My mother loved Gone With the Wind.
As a teen, she may have first seen it in 1939, the year it premiered. Much, much later, I watched it with Mom on television. Though I’m not a fan of the famous, sprawling film, who can forget the closing moment?
“Oh, I can’t think about this now! I’ll go crazy if I do! I’ll think about it tomorrow. But I must think about it. I must think about it. What is there to do? What is there that matters? Tara! Home. I’ll go home. And I’ll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another day.”
The music swelled, and soon the final credits rolled as—viewers may forever assume—the clever Scarlett O’Hara schemed to rebuild Tara and perhaps get Rhett back and, well, keep living like there were 10,000 tomorrows.
Which finally leads me to ask: what’s your excuse for avoiding hospice? Read More →






