Two nights ago, my son Aaron and I attended a local production of Shakespeare’s tragedy Richard III:
Aaron’s cousin Victoria did a great job acting in that tragedy, as did the young man playing Richard III.
Every tragedy is relative, isn’t it? Do you think the mistake Aaron and I noticed on the tickets is a tragedy?
The people who installed new insulation at our home in March have made several mistakes, including cutting into our TV cable, and destroying some of our shingles.
Is that a tragedy? Or just a hassle?
Some people in my high school class will not be able to attend our 45th reunion, which I am helping to plan. Is that a tragedy, that I won’t get to see them in September at this beautiful location?
Yesterday, I wrote about some difficult times and criticisms I’ve experienced. I’ll tell you what greatly reduced the tragedy of those memories, for me: people’s responses here on WordPress, plus words from my cousin Lani (from an email she sent me):
As you advise, deal with the positive, great things in your life and the hell with insensitive people and difficult situations.
It would be a great tragedy for me if I did not have the support of my readers and my wonderful cousin Lani.
This morning, I am going in to Tufts Medical Center to see Dr. Mark Estes, in order to prevent potential tragedies (like infection) from the recent pacemaker/defibrillator implantation surgery I had. As I wrote to Dr. Estes earlier this morning:
Better safe than sorry.
I don’t want to be tragically late for that early appointment, but I can show you some photos from yesterday, when I
- relaxed at my home,
- went for a walk with my long-time friend Barbara,
- met — over lunch — with my colleague and friend Maxine, to help prevent any possible tragedies when we both present workshops at a group therapy conference in June,
- drove my son to the last performance of Richard III,
- went food shopping with my boyfriend Michael, and
- watched the finale of Mad Men, with Aaron and Michael.
What tragedies, if any, do you see in these images?
Please consider it a compliment that I did my best to make this post coherent, this morning.
Before I go help my son get to school on time this Monday morning (which he very well may consider a tragedy), I need to decide what music to include in this Tragedy post.
How about this, which I heard yesterday?
That’s not so tragic, is it?
It would be a tragedy, to me, if I did not express gratitude to Aaron, Victoria, Brennan Miller (who played Richard III), Shakespeare, Matt Lundeen and the Arlington Children’s Theater, my wonderful WordPress readers, my cousin Lani, Barbara, Maxine, Michael, my high school class, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Mad Men, Dr. Estes, and everybody else who has made my life less of a tragedy, in so many ways.
The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally 
I like the cohesion and the pictures. As far as tragedy is concerned, it depends on your definition. A dramatic tragedy concerns the downfall of the main character, usually resulting from a fatal flaw in that person’s character. So Richard and William Shakespeare are of the hook. The normal use involves disaster, destruction, and distress. The shingle may come into that category. Jackie would say this is me being pedantic. I would say I’m just having fun. Thank you for the opportunity. 🙂
You are welcome. I find this a particularly non-tragic encounter.
🙂
Beautiful, thought-provoking post, Ann. But you lost me with the Nutella on the sidewalk – is there a deeper, hidden tragedy I’m missing in that?? lol Hope your appointment went well 🙂
I think the tragedy there is right on the surface, Nurse Kelly. My appointment went very well, indeed. Many thanks for the visit!
Thanks for clarifying! Glad to hear your appointment went well!
Perhaps the possible tragedy with the Nutella would be a passing snack-desiring stranger or wild animal that would get to it before you would. It should be in a higher place, just to be safe.
Loved your post, all of it. Every picture 🙂
Love every letter of this comment. It’s tragic that I did nothing, yesterday, to move that Nutella to a safer place.
I think you’re due for a comedy!
Me thinks ye olde foole is passing wise.
only in passing…
Lovely words and great photos, Ann. I love the mix-up of names on the tickets! I suppose they still served the same puropse, though. Congrats to Aaron’s cousin for the great performance and commiserations for suffering dodgy tradesmen – who are definitely to be found worldwide! It is a shame (tragedy, even) that some of your old schoolfriends won’t make the 45th reunion – but things might change between now and September. Fingers crossed. Hope the hospital appointment went well. 🙂
Thank you for your usual lovely words, Millie. My life is definitely feeling less tragic, now. And the hospital appointment went well!
I’m really glad to hear that.
I always think of Mel Brooks’s definition of tragedy and comedy: “Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.” It’s a bit of a comfort to know we’ll have to endure the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (wrong play, I know, but at least I wasn’t making the tickets) but that tragedy can be turned on its head into humor.
I always think of that, too, Christopher! Check out this post, from last month:
https://annkoplow.wordpress.com/2015/04/06/day-826-the-difference-between-tragedy-and-comedy/
Kitty looking out the window could end in tragedy for a bird if kitty got out, Nutella on the sidewalk is a tragedy for the person who gets home just ready to dig into it and finds it gone.
You are good at seeing the tragic AND the good around us, Lisa. Thank you.
Thank you Ann for saying so.
I hope everything went well at the doctor this morning.
Life is less of a tragedy when people care, like this, George! My doctor appointment went well. There is no infection; just continued healing, on schedule.
Great news!
To me, the Nutella seems to have fallen a little flat, Ann. The food served looks robust … the arm and hand waiting to eat it are on the thin side, meanwhile.
I think the insulation folks owe you an apology along with perfectly matched shingles and new cable wire.
Here’s what would be a tragedy, Mark: a day without a robust comment from you.
Sheep on the road ahead? That explains everything!
Another tragedy averted!
Mark! I’d almost forgotten that song — the Bee Gees’ Tragedy (of William III?) Thanks for posting. (Is it all right to dance to a song called Tragedy?)
I’d say it’s always a tragedy not to dance.
While not a tragedy, I’d certainly be unsettled by a ticket for Richard III that promised me a William instead. The rest of your post is thoroughly positive.
I’m glad I seemed throughly positive amidst so many tragedies, Hilary!
I hope this doesn’t spell out “tragedy”, I’m only trying to be helpful…
Yay! It’s comedy! Thanks, Maria.
Thanks to Mark for sharing the Beegees! Their song has been going round my head since I started reading this post.
When you can’t go on. There’s no one to love you. You’re going nowhere.
Now that’s tragedy!
… Everything else is just a shanda. 😉
Is it a tragedy or a shanda that I’m not really sure what a shanda is?
A shanda is a yiddish term often used by my ex mother in law. A disappointment or shame in others eyes.
That’s what I thought, Val … Is it a tragedy that I wasn’t more confident about that? Probably not. Thanks for explaining!
Any tragedy is softened a bit if there are cats. Oh, and good food.
Emilie! You are an expert on softening tragedies.
Bloody great photos as usual, Shakespeare, heard of him have never read any of his works
That’s a tragedy, Joanne. He’s really very good.
‘The Tragedy of Wiliam 111’, oh dear! ‘A Comedy of Errors’, but ‘Measure for Measure’, ‘Much To Do About Nothing’ and at least ‘All’s Well That Ends Well’ 🙂
As You Like It, Robert, I like it too!
Pingback: Day 944: Putting down weights | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally