Recently---meaning this Winter of Boredom on Widowhood Lane---I’ve become enamored with an unorthodox set of characters in a TV series, Burn Notice. Burn Notice had their seventh and final season last year but I just discovered the blacklisted CIA spy and his blood-thirsty ex-girlfriend who both run around Miami blowing stuff up as they use their special ops training to crush arms dealers, drug cartels, kidnappers and money laundering operations. Not exactly senior-friendly entertainment for someone who has always hated 007 type movies and action/adventure films that have more pyrotechnics than a pharmacy has pills. But as hard as it is to explain, every Wednesday and Friday night you can find me getting caught up in the Burn Notice reruns. In a review I just read of the series, I may have pin-pointed what it is that intrigues me about Michael and Fiona---“Michael brings levity to a serious situation.” There’s an undercurrent of humor to the show, not in your-face humor but nuanced in voice-tones and body language. I love nuance! It also doesn't hurt that Fiona brings a lot of the sexual tension to the series. She once started a marital arts fight with Mike because he wouldn't talk about where their relationship was going. Who hasn't wanted to do that in their dating past?
Maybe I’m thinking too deep here but I also think the reason why Burn Notice caught my attention this winter is because the characters are so mentally and physically capable of working their way out of any sticky or dangerous situation. Duh, isn’t that the premise of all action/adventure stories? The two main characters are young, physically fit, sharp as tacks, and well trained. I, on the other hand, feel for the first time in my life that I am incapable of being 100% in control of my future. I know, I know I was incredibly naïve to be believe I ever had any real control. It was just a roll of the dice, for example, that Don died before me and that I’ve had a reasonable blessed and happy life for so many years. Mostly I’m feeling physically less capable than just a few short years ago despite the fact that I just spent the morning raking snow off my roof. (Not to worry, I have a long-handled roof rake. My feet never left the ground.) The not-so-subtle difference between roof-raking today as opposed to a few years ago is that as I worked today I couldn’t help wondering how many neighbors had their fingers ready to dial 911 should the widow on the lane keel over from a heart attack. Mortality. Yes, Virginia, it is real and you’ll be taking the starring role in that film one day.
Daydreaming can be a useful tool for the creative mind. It can also be a lazy man’s tool or a way to avoid doing something you know needs to be done. Daydreaming is neither bad nor good. At least that’s the message I’m delivering to myself. And if I want to daydream that I can be as quick thinking and inventive as Michael and Fiona…well, as long as I don’t invest my last dollar into having an action-adventure Jean doll made my daydreams should remain harmless.
In the meantime my coming week is---well, looking up! No more boring stretch of time stuck at home with only my imagination to keep me company. I have plans for four social events—barring another snowstorm---to help keep my mind off from the fast approaching second sadiversary of Don’s passing. With help from the gods with a twisted sense of humor, two of those social events include going a movie and lunch. One day with the Red Hat Society and the another with the senior hall Movie and Lunch Club. What do you want to bet that both of these groups will pick The Secret life of Walter Mitty to go and see. ©