My mind never did work in a straight line.

My husband is reading African Hunter. He mentions to me that the author, Baron Bror von Blixen-Finecke is the spouse of Karen Blixen, the woman who wrote the beautiful novel, Out of Africa. From there my mind wonders to the 1985 film that was based on her memoirs, primarily Karen’s relationship with a Aristocratic British Ex-Pat, Finch Hatton following her separation and later divorce from Bror.
In the movie, Karen is played by Meryl Streep. I can’t remember ever shedding tears during a movie as I did when Meryl Streep nailed Finch’s funeral eulogy. I sincerely believed that the deceased Karen inhabited Streep’s physicality while performing that scene. A most fluid performance, intimately grafted into my memory until further notice.
From there I went to Margaret Thatcher, because Streep was the only woman capable of the power Thatcher possessed, her maleness perfectly executed in form of a wide brimmed hat wearing modestly donned hyper- conservative woman.
And who to pair with Thatcher but Ronnie?
I was a freshman in high school when my now husband, a senior, did an exchange to Germany. Tonight was actually the first time (in over fifteen years together) that he actually talked about it. How the first homes after the Berlin wall were beautifully decked out and opulently manicured to appear idyllic…then a block or two behind them buildings full of shells left from the Soviets, a tangible reminder of their superiors.
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