I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Tag: meryl streep

  • Mama Mia, ABBA made me a Dancing Queen

    Mama Mia, ABBA made me a Dancing Queen


    Dancing Queen? Just kidding. Anyone who has seen me on a dance floor from the time my mother tried to teach me how to rock n roll with Dick Clark and American Bandstand after school in the living room of our home in Richards, Texas to dancing with Pretty and our granddaughters in their kitchen to Roe, Roe, Roe, your Vote – anyone who has seen me try to dance will say gosh, Sheila can still carry a tune plus she’s got rhythm but Lordy, that old woman can’t dance.

    I may not be a Dancing Queen, but ABBA will always be my favorite musical group, my go-to songs when I think I can dance.

    Last week I watched the movie Mama Mia with Meryl Streep and a bunch of other people I know and like because it’s on my list of all time favorite movies and because I had a round of the epizooti. It was so good I watched it twice and then moved on to The Devil Wears Prada. I only watched it once, though, you’ll be pleased to know.

    Since I was in a prone position with no urges to dance, I listened to the words of a beautiful, slower tempo song from Mama Mia that Meryl sang in a poignant scene with her daughter. Beyond the obvious feelings I have now with my granddaughters, I can also connect the words to my relationship with Pretty. Life is often slipping through our fingers all the time.

    “Slipping Through My Fingers”

    Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
    Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
    I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness
    And I have to sit down for a while
    The feeling that I’m losing her forever
    And without really entering her world
    I’m glad whenever I can share her laughter
    That funny little girl

    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    I try to capture every minute
    The feeling in it
    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    Do I really see what’s in her mind
    Each time I think I’m close to knowing
    She keeps on growing
    Slipping through my fingers all the time

    Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
    Barely awake I let precious time go by
    Then when she’s gone, there’s that odd melancholy feeling
    And a sense of guilt I can’t deny
    What happened to the wonderful adventures
    The places I had planned for us to go
    Well, some of that we did, but most we didn’t
    And why, I just don’t know

    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    I try to capture every minute
    The feeling in it
    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    Do I really see what’s in her mind
    Each time I think I’m close to knowing
    She keeps on growing
    Slipping through my fingers all the time

    Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
    And save it from the funny tricks of time

    Slipping through my fingers…

    *************************

    Overheard in her playhouse from two-year-old Molly this weekend: “Naynay, I’ll never leave you.”

  • from the prom to white christmas to 2021

    from the prom to white christmas to 2021


    Pretty and I began Christmas Day with a musical comedy called The Prom that started streaming on Netflix in December with a cast that featured three of our film favorites, Meryl Streep, Kerry Washington and Nicole Kidman. The movie got mixed reviews from the critics (whoever they might be) but came highly recommended to us by several friends as a must see. Even though I knew nothing about it, my feeling was any movie with Meryl is a must see.

    Spoiler alert: The movie was about a high school girl in a small town in Indiana who wasn’t allowed to come to her prom because she wanted to bring another girl as her date. The plot sang and danced its way from one twist to another turn, from the longing of young lesbian love to the more political issues of inclusion and discrimination. Lavish musical production numbers, intimate dialogue among the key characters, Kerry Washington as a mother with a penchant for control that rivaled Olivia Pope in Scandal, Nicole Kidman with legs that went on forever, a musical Meryl having fun in the spirit of her Mama Mia movie in 2008. Director Ryan Murphy combined a variety of love stories set to music sung and danced to by a cast of talented performers that also featured James Corden, Keegan-Michael Key and Jo Ellen Pellman as the teenage lesbian heroine. Pretty and I were thoroughly entertained.

    What struck me as I watched from the comfort of my recliner, however, was the message of the movie. In 2020 teenage lesbians coming of age in outgoing VP Pence’s home state of Indiana weren’t intrinsically bad kids. They were legitimate heroines; their love could be celebrated, not condemned. What a difference sixty years make. I shed more than a few tears mixed with laughter as I relived the emotions of my teenage yearnings for the “love that dared not speak its name.” Going to a prom with another girl in West Columbia, Texas in 1964 was as unimaginable for me as becoming Vice President of the United States.

    Christmas night Pretty and I settled in for another musical comedy on Netflix: White Christmas starring Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney (George Clooney’s aunt on his daddy’s side), Danny Kaye and Vera-Ellen, another dancer whose legs went on forever. This classic was made in 1954 when I was 8 years old and while I have no memory of seeing it that Christmas, I do remember watching several times when it was replayed on television over the next six decades. I had, of course, forgotten almost everything about White Christmas except the song “Sisters,” a dance routine Clooney and a dubbed Vera-Ellen sang in costumes Beyonce and Tina Turner must have worn at some point in their careers. Did I mention Vera-Ellen’s legs went on forever? Well, Pretty was more impressed with her tiny waist which was practically nonexistent.

