I fear we won’t see her like again…

 

Strange how it happens- that synchronicity thing. A-M and I were just talking about her the other day

As I started my Saturday with a catch-up of some of the news of the week I might have missed as other things took precedence, the news of Maureen O’Hara’s death, in her sleep, at 95, popped into the feed.

I love Maureen O’Hara. There was so much to admire- her beauty (obvious as it was) to be certain, but the spirit and intelligence of the characters she brought to life… that strength and no-nonsense facet of her personality shone through every performance and interview I ever saw.

Although a woman of her times (despite my enduring love for The Quiet Man, there are bits of that- and McLintock!, too- that make me cringe a little. But I can acknowledge the time/place in which those wonderful romps were created, and allow the license that saw her dragged through town and/or paddled by her exasperated husband- John Wayne having shown remarkable restraint up until that point in each story- in full sight of all the townspeople), it always seemed as if she chose, consciously, to always play the strong woman.

No shrinking violet roles for Maureen. Whether she was a divorced single mother who also managed to juggle a position of importance at Macy’s, or a Boston matron taking charge of her children and herself (looking back, how very bizarre was the concept behind The Parent Trap– but I digress), she was a pretty solid role model, or a frontier wife who stood up for herself and her homestead.

She first caught my attention when I was but a wean watching The Wonderful World of Disney, and her role as Hayley Mills’ mother placed her pretty solidly in my childhood orbit. But the character of Doris Walker in Miracle on 34th Street is the one that continues to resonate with me- regardless of the number of times I’ve seen the film and her performance.

As a single mother, Doris was all practicality- hardworking, caring practicality. No time for fairy tales as she taught her daughter, Susan (how wonderful was Natalie Wood, in that role?), to ignore the vagaries of life in favour of the sometimes-harsh realities. And yet, when presented with evidence of the need to hang onto the wonderful, she embraced and encouraged those fancies while maintaining the requisite intelligence and pragmatism necessary to make things work in the real world.

I think that’s a big part of why the story endures, and why the film is still broadcast each year (I admit I’ve never seen the remake. Why mess with perfection?). The adaptability, romanticism, and good sense displayed, makes the story- and its characters- pretty unique. Especially when held up against the two-dimensional characters we are faced with these days- both in film and IRL (no names mentioned, but I could cite a whole family of them that have television shows, for some inexplicable reason).

I’m finding her death- after a well-lived life- yet another example of that synchronicity thing I’ve talked about a time or two, for a couple of reasons.

It’s a melancholy kind of day, here in my City by the Lake. After fighting the good fight- which ended in yet another odd game (that Caleb kid had best not be planning any trips to Toronto any time soon)- my Blue Jays have left the playing field for another year. It was a quite a ride, to be sure, and my gratitude and honest affection for this group of guys is undimmed by their inability to take it all the way. But I woke up feeling a little bereft, this morning, with no baseball left to watch (yes, I realize there’s still a World Series to be played- but it’s not of much interest without the engagement with the players- and I can’t see that happening in the next couple of days…) and a rainy Saturday stretching ahead of me.

Another of my blogging besties, Beth, wrote, yesterday, about her frustrations with the gender gap that remains evident- in politics, in business, in education, in every-freakin-day life- that coincide with the way my mind has been working of late.

Pre-the sad news about Maureen, a random piece of click-bait I saw discussed the gender bias that is embedded and inculcated in Hollywood. Daniel Craig- that most awesome of 007s- minced no words when discussing its ridiculous and insidious double standards. That he also spoke about the inherent misogyny of James Bond? Icing on the cake (Don’t get me wrong- I love 007- in most of his incarnations. Craig is the fave, thus far, though. I’ll be seeing Spectre in a couple of weeks. Definitely).

I’d love to think that the fact that these sorts of topics seem to be everywhere these days is indicative of the fact that things are changing. But I’m becoming increasingly less sure that that’s the case.

Another article that popped up in my feed this morning, by a writer I admire, greatly, Valerie Tarico, discusses the prevalence of blatant and rampant attempts to dis-empower women, and the ways in which certain factions of society are doing so.

As she does so often, Valerie has given me pause and caused me to think about the way we use language- and the dangers in doing so, unthinkingly. Her brief article has significantly shifted my way of referencing- both in my head and aloud- the manner in which conservative factions (including our own, unlamented, former PM) shape ‘discussions’ surrounding issues that directly impact women.

In thinking about the ways in which we communicate (always at the forefront of my mind, given my day job and my constitutional inclinations), I’m increasingly frustrated by the unconscious acceptance we have developed for the improper usage of words and terms as descriptors of phenomena that influence pivotal aspects of our lives.

There are a number of posts in the drafts folder on just that very topic. As we support the decline of our language(s), we blindly accept the ways in which the media, lobbyists, politicians, religious leaders, adapt certain terms to suit their take on particular issues.

It is something that we need to keep in mind, as we sit on rainy Saturdays flipping through the virtual papers to stay up-to-date about what it happening in our world(s).

I’d like to think that Maureen O’Hara- and any of the characters she played over the course of her celebrated life- would agree that if even dialogue about the treacherous undermining of women’s rights is couched in terminology evoking war and assault, then we’d best be arming ourselves with like weaponry in our defence.

She was beautiful, she was classy, she was intelligent, she was savvy, and she was one tough broad.

Although I’ve never seen it confirmed, I’ve always understood that the short story (by Maurice Walsh) that inspired John Ford’s film, was based on the Irish saying: Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde.

‘Beware the anger of the patient (quiet) man.’

Or woman.

Another of my favourites? Trí ní is deacair a thuiscint; intleacht na mban, obair na mbeach, teacht agus imeacht na taoide.

‘Three things that are difficult to understand: the mind of a woman, the work of bees, and the coming and going of the tide.’

Saturday thoughts. Go in peace, but as you lived, Ms. O’Hara. With fire and determination. I thank you- for the entertainment and for the example. xo

Advertisements

10 comments on “I fear we won’t see her like again…

  1. […] this evening of the passing of Maureen O’Hara. I had been chatting about her recently with Cole, in comments, when we each discovered a mutual admiration for this fine actress who embodied […]

  2. She was a quite a woman, Cole. Strange, in a weirdly wonderful way, that we were speaking of her so recently. Beth’s post too. And the links within this one. (I clicked on the youtube link referenced in the Daniel Craig piece and had quite a laugh!) Maybe Maureen can be our idol in more ways than one. 😉

    • colemining says:

      A woman worthy of the name, A-M. Too many ‘idols’ these days can hardly define the term, let alone live up to it. It actually hit me, when we were chatting about her, that I hadn’t heard anything about her recently, so I went and checked to see that she was still with us (given my occasional breaks from the social media, I might’ve missed an announcement that said otherwise). I think she’d be the last to want mourning- by all accounts, she lived her life as fully and as much on her own terms as anyone could wish (in spite of the loss of her husband quite young). I do love her dearly. I feel a movie marathon coming on… xo (Your poem brought a tear or two, BTW. Beautiful, as always)

  3. D. Parker says:

    I just adored her as a child and wanted to be her. So wonderful, in everything. She will be missed.

  4. Rick says:

    I had not heard the news. She was one of my favorites.

  5. bethbyrnes says:

    Cole, I cannot think why I am just seeing this now. It has brought me to tears. She was one of the women I so admired for all the reasons you so eloquently shared. There were a few in that time, like Myrna Loy, who combined all the attributes that make women magnificent. The beauty, sensitivity, artistry, physicality to transport us in movies that to this day hold up to any others produced since their time. That is why I love those old movies. Curiously, my beloved Aunt Kate, also 95, passed away this month. I cannot yet bring myself to write about her. But she was all those things as well. May they both “dul i síocháin”. xx

    • colemining says:

      Happy Saturday morning, Beth! I find it hard to be truly sad she’s gone- given her long, wonderful life, and the fact that we still have all her films to inspire and comfort us. ‘Only the Lonely’ was on a few months back- and it was so heartwarming to re-watch that one. Such a lovely story- and she and John Candy (who died far too young- and who was the nicest man- he would have been 65 today, coincidentally) had such warmth between them. I may have to put that one on again and raise a glass to the two of them, this time.

      Hope you have a lovely weekend! And Happy Hallowe’en- ‘Ghostbusters’ (one of my absolute favourite films) just came on, so I’ll have that in th background as I do some chores and, perhaps, some writing, before we head out to a party later on. xo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s