Street Strings

I was profoundly affected watching The Sol*ist recently. Some movies are like that for me. The story lingers in my mind. This one did for several reasons I think. My father played the cello, and I did too (for a short time when I needed to learn an instrument in school.) I love its low, mellow tones. In the film it was neat to see a man playing a cello on the street, rather than a guitar or violin. I love any movie that boldly shows the gritty part of life. And, I appreciate the portrayal it gives to mental illness on the streets. I felt like the film gave a good try at getting inside the mind of someone with schizophrenia. Lastly, the ending spoke volumes. It was not a pie-in-the-sky, all-things-work-out ending. It was reality, but mixed in that reality was a profound statement of what comes from looking outside oneself and giving to another. The "normal" guy in the film was the one whose life got better because he was willing to step outside his comfort and give to one "not so normal," including giving the very sacrificial gift of friendship.

And, in realizing the reality of life at the ending of the film, one comes to ponder what is really "normal." Some things in life actually are OK the way they are, and don't need to be "fixed." I recommend the film, albeit with a language caveat (not overwhelming, or gratuitous, but definitely there).

Photo: my dad and his cello; photo by HSF.

PS: 38 happy years for the Gardener and I today ...