Happy Valentine’s Day! Please consider this a massive, frilly, heart-shaped valentine that, when opened, dumps glitter all over your lap. Inside is a picture of Christopher Plummer, who shuffled off this mortal coil on February 5th.
The timing is funny, since I named this newsletter after his duet with Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. The song is about two people wondering aloud what each could have done to deserve the love of the other. As a part-time Lutheran (the other part is “agnostic who loves astrology”), all I hear in this song is the concept of grace. Not in the sense of “graceful” or “gracious,” but the theological description, which I’ve boiled down over the years to “love and acceptance given without consideration of ‘deservingness.’” When someone is really hopscotching on my last nerve, I repeat “grace is undeserved” like a mantra in my head until I unclench and retire the desire for a cinematic backhand.
Fun fact: The song wasn’t part of the original soundtrack. According to the definitive guide to all things SOM, The Making of The Sound of Music by Max Wilk (pick up a copy from your local bookstore, I refuse to link to Amazon!), Richard Rodgers wrote “Something Good” specifically for the film version, replacing the song “An Ordinary Couple” from the stage adaptation, at the urging of the producers, who felt the song was weak. In the final version, Plummer’s voice was dubbed by legendary playback singer Bill Lee, but we’ll forgive that. Wanting more from him than this gif is honestly greedy.
When my grandmother neared the end of her life in the hospital this past fall, my mom put on The Sound of Music for her, hoping she’d be soothed by the familiar melodies. That this was the last piece of art Grandmomma consumed—that “Something Good” soundtracked one of her last days—feels appropriate. She had, as the song lyrics go, a wicked childhood, a miserable youth. But despite all that, she welcomed love into her life then gave it back out a thousand-fold to everyone she knew, creating a house full of joy and art, playing Rodgers and Hammerstein records on the turntable and dancing in the kitchen. No one taught her how to love or what to love. Yet, she moved naturally and authentically from a challenging childhood and adolescence to an adulthood festooned with community, choir, pearls, art, china dishes, Handel, baking, and special cards for every occasion.
She had every reason to reject love, art, beauty and connection as superficial, unworthy of time and money. But she didn’t. She didn’t question the deservingness of what brought her peace or pleasure. She may have questioned her own deservingness for love, but she didn’t let it stop her from building a life around her great love with my grandfather. Grandmomma’s life was a masterclass in loving without a thought to perceived deservingness.
That is the ethos of Zhuzh and why this newsletter is named “Something Good.” We’re going to celebrate what we love, what brings us peace or pleasure, without a thought to “deservingness.” I am not a critic (well, except for my tepid takedown of Linda Holmes’ book). I am not here to put my sociology degree to use with thoughtful analyses of art and culture. I am here to share something good with you, to add a sprinkle of sparkle to your Sunday evening, to remind you to stay arms-wide-open to whatever you love.
What’s something good that you’d like to share? Reply to this email and tell me. I will think of it as a valentine <3.
So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye,
Elizabeth
P.S.
If you you haven’t experienced “Something Good” in a while—or ever—I encourage you to spend a minute and 45 seconds with it now.
I’m experiencing tears as well—tears that flow from joy and connection in obvious and mysterious ways.
Just made your mom tear up again, nearly a year later. ❤️❤️❤️