COLD MOUNTAIN AND THOUGHTS OF PEGGY
I've just finished watching the movie COLD MOUNTAIN for the umteenth time. It is my all time favorite movie and worth watching for the umteenth time. It barely edges out GONE WITH THE WIND which happened to debut in my birth year.
I like "Cold Mountain" for many reasons, not the least of which, that it's an excellent Civil War story and I love that historical period (Ref. Gone with the Wind).
It also reminds me of my sweet cousin, Peggy, who at this time, is courageously battling a brain tumor. She and I read the book together years before the movie came out. As with many books, we had many long and detailed book discussions via email. We were both excited to learn a movie was forthcoming, wanting to compare book to movie. Who would play Inman? Who would play Ava and Ruby Tews? Would it follow the storyline in the book? We both agreed that we were not disappointed in the choices of actors nor the storyline. In fact, it exceeded our expectations. We both predicted that Renee Zellweger would win an academy award for her part and she did. So, I never watch the movie without thinking of Peggy, her intelligence, her wit, her insight and how much I miss her.
Next, the music is my kind of music. It even contains two songs of an old timey music that I was privileged to sing, growing up. Sacred Harp, "Idumea" and "I'm Going Home". Most exciting, some of the old Sacred Harp singers were invited to the Oscars where they shared the stage with Allison Kraus as she sang the Oscar nominated song, "Scarlet Tide". One of my lifetime regrets, I wasn't there with them. However, later had the opportunity to share the stage with Allison at Fort Worth's Bass Hall on the Great High Mountain tour of the music of both movies, "Cold Mountain" and "O Brother Where Art Thou". It was an unforgettable time and perhaps, my fifteen minutes of fame. I've enjoyed the sound track over and over and somehow, never tire of it.
So, Cold Mountain, is not just a movie for me. It's memories of a great friend/cousin, it's nostalgia of a young girl singing with her family the songs that, even now, touch me somewhere deep in my heart. Music, God's universal language.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
March 23, 2013 (Tribute letter to Randall Cathey from his sister, Kay)
This was a letter I wrote to Randall to be read at his graveside ceremony because I did not think I would be there. It was written some years ago.
Dear Randall,
In the legendary words of Bette Middler, "Did I ever tell you, you're my hero?" You are and were. For lots of reasons.
You suffered a blow in life that would have ended most lives and yet you survived. Not only did you survive butt you learned to adjust and adapt to a life of dependency for your very survival. Many watched as you and Mother rose above the debilitationg injuries to your body and concentrated on your mind and spirit. And you both determined to do it with as much grace and dignity as you could muster. And that was a LOT.
You placed your life in our hands every day in some way. When I think of you riding in the back of the van in your wheelchair or lying down on a gurney, with Mother or I driving all the way to Alabama, East Texas or whereever with such trust that we would get you safely there. I can't imagine me in that same position and having such trust.
I think of you lying helpless in your bed when you heard Daddy fall from a massive heart attack. I know you were a source of great strength for Mother at that time. You rose to the circumstances of Mother's illness and death and were such a comfort and strength to me, too. Then came the time you felt you needed to go to the nursing home. I could hardly bear it, although I knew it was time. I know it took sheer determination to adjust (if one can) to handing your life over to strangers. I will forever feel guilty that I couldn't take care of you until the day you or I died. I beg for yours, Mother's and God's forgiveness. You and Mother were like strong oak trees, uprooted, transported and replanted and yet you continuted to thrive. Many times, I've see you pull yourself up and out of a dark place. You continued to amaze me with your strength of spirit and will. You took Mother's place as my go to prayer warrior for the really tough issues. I always knew if I asked you to pray about something, you would.
When you decided to quit smoking, you did it without a backward glance. Most able bodied men could not have quit cold turkey like you did. I bragged far and wide about this. But it did not diminish my opinion of you when you started back when you entered the nursing home. You had already proved your strength of character to me over and over. So much so, that I went to bat against the governor's executive order to allow you to continue to enjoy that small pleasure. And we won!
So, you are an unlikely hero to the world; but to me, as long as I live or you live, you will be my shining example of courage land strength. A REAL HERO. I love you, Randall.
This was a letter I wrote to Randall to be read at his graveside ceremony because I did not think I would be there. It was written some years ago.
Dear Randall,
In the legendary words of Bette Middler, "Did I ever tell you, you're my hero?" You are and were. For lots of reasons.
You suffered a blow in life that would have ended most lives and yet you survived. Not only did you survive butt you learned to adjust and adapt to a life of dependency for your very survival. Many watched as you and Mother rose above the debilitationg injuries to your body and concentrated on your mind and spirit. And you both determined to do it with as much grace and dignity as you could muster. And that was a LOT.
You placed your life in our hands every day in some way. When I think of you riding in the back of the van in your wheelchair or lying down on a gurney, with Mother or I driving all the way to Alabama, East Texas or whereever with such trust that we would get you safely there. I can't imagine me in that same position and having such trust.
I think of you lying helpless in your bed when you heard Daddy fall from a massive heart attack. I know you were a source of great strength for Mother at that time. You rose to the circumstances of Mother's illness and death and were such a comfort and strength to me, too. Then came the time you felt you needed to go to the nursing home. I could hardly bear it, although I knew it was time. I know it took sheer determination to adjust (if one can) to handing your life over to strangers. I will forever feel guilty that I couldn't take care of you until the day you or I died. I beg for yours, Mother's and God's forgiveness. You and Mother were like strong oak trees, uprooted, transported and replanted and yet you continuted to thrive. Many times, I've see you pull yourself up and out of a dark place. You continued to amaze me with your strength of spirit and will. You took Mother's place as my go to prayer warrior for the really tough issues. I always knew if I asked you to pray about something, you would.
When you decided to quit smoking, you did it without a backward glance. Most able bodied men could not have quit cold turkey like you did. I bragged far and wide about this. But it did not diminish my opinion of you when you started back when you entered the nursing home. You had already proved your strength of character to me over and over. So much so, that I went to bat against the governor's executive order to allow you to continue to enjoy that small pleasure. And we won!
So, you are an unlikely hero to the world; but to me, as long as I live or you live, you will be my shining example of courage land strength. A REAL HERO. I love you, Randall.
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