    The amazing costumes for White Christmas were created by Edith Head, one of Hollywood’s most prestigious costume designers who won eight Oscars during her career but not one for this technicolor film. No, the only Oscar for the movie went to Irving Berlin for the title song which is purportedly the largest selling single record of all time if you can trust Guinness World Records that places sales at more than 50 million copies. Pretty came up with the interesting research that Bing Crosby had recorded the song years before the 1954 movie was made – that’s Pretty for you, and she’s always right. Crosby introduced “White Christmas” for the first time on Christmas Day on his radio show in 1941, days after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

    Pretty and I spent Christmas day with our dogs, our gas logs and Netflix movies. This year we had no travel plans, no holiday get together with friends; but we had enough memories of our past twenty years together to make the day as special as our first Christmas. We had Mexican food leftovers purchased the day before at our favorite go-to small restaurant near our home. Life is better with salsa.

    The pandemic of 2020 changed not only our lives but also the lives of everyone on the planet forever. On Christmas Eve we opened gifts at the home of our son and daughter-in-law to share the joy of our granddaughter Ella James who at age 1 was more interested in opening the packages than what was inside. It was a memory maker, as my mother used to say.

    Stay safe, stay sane and please stay tuned as we face 2021 together. Pretty and I wish better days for all our friends in cyberspace in the New Year.

     

  • Home is the Sailor, Home from the Sea – and the Lady Gamecocks, Home from the Road


    And so apparently Pretty and Slow’s Chicken Road Curse for the Lady Gamecocks is officially stomped out with another road victory yesterday at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Great Balls of Fire – the girls in the Lady G uniforms finished with an 81 – 62 win against a very good Florida team and three very busy refs who loved to blow their whistles more than most refs will do all season. I’m not kidding.

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    Hey, there – we’re the refs…

    and we’ve got these shiny new whistles we like to blow

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    Please don’t play nice –

    we can’t wait to blow our new whistles

     

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    Lady Gs warm up – Gators bonding

    Coach Dawn Staley had her 200th. win at Auburn Thursday night and kept right on sizzling for number 201 Sunday afternoon. Pretty and I love our coach and have to confess we drive by her house sometimes since she lives a few blocks from Casa de Canterbury – no sightings other than seeing her jog by our house early one morning last summer. That was fun. Thanks, Coach Dawn, for keeping us all on track.

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    Hey, there – old lady with the white hair… 

    You look familiar – do I know you?

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    florida-game-1

    Coach Staley has a teachable moment during the game

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    Everybody, listen up

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    Associate Coach Boyer has a word with #22 A’ja Wilson who scored 23 points and had 13 rebounds

    (and also scared us to death with an ankle injury in the 4th. quarter – sending good wishes for her speedy recovery)

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    Bianca, did you understand what she just said?

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    #10 Allisha Gray had a big game with 18 points – 

    (everybody takes plenty of notes)

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    The halftime entertainment was an amazing woman 

    who committed unnatural acts right in front of us

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    Never in my wildest dreams

    When the game was over, Pretty and I made our way back to our dogs who had spent two hours in the car with the windows properly ventilated and were thrilled to have our company as we started the 400-mile trip home to Casa de Canterbury.

    All’s well that ends well, as The Red Man was fond of saying, and we arrived home safely in time to catch Meryl Streep on the Golden Globes last night. Wouldn’t have missed her for the world – she was a wonderful reminder of the importance of our resistance to inertia in the days to come in the face of what we know is wrong. Everybody, listen up.

    Finally, there is good news and bad news for us as we settle back in at Casa de Canterbury. The good news is I was able to purchase a new Road Atlas at a truck stop in Georgia yesterday on the way home  – that makes me very happy and eager for another road trip.

    The bad news is Pretty has a horrible cold which puts a damper on her usual good spirits, and Charly destroyed two leashes by chewing them in pieces that can never be put back together again – much like Humpty Dumpty after his great fall.

    Bless us for a safe trip, as Granny Selma used to say when she was in her right mind.

    Stay tuned.

  • Vanity Fair and the National Enquirer


    I picked up a copy of the April issue of Vanity Fair today while I was waiting in line to be checked out at the grocery store. The cover is this fabulous picture of Meryl Streep, and it hooked me because I love Meryl Streep. The title of the article suggested the possibility of new material about her early career.  It’s not unusual for me to pick up a magazine while I’m in line – the grocery stores make it so convenient – but I usually read the National Enquirer since their huge headlines are sensational and the pictures on the cover are incredibly tragic.  Sensational. Tragic. The mind races.

    I never buy a magazine because (a) they are too expensive and (b) the line is always very long when I wheel my cart in behind several people who are also waiting and I have plenty of time to read anything that piques my interest. Even if I choose the line that’s the shortest, it will invariably be the line that takes the longest amount of time. I don’t mind, though. It’s such a wonderful opportunity to catch up on current events both real and pretend. AOL and Al Jazeera notwithstanding, sometimes finding out that Princess Kate is about to have twins when even Prince William doesn’t know makes the National Enquirer fascinating.

    Of course, today was the day when my line moved as fast as a speeding bullet and I had no chance to even find the inside article on Meryl Streep in Vanity Fair – much less read it. As a result, I paid the $4.99 necessary to actually purchase the magazine and bring it home. I was in a fine mood thinking about everything I would find out about Meryl as soon as I unloaded the grocery bags from the car.

    On the way out of the store, I had a surreal conversation with an 83-year-old African American man who was ahead of me in line at the customer service area where he was buying a lottery ticket, and I was waiting to buy mine.  I believe I have a tattoo on my forehead that reads Tell Me the Most Intimate Details of Your Life in a Condensed Version because invariably people I meet in random everyday situations tell me much more information than I need to know. Today was no exception. Our conversation was brief, but I do hope that his vision of a world that Makes America Great Again is a bet with very long odds.

    The good news is that the article on Meryl Streep was everything I’d hoped for and  definitely worth $4.99 – but far less revealing than the tabloid tales with the tragic pictures. Meryl’s pictures were incredible and brought back a flood of great movie moments from her early days in tinsel town. Hooray for Hollywood.

    Tomorrow (Saturday the 9th.) is a busy day – I will have a booth at the Cayce Festival for the Arts from 9:00 to 5:00  and  would love for any readers in the Columbia area to stop by. I will be wearing my Tell Me the Most Intimate Details of Your Life tattoo on my forehead and you don’t even have to condense it. I promise.

    See you there!

     

     

     

  • Somebody STOP Me!


    My apologies to my followers in 61 countries around the world (but especially to my top five followers for 2013: Wayside Artist, Bob Lamb the novelist, coyotero2112, peacelovegreatcountrymusic and currentdescendent) who have come to expect a certain quality of thoughtful essays on topics of general interest to my readers.  Thank you for your comments and encouragement as we make our way together through the confusion we recognize as our particular slice of life.

    I felt the “thoughtful commentary” slipping a bit in my last post about the movies, but I moved gaily forward anyway and concluded my ramblings with the underlying themes of the films as a rationale for the previous post.  I have to say the response has been underwhelming which ought to make a blogger return to dance with the one who brung her.  Not so fast, my friend.

    Today I sink to a new low, and I admit it before you read another word.  I have to blame my digression from thoughtful commentary on something so I will simply say it’s my time of the year.  The endless annual parade of entertainment Award Shows, Super Bowl, Westminster Dog  Show, the Australian Open Tennis Tournament and the extra overload of the Sochi Winter Olympics this year have combined to conspire against me.  Woe is me.  I have become a Best of the Best junkie.

    Hello, my name is Sheila, and I am a BOTB junkie.  I admit it, and I will rise above it in future thoughtful commentary so forgive me this trespass today as I forgive others who trespass against me.  And you know who you are.

    Earlier this week Meryl Streep was a guest on Ellen.  That’s right.  Meryl Streep who I have loved through almost four decades of filmgoing – from as far back as Kramer vs Kramer and The French Lieutenant’s Woman ( was that really thirty-five years ago?) to August: Osage County as recently as two weeks ago.  Meryl was on the same small screen with my new BFF Ellen de Generes and they were hotter than a two-dollar pistol together.

    Meryl had vacationed in South Africa in 2013 and entertained Ellen with stories from her trip.

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    The conversation took a few turns from the African adventure and wound up in Osage County, Oklahoma.

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    The final segment of the show was typical of Ellen’s poking fun at her guests, and Meryl wasn’t spared.  Ellen asked Meryl to read ordinary cooking recipes as different characters, and the results were hilarious!

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    Oh, how I love women.  Regardless of color, race, sexual orientation, economic circumstances,  spiritual leanings,  religious or political preferences.  Okay – now I have gone too far and tipped the scales into hyperbole on the last two.  I reserve the right of first refusal there.

    As for my personal preferences for women, however, give me funny and liberal thinkers any day of the week over humorless and narrow-mindedness.  This week I was lucky enough to see two of my favorite women interacting in a somewhat unstructured albeit artificial setting, and all I had to do was sit back and enjoy.

    Thoughtful commentary be damned.  Full speed ahead.