves in their desired reality, their dreams concrete. For a moment their words allow them to inhabit that reality and step into the shoes of their ideal future self.
Jerked out of sleep early morning by the thought of how much I need to get done in less than two months.
mirrored
Reflecting on someone else's behavior I suddenly get insights into my own.
tweaking
Her teasing has enough truth, humor and kindness that I dissolve in laughter.
twinkling
The rain twinkles in deep black puddles; the raindrops hit the water in starbursts.
utter
Each word is a pearl or a drop of poison.
wail
A man cries out in grief, in a corridor that's usually full of greetings and loud conversation.
willing
When people tell me their plans their eyes are intense, their words intent; they think that if their description is sufficiently detailed, they'll find themselves in their desired reality, their dreams concrete. For a moment their words allow them to inhabit that reality and step into the shoes of their ideal future self.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Week in Seven Words #50
conflagration
It takes me a few seconds to register that the sky is full of smoke, a great expanding cloud that thins out with distance, mixing into the mild peach sunset. As I get closer, I see large flames several blocks away, trembling insanely, tall as a house. Later on the news gets out - an apartment building destroyed in a five-alarm fire, thankfully no one killed or hurt. There are however over a hundred people who lost their homes.
imparted
The first time I arrive at the building complex, someone walks me through the corridors, shows me how they're interconnected and which staircases I should use to get to the third floor. The next day as I arrive, someone asks me for directions, and it's my turn to be the helpful guide.
reticent
She wishes I would confide in her more, but there are reasons I don't. I tell her little things, here and there, some offerings of opinion and thought, occasionally a deep feeling, but nothing that would make me too vulnerable.
roughhew
He doesn't seem comfortable with public speaking. This is hardly his first time in front of a crowd, and he does just fine, but there's only so much of himself that he can master - he can't help the flushed cheeks, the hands that tremble slightly, the voice that stops and starts.
slurry
Gray brown slush, messing over everything, as if the sidewalk has spit up and forgotten to pat its mouth clean.
tenacity
I don't want to be resigned, to walk a rut because that's the most comfortable way. I say this not because I'm one hundred percent certain I won't betray myself, only because I hope I won't, and I'll work hard not to. There are things I can't compromise on and give up on, not without a sense of crushing sadness.
tracery
I love how the trees are outlined by snow, a crisp network of branches. Each bare limb is traced in white, sharp and elegant.
It takes me a few seconds to register that the sky is full of smoke, a great expanding cloud that thins out with distance, mixing into the mild peach sunset. As I get closer, I see large flames several blocks away, trembling insanely, tall as a house. Later on the news gets out - an apartment building destroyed in a five-alarm fire, thankfully no one killed or hurt. There are however over a hundred people who lost their homes.
imparted
The first time I arrive at the building complex, someone walks me through the corridors, shows me how they're interconnected and which staircases I should use to get to the third floor. The next day as I arrive, someone asks me for directions, and it's my turn to be the helpful guide.
reticent
She wishes I would confide in her more, but there are reasons I don't. I tell her little things, here and there, some offerings of opinion and thought, occasionally a deep feeling, but nothing that would make me too vulnerable.
roughhew
He doesn't seem comfortable with public speaking. This is hardly his first time in front of a crowd, and he does just fine, but there's only so much of himself that he can master - he can't help the flushed cheeks, the hands that tremble slightly, the voice that stops and starts.
slurry
Gray brown slush, messing over everything, as if the sidewalk has spit up and forgotten to pat its mouth clean.
tenacity
I don't want to be resigned, to walk a rut because that's the most comfortable way. I say this not because I'm one hundred percent certain I won't betray myself, only because I hope I won't, and I'll work hard not to. There are things I can't compromise on and give up on, not without a sense of crushing sadness.
tracery
I love how the trees are outlined by snow, a crisp network of branches. Each bare limb is traced in white, sharp and elegant.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Week in Seven Words #42
accommodation
Different people I'm friends with can find it difficult to talk to each other; their approach to life, personality, interests, may not overlap much and so there isn't a lot of common ground for light dinner time discussion, especially if they don't know each other well. I like that they have to work a little harder to make conversation. Sometimes they regard each other speculatively or with bafflement, as if they're assessing species membership; other times they bond briefly over a love of sticky cinnamon kugel.
cataracts
The moon squints through a film of cloud.
delusion
What doesn't get done today will not get done tomorrow but might get done the day after tomorrow.
escapism
When I need a break from work one thing I do is look up bus and train schedules and imagine myself traveling from one town to another. I take my time coming home.
inverted
The roots of the trees swim in gold leaves.
preserving
A young boy, half-shy and half-pleased, gives a little speech in Yiddish. The people at the dinner sing in Yiddish too, and there are echoes of the shtetl in their voices. I've never been to Eastern Europe and did not grow up among Yiddish speakers, but my family's history runs through that part of the world, and there's a bittersweet pain when I think about the way of life systematically wiped out and the way the rich culture still manages to endure.
replete
To step outside and discover that it's just rained, and that after a walk through the cold clean air I'll sit down to a baked apple, golden and brown and smeared with cinnamon.
Different people I'm friends with can find it difficult to talk to each other; their approach to life, personality, interests, may not overlap much and so there isn't a lot of common ground for light dinner time discussion, especially if they don't know each other well. I like that they have to work a little harder to make conversation. Sometimes they regard each other speculatively or with bafflement, as if they're assessing species membership; other times they bond briefly over a love of sticky cinnamon kugel.
cataracts
The moon squints through a film of cloud.
delusion
What doesn't get done today will not get done tomorrow but might get done the day after tomorrow.
escapism
When I need a break from work one thing I do is look up bus and train schedules and imagine myself traveling from one town to another. I take my time coming home.
inverted
The roots of the trees swim in gold leaves.
preserving
A young boy, half-shy and half-pleased, gives a little speech in Yiddish. The people at the dinner sing in Yiddish too, and there are echoes of the shtetl in their voices. I've never been to Eastern Europe and did not grow up among Yiddish speakers, but my family's history runs through that part of the world, and there's a bittersweet pain when I think about the way of life systematically wiped out and the way the rich culture still manages to endure.
replete
To step outside and discover that it's just rained, and that after a walk through the cold clean air I'll sit down to a baked apple, golden and brown and smeared with cinnamon.
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