Cherry Orchard and "That Wild Man"
Feb. 15th, 2005 02:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thehefnerCHERRY ORCHARD goes up next weekend, that's the 24th, 25th, and 26th! Come see a work that's brilliance, scholarly acclaim, and theatrical purpose is completely lost on the entire cast! Actually, there is an excerpt of note, only because when I heard it,
"It's a telegram from Paris. I receive them every day. That wild man is sick again, and he's doing poorly. He asks my forgiveness, and begs me to come to him. I really should go to Paris and take care of him for a while. You have a stern look on your face, but what should I do, my dear? What should I do? He's sick, he's alone and unhappy, and who will look after him there? Who will keep him from making mistakes? Who will give him his medicine on time? Why should I hide it or be silent about it? I love him, it's obvious. I love him, I love him. He's a stone around my neck, and I'll follow him to the bottom."
That and the other character's response, "He's a real scoundrel, and you're the only one who doesn't know it! He's a worthless creature. A loser."
This estrangement thing isn't exactly fun. I'm free of my father, sure, more free than I've ever been. But at the same time I wonder if maybe now I'm too far in the other direction. The man literally has no one. And while common sense would dictate that he should be left to the mess he made, especially when he's stubbornly refused assistance in the forms of maids, cable TV, and whatnot, the fact remains: he's my father.
I've come really far, too far to get sucked back in again. At the same time, I cannot in good conscience leave him to this, while he's physically and (I don't need a doctor to tell me this) mentally unfit to handle any of this on his own. He really should be in an assisted living outfit, but he's too damn stubborn to do that. He needs a maid. Screw that, I think only the Ghostbusters could clean up that rotting squalor.
Besides, it's my birthday in two weeks, his in a month.
One of my father's favorite sayings was "Love is a two-way street. You have to give if you want to get." You see, love for him was never unconditional. That saying has still stuck with me today, never stronger than when I learned, little by little, that is was a total lie. But if we're to go to metaphor-land, love may not be a two-way street, but it's surely a double-edged sword.
I mean, given last summer, last Saturday, and this week, I should know that by now, shouldn't I?
I just need to figure out to keep from getting sucked back in.
"It's a telegram from Paris. I receive them every day. That wild man is sick again, and he's doing poorly. He asks my forgiveness, and begs me to come to him. I really should go to Paris and take care of him for a while. You have a stern look on your face, but what should I do, my dear? What should I do? He's sick, he's alone and unhappy, and who will look after him there? Who will keep him from making mistakes? Who will give him his medicine on time? Why should I hide it or be silent about it? I love him, it's obvious. I love him, I love him. He's a stone around my neck, and I'll follow him to the bottom."
That and the other character's response, "He's a real scoundrel, and you're the only one who doesn't know it! He's a worthless creature. A loser."
This estrangement thing isn't exactly fun. I'm free of my father, sure, more free than I've ever been. But at the same time I wonder if maybe now I'm too far in the other direction. The man literally has no one. And while common sense would dictate that he should be left to the mess he made, especially when he's stubbornly refused assistance in the forms of maids, cable TV, and whatnot, the fact remains: he's my father.
I've come really far, too far to get sucked back in again. At the same time, I cannot in good conscience leave him to this, while he's physically and (I don't need a doctor to tell me this) mentally unfit to handle any of this on his own. He really should be in an assisted living outfit, but he's too damn stubborn to do that. He needs a maid. Screw that, I think only the Ghostbusters could clean up that rotting squalor.
Besides, it's my birthday in two weeks, his in a month.
One of my father's favorite sayings was "Love is a two-way street. You have to give if you want to get." You see, love for him was never unconditional. That saying has still stuck with me today, never stronger than when I learned, little by little, that is was a total lie. But if we're to go to metaphor-land, love may not be a two-way street, but it's surely a double-edged sword.
I mean, given last summer, last Saturday, and this week, I should know that by now, shouldn't I?
I just need to figure out to keep from getting sucked back in.
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no subject
Date: 2005-02-15 07:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-15 08:13 pm (UTC)Twenty-Two Disasters!
Date: 2005-02-16 03:02 am (UTC)-Peter Knox
Re: Twenty-Two Disasters!
Date: 2005-02-17 02:27 am (UTC)Good to have you aboard, Pete, I'll friend you if you don't mind.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-16 06:30 am (UTC)I know I don't comment very often, but I read your posts, and I wish you nothing but the best in dealing with this awful situation with your father. I hope someday all can be resolved with the least amount of guilt feelings. You deserve to be happy too.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-17 02:25 am (UTC)