Dear Scarlett

Dear Scarlett,

     I am writing you to let know the change I am making.  This is a big change for me and I hope you won’t be terribly hurt by it. 

     As you know, when I first saw your story on the big screen, I was a teenager about the same age as you were when your biography began.  I had never before seen a movie or read a book that did not have a happy ending.   For the entire second half of your movie, I bawled my eyes and heart out.  Somehow, I identified with you because we were the same age and both had dark brown hair; after that, all similarities ended.   I thought that the movie was so well acted and the characters were so real that I could not believe it was fiction.  I ached for days for the horrible choices you made and felt genuine sadness at the pitiable condition your selfishness created for you and the other people in your life.  There was so much for me to learn about people and choices and life at that time. Some of it, I learned through you.

     Then, after empathizing with you so much at the theater, that summer I decided to read your book.  The book was one that I literally one I could not put down.  So instead of bawling for 2 solid hours to the point of being sick, I cried for 6 solid hours as I read your story and became immersed in it.  Again, I was practically ill from the pain of the story.  Thus, I declared at 16, that your story was my all-time favorite book and movie.  The quality of the writing was amazing and the characters were so well-done. Everything seemed so real.

     Your story was one that I referred to a lot in talking and thinking.  Emotional experiences tend to stick with you for a very long time.  I may have sat through the entire show one or two more times in the decades that followed.  I am not sure.  I was such a fan that I sought you out in Atlanta, the home of your biographer.  There are several museums that are about you and your story. I just had to visit them.  My husband-to-be even gave me a romantic card of Rhett kissing you when we were engaged.

     For decades, I continued to claim that GWTW was my favorite book and movie.  Then, a few years ago, we got cable TV and your story was readily available.  I would smile when I thought that I could watch it, but, then, when it came right down to it, I did not want to watch it.  I could not watch it.  There was just too much pain associated with your story. 
     Two days ago, it was on cable a number of times and it was on even two different channels at the same time.  My husband wanted to watch it and wanted me to watch it with him.  Somehow, I could not sit there and observe your shameful actions.  I ache for you but I don’t want to see your story again.  The only way I would ever want to watch your story again is as an object lesson to a teenager, maybe a grandchild, someday.

    Another person,whose story begins when he was a teenager, is David, the son of Jesse.  His story is full of shameful, selfish actions that hurt many people; but he turned his heart to God  when he erred and that made all the difference.  Your story, on the other hand, ends when Rhett, who once really cared about you, walks away and states, rather finally, using shocking words for that day and age, that he