Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Memories

The title of this morning’s post is the name of a film I saw as a child in England, and the sense of love, lust, and longing has stuck with me all these years. My question is: Should I attempt to find it again in today’s technology? Frankly, I’m often overwhelmed by too much of everything. I’m afraid if I actually watch the picture again it will destroy a part of my childhood that I have held dear. But on the other hand, it was so well done and gave me a sense of reference about life. And as I am typing this, other films of that era are popping into my head. Woman in a Dressing Gown, Breathless, The L-Shaped Room—I’m pretty sure there’s a nomenclature for this genre nowadays, but I’m content just to recall lusting after Jean Paul Belmondo when I was 12. So, it’s early Sunday morning here on the East Coast, and I’m ready to start my day as I always do with a walk around outdoors. The one concession I’ve made lately is that I wait for it to be light enough to see where I’m walking. Falls and broken bones are not as easily recovered from at 78. As I toddle off, I leave thinking about the Netflix offering from BBC2 which I watched recently: Black Earth Rising, a very well done series on the horrific subject of the Rwandan genocide starring the fabulous Michaela Coel and a stellar cast of Black British actors as well as White American John Goodman (of Roseanne fame). I’m signing off with the motto of Dr. Bronner (of magic soap fame) informing my day—ALL ONE!