Hi, my darlings...........I have made yet another unsettling discovery about myself.......sob.
I am nothing but no-good Fair Weather Blogger. (As opposed, for instance, to being a Foul Weather Friend.....my pals know that I may not always be available to them when things are going well for them, but if they stumble into a pot hole or a chasm that is the time they can count on me.)
It seems that I cannot write.....period.....without my sense of humor and, horror of horrors, I seem to have misplaced or lost that most precious item somewhere in the last several months. I have been blaming my resistance to writing on a strange melancholy or some kind of depressed state, but I realized today that the problem is neither of those things. It is simply my skewed view of things that I have lost.
All my life I have been able to see something to giggle about in even the worst situations or at least been able to invent something. For instance, at my cousin Lew's funeral several years ago a bizarre situation arose. My beloved cousin, Rabbi Avi Bruce would not or could not relinquish his belief that it is the duty of the family to fill the grave.......totally. (this may be an acceptable practice while there are a gaggle of strong armed young relations still around, but at this point we have lost all such.) When the prime Mourners, Lew's children and their families, departed after the ceremony along with the non-relatives, that left only a few of us in our 60's thru 70's with the task. Rabbi Avi (nephew) and niece Debra both with bad backs), her hubby, Steve (always willing even if not totally physically able) and cousin Lois (near 80 and losing muscle mightily with each passing second) to do the shoveling......does anyone know how many shovels of earth it takes to fill a grave hole????? .. at least a gazillion, I can tell you.
I pooped out less than half way but those other stalwart, loyal, awesome if bedraggled members of my family finished the whole job while the grave diggers, whose job it really is, loitered around and shuffled their feet in amazement, probably laughing inside and wondering what could be possessing these insane non-union shovellers. As I stood gasping and trying to keep from falling down in exhaustion I must admit that I had to swallow a giggle at the strange spectacle. It was an Edward Gorey moment to perfection. Well, folks, if it were happening today I could never have managed to find that giggle.
(To extend the family weirdness even further, I have to confess that I picked and hid in my pocket a foot sized rock which now resides on my kitchen windowsill with the label "Blumenthal Rock"...........I now feel that my entire family is always with me whenever I chop veggies or do the dishes.)
I must also confess that, now all of a sudden, nothing seems funny anymore and my imagination has failed me at digging out (you should excuse the expression) laughable stuff).
So there is my weakness and my dilemma exposed. If I can't find the funny bits I can't write, hence my absence from Blogland. Hopefully, all is not lost.......I am feeding the plant like crazy by indulging in chocolate at every provocation and I think I feel the stirrings of some new roots of funny-bone developing. Let us all pray (and while you are at it, please pray that my chocolate cure does not result in another 5 lbs.......
The New Yorker covers: August 18, 1975
10 hours ago