Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Robert's photos

As I wrote awhile ago, I have a box of stuff I was given to store when my beloved friend, visionary playwright, director and arts ambassador Robert Handforth died of AIDS in 1988. I have hardly looked at it in all this time, but on the weekend I did, and found, among many theatre programs from the 70's and Bob's scripts, a few strips of 35 millimetre film - no idea of what. So I took it to my photo guy and got a few pix developed. 

Heartbreaking - the very young me, and me and Robert. Around 1969 - we were around 19.

Oh my. I have a cold today, am achey with dripping nose, feeling ugly, old and decrepit, and here's an unrecognizable young woman with beautiful skin and thick shiny hair, with a man who, though gay, loved many strong women and was one of the great loves of her life, and she, it seems, of his ...

Oh well. Life marches on and so do we, friends - like it or lump it, and usually, I like it. But these photos hit hard. I MISS ROBERT SO MUCH! He was beautiful, brilliant, crabby, complicated, prescient. He changed my life and that of many others. I want to talk to him right now. How dare he not be here?

And I know this feeling is going to get worse. These years will start to be about loss. Who else can I bear to lose? NO ONE!

Robert is not here, but Rick Mercer is. I watched his show yesterday, always fun, and his rant was wonderful.
And something else that's wonderful: David Brooks, conservative columnist, writing movingly on what he will miss about Obama. I hope what he says will hold true for our Prime Minister as well.

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