Herring? Food of the gods! Mackerel's splendid too, and cheap. It's a while
since we've had either -- thanks for the reminder.
But thanks even more for that lovely story.
best joanna
----- Original Message -----
From: "Lawrence Upton" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, July 06, 2005 11:58 AM
Subject: snap - Video snap 6th july 05
This happened a while back. I was reminded of it today. I saw an old person
finding it hard to walk who had a beautiful smile. Not bone structure. I
don't mean that. Not that kind of beauty. It was the generosity in her smile
which I mean; and what it showed of the person she was.
A pretty smile has persuaded me several times that a monster is otherwise;
and most of the time, for most of our lives, we can find each other
acceptable, but no more, possibly without thinking if we are speaking of
appearances or behaviour. Don't you think so?
This woman today was not prepossessing....
Look at this. It doesn't show you what I want you to see; but perhaps it
shows enough. For me, it triggers the memory I'll have to say to you,
because there are no pictures of the important part.
These kids here, all uncoordinated and really with half-formed minds, smell
some herring I am carrying home from Penzance. We're in Penzance here. And
around now, though the camera's not on him - well, it's timed out actually -
one of them says Mister, you smell of piss; or something of that sort.
It was the fish; but what if I had smelt of piss? Would I want to!? Would I
want to be *told in public?
I took out one of the fish and pushed it towards the young man, waving it
around, using it a bit like a glove puppet, I suppose. They writhed away
from it. They don't see anything ill or dying usually; and they live in an
overly-perfumed environment where they can't even smell themselves.
"Uuuugghhh!" was the response "You going to eat that?" They didn't know
enough to realise I was buying what is now a cheap food; or they'd have
mocked me some more.
What I really wish I had filmed, instead of wasting memory on them, though
one only catches these things by filming at random, was the boarding of the
bus by an extremely old lady. What happened when she had boarded.
She was behind the children, of course. They wouldn't wait for her. I was on
before her, and watched her progress.
She was arthritic. She had difficulty even with the low platform. The
creases and wrinkles in her dry face made me think of how an unmade road
gets when its been driven on and dried out only to be driven on again in the
wet and then dried out again, ruts overlaying ruts.
I remember there being no expression except a suggestion of pain willed
away, leaving a simulated mask.
It was as if she had been enlarged. Her ankles resembled the base of a
coppiced tree.
She got up to the driver and started opening her bag for her old person's
card, whatever that's called.
I don't need that, said the driver; but I'll tell you what. You look even
more beautiful than usual. Give us a kiss.
And they puckered up and kissed. He said Thank you! with gusto.
The careless children couldn't handle it; but her awareness was remade,
tears in her eyes and laughing at the same time.
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