Monthly Archives: January 2017
One of my all-time favorite actresses is Julie Andrews. I’ll save you the trouble of Googling to see if 2016 took her, too. Fortunately, at 82 years young, she’s still with us. While she appeared in a number of iconic films, one holds a special place in my heart, Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music. As far as I’m concerned, everything about this film is amazing, from the masterful performances of Andrews in the role of Maria and her co-stars – particularly Christopher Plummer as the dashing Captain VonTrapp and Peggy Wood as the ever sage Mother Superior – to the infectious tunes that provide the movie’s soundtrack.
Perhaps my favorite scene in The Sound of Music is the one where Maria first travels to the VonTrapp estate from the familiar confines of the convent, where she thought she’d live out the rest of her days.
“What will this day be like? I wonder. What will my future be?” she asks, her voice a mixture of uncertainty and eagerness. As she approaches the palatial home and prepares herself to meet “a Captain with seven children” she ponders “what’s so fearsome about that?” and sets off with renewed confidence.
It’s an inspiring instance of resolution and determination that tells the audience what sort of person Maria is, during which their view of her shifts from flighty and scatterbrained to confident and composed.
For me, however, the most motivational part of this scene is at the beginning, when Maria exits the convent, bags in tow, and prepares to leave behind the only life she’s ever known.
As the gates of the abbey close behind her, Maria says, appropriately, “When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.”
My first viewing of the film was in 1984, so long ago that my grandmother actually rented a VCR from our local Kroger grocery store so we could watch the movie on VHS. (That’s right, I said “rented” as, at the time, most working class people couldn’t afford to own VCRs.)
In the years since, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve held on to that sentiment, that when God closes a door, somewhere a window opens. I uttered it to myself the day I left my hometown at the tender age of 22, filled with anticipation of the possibilities that awaited me in California, Pennsylvania. I repeated the phrase over a decade later, when I made another earth moving change. Only a couple of months ago, I had to say “Au Revoir” to a place I considered my second home for 16 years, and as that door closed behind me for the last time, I kept in mind the thought of the window that’s opened for me again and again, just when I’ve needed to set my sights on something new.
If you’re reading this, you’re looking through my personal window. Thank you, and don’t mind the dust! With the shift from bimonthly to monthly, we’re adding lots of awesome, original content as well as expanding our current offerings. One example has been a marked increase in event listings. Looking for something to do, close to home, in January or early February? We’ve got you covered.
2016 was a challenging year for a lot of people in myriad ways. Maybe it was a good year for you, maybe not. Maybe you’ve had doors close behind you, too, and you’ve found yourself searching for an open window. May 2017 be a year of renewal for you, of change and new beginnings.
Speaking of new beginnings, this issue is dedicated to those who have set off on innovative courses, just as the ever cheerful Maria did in The Sound of Music. May confidence, too, be their guide!
Until next month, Carla E. Anderton