By Myles Ludwig We learn a lot early in our lives, even when we don’t know we’re learning. Those early impressions of childhood set the standards that accompany us for the rest of our lives, for better or worse. We don’t understand them then, and if you’re at all sensitive to the sashaying vagaries of your moods, you can choose to remain a prisoner in the cellular structure … [Read more...]
Sundays: When the only ones for us were the mad ones
By Myles Ludwig Too old to be lost, too young to be found, we were caught between the bohemians and the Beats when Jack Kerouac’s On the Road was published in 1957. With Walter Salles’ movie version of the novel now opening in Palm Beach County, it seems appropriate to recall the book and how important it was to my generation. On its face, the novel is a rambling, … [Read more...]
Sundays: The game of friendship
By Myles Ludwig Writing about a friendship is a lot more difficult than it seems. Yes, one can write about the mutual gifts and the rewards. But writing about the thing, the stuff that holds it all together as one travels through life is a little like trying to define love or capture dark matter or a miasma in a photograph ― you know it’s there, but you can’t see it, touch it, … [Read more...]
Sundays: Past lives, luminous memories
By Myles Ludwig There are times in every writer’s life when he can only write about himself. Philosophy becomes personal. The strictures of fiction, the narrative structure, the plot all seem improbable, and one can no longer feel comfortable creating a landscape into which armies of characters are moved around like tin soldiers on the counterpane of youth. Disguise fails. … [Read more...]
Sundays: Bandeau on the run
By Myles Ludwig There are lost opportunities in life, those moments when you wonder why you were oblivious to the possibilities. There are also lost friends, lost because of some difference of opinion that seems petty in retrospect or even a bond-busting betrayal that, seen through the telescope of time, seems no worse than the unruliness of trying to catch some sleep lying … [Read more...]
Sundays: It is my sad Google to report
By Myles Ludwig Sometimes I Google around to see if I can find out what’s doing with old friends I haven’t seen in many years. Facebook and LinkedIn have their place, especially for reconnecting with childhood classmates or former colleagues, but neither have the kind of depth to allow a peek over the ledge of our psyches to see very far into the meaning of the past. … [Read more...]
Sundays: Goodbye, heebie-jeebies
By Myles Ludwig They call it stormy Monday, but Sunday’s just as bad. That’s not exactly how T-Bone Burnett’s song goes, but for many people, Sundays, particularly Sunday nights are frightening. I was struck by something Jacques Torres, chocolatier nonpareil, said in The New York Times’ Sunday-routine breezy, which is about as close as the venerable Gray Lady gets to a … [Read more...]
Sundays: No license, no art
By Myles Ludwig This year’s crop of Oscar contenders has stirred a media tantrum. The controversy appears to be about artistic license. The list is dominated by three films ― Zero Dark Thirty, Lincoln, Argo ― based on, inspired by or, to use that TV trope, ripped (not torn or copied like a computer file) from the headlines. Another – Django Unchained – skirts the issue by … [Read more...]
Sundays: Asking the really big question
By Myles Ludwig Once upon a time, I thought there was a secret key to unlock the meaning of life. A metaphoric key, but an actual secret, hidden away in a Holy Ark or sequestered in a reliquary. I believed then, that once I reached the age of 30, someone would shake my hand in a peculiar way ― like a Masonic ritual salute ― and induct me into the club which kept the secret … [Read more...]
Sundays: A wound that may never heal
By Myles Ludwig The earthquake and tsunami that hit the Solomon Islands hard has a personal meaning for me. I have lived and traveled in the region and experienced typhoons, hurricanes and tsunamis, and I know how devastating those experiences can be for anyone who survives. For weeks later, imagined sounds of winds and waves disturbed my sleep. I have a particular interest … [Read more...]