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POLITICAL SCENE
By JOHN M. WYLIE II, Publisher
A NEW CHAPTER, AN OLD SONG
For the group of late teens staging a semi-professional production of Fiddler on the Roof, the words of the signature son "Sunrise, Sunset" seemed hopelessly out of touch.
(Tevye)
Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?
(Golde)
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
(Tevye)
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he get to be so tall?
(Golde)
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?
(Men)
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
(Women)
Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears
Now the members of that long-ago cast understand all too clearly what they were singing almost 40 years ago.
For us the reality hit home Tuesday morning. From the day he learned to drive and had a car, James parked it on the north edge of our place.
His car was an extension of his being, personalized in so many ways. It was his home away from home, a symbol of independence and access to wherever in the world he wanted to go.
Now, the car is parked there for only a few more days. He and Alison are headed to Washington, where they will need only her hybrid. The Tracker is now just a small savings account with wheels. Proceeds from its sale will likely go to Metro fares.
It is a time of great excitement. James and Alison are a perfect fit. Their move to DC is a great adventure and a golden opportunity, even though obligations in Houston will keep them separated more between now and the wedding than they have ever been since they met.
As we helped them pack and plan, we talked of the future--names for children (should the boy be Marcus Aurelius in honor of James' love of history or John John in honor of the two grandfathers?); plans for the holidays (rotate between Oologah, Houston and Washington?), figuring out what to take to the new life and what to leave behind.
But it also is sad that they never again will be as much a part of our physical day-to-day lives as they are now (although modern communications make it far better than it was in Tevye and Golda's day).
Back in our acting days, we thought the tears in audience among the older folks were in appreciation of our dramatic skills and musical prowess.
Now, we realize that in their mind, those audience members were adding a key word to the lyrics:
Sunrise, sunset
Too swiftly fly the years.
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