God, I feel old tonight.
Back when I was a young teenager, I had two idols, one of whom was Bubbles. I was even introduced to Bubbles once, which impressed me enormously, then and now. Today, my world, and yours, is a worse place, because today Bubbles died.
Rest in joy, Beverly Sills, as you lived.
Wherein the author discusses needlework, mostly, from knitting to quilting, but is likely to go off on tangents at frequent intervals.
Previous blithering
Blogs I Read
With some effort at categorizing, though it may not seem so at times...
Knitting
Life As She Is Lived
2 comments:
Ain't about age. She was barely older than my mother would have been - died of the same thing, too. We knew her, of course - I didn't know her well myself, but she'd worked with my father (who hadn't?). And I knew her mother, and I can tell you the apple didn't fall far - Shirley was a trip and a half. The last time I saw Beverly on stage... OK, so maybe it is about being old, after all... was in the last show she did at the Met, "Don Pasquale." 1978? 1980? Something like that. With the young Håkan Hagegård in his Met debut as Malatesta. (Him I later came to know well. Don't get me started.) Passing the torch, as it were, and as it should be, I guess. For a nice characteristic valedictory line, read the last graf of Justin Davidson's obit in Newsday.
I feel old because my youngest a) gradudated last month and b) got married.
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