2 weeks Ago By Sarah Wright
Dear Berkshire Edge readers:I am celebrating my birthday next week by hosting a film screening called “Live Till I Die,” a 73-minute documentary described as an emotional marathon about what it means to live life to the fullest.Courtesy of Film and Tell.I would be thrilled beyond words if you would join me Monday, April 28, at 7 p.
m., for a virtual screening of “Live Till I Die.” All the details are right here.
Also, I hope your Patriots’ Day was everything you hoped it would be—and then some. Admittedly, I should have seen Pope Francis’ death coming, but more on this in a minute.Last weekend, my mother and stepfather hosted Easter dinner.
Having arrived Friday afternoon for a Saturday celebration, I discreetly asked my stepdad how many fascists were coming to dinner. “Two,” he quickly replied. “OK, fine,” I laughed.
Hollywood, if you are listening, “Guess How Many Fascists Are Coming to Dinner?” has timely remake potential, just saying.Anyway, dinner was fascist-fantastic. My mom’s special request was that there be no political conversation the entire day, so Trump fatigued is she.
Simply put, Winnie is tired of winning.When Uncle Mike arrived, however, he sat next to me and asked about my current work. He generally grasps what I do but wanted to know specifically what it means.
“I help undocumented immigrants every single day,” I told him truthfully.Uncle Mike sighed. Then I cracked open a can of Berlinetta Brewing’s flagship beer: a velvet Pilsner in the classic Czech pale lager style brewed with all imported ingredients.
Made in Bridgeport Conn., it comes in a yellow can with a wolf. Velvety delicious.
All good.Photo courtesy of Berlinetta Brewing.Mom and Dave opted for an Easter Saturday dinner due to my brother’s work schedule as well as their desire to attend Easter Sunday Mass.
As we sat down to feast, we also remembered my dad in our prayers. Not only is April 19 Patriots’ Day proper, it marks the day my dad died decades ago.As I become more and very middle-aged, my mortality awareness grows.
The loss of my father ratcheted this up at a tender age for me. The death of the Holy Father magnified it on Monday.At the same time, I wandered into a Seder in the street last Thursday while walking around downtown Boston.
Several rabbis spoke, as did others. The clarity of the signage at this peaceful protest against lawless xenophobia and bureaucratic incompetence felt like an early birthday present.A peaceful protester handed me a sign that read, “Free Rümeysa, Free Mahmoud.
”The best one read, “Opposing fascism is a Jewish tradition.” Ditto for “Let (all) my people go.” I recycled my sign at a “Hands Off” rally in Connecticut two days later.
My birthday falls on the 99th day of you-know-who’s second try, which is killing me, not to mention the economy, the Constitution, and Marines deployed to the southern border.At least on Monday, April 28, at 7:00 pm, I hope you’ll join me for “Live Till I Die.” Spending time with fellow film lovers brings me indescribable joy, something we could all use a little bit more of these days.
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