Rooney, best known for his weekly segment on CBS’ 60 Minutes, passed away on November 4th in New York. He recently had undergone an undisclosed surgery, though did not recover after the development of major complications. Read about his life and work here.
Rest in peace, Andy Rooney. You and your magical eyebrows.
My dad would always watch his segment. Still, at age 92, he outlived him.
mom—soul of father
father—is actually dead, only we can see him even though he appears alive
me—surprised he’s living
me—in purgatory—people ushering me along are actually demons, and show their true faces once i’ve realized that i’m dead
tupac—friend smoked his ashes
cartman—ate kenny’s ashes
that movie where the man promised never to tell anyone that he saw that gargoyle..but he did
As the two-year mark of my father’s death approaches, I have Joan Didion’s new memoir to look forward to. The Year of Magical Thinking helped me so much, although her sorrow was so spare and sharp, while mine raged and drifted like a current. Via New York Magazine:
The ways in which neither we nor they can bear to contemplate the death or the illness or even the aging of the other. As the pages progressed it occurred to me that their actual subject was not children after all, at least not children per se, at least not children qua children: their actual subject was this refusal even to engage in such contemplation, this failure to confront the certainties of aging, illness, death. This fear. Only as the pages progressed further did I understand that the two subjects were the same. When we talk about mortality we are talking about our children. - Joan Didion, Blue Nights
After reading that excerpt, I was nagged by having read or watched something similar recently, that struck a chord. Then I realized it was from watching the movie version of Stephen King’s “Christine” (directed by John Carpenter). The protagonist, a troubled, nerdy teen says:
I think that part of being a parent is trying to kill your kids…Because as soon as you have a kid, you know for sure that you’re going to die. When you have a kid, you see your own gravestone….If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a grown-up is about learning how to die.
The scene where the father in “The Road” dies moved me to tears, even though I knew it was coming, having read the book by Cormac McCarthy. It really wasn’t a good movie (or book), but the finality of the son pulling the sheet over his father’s face…my boyfriend didn’t see that I was crying.
Last night’s episode of HIMYM came as a shock and I didn’t cry. But here are a couple of perspectives:
The numbers at first glance do seem just like a gimmick and a distraction. And one commenter said that they might have been better if they counted down to something more fun. It was jarring to see what they did countdown to. However, to Marshall now all of these scenes in his life will be so many days or so many hours until he learned of his father’s death. It is an extremely honest way to show how people deal with such terrible news….Marshall had this countdown going on in his life and he didn’t even know it and he will play this episode which equates to probably the week before his father’s death, over and over again. And in that world, and in Ted’s narration where the narrator knows the end, it all leads to this life changing event.
HIMYM has always been non-linear with time in its storytelling, especially since the premise of the entire series is that it is a story about the past. I like to see the numbers as a reflection of how important this day is in all their lives. This sad day, and its 50 trivial moments, are now embedded in this group’s memory. Whether intended or not, I like this interpretation of the numbers–not as a countdown, but as an accounting.
(Source: cultural-learnings.com)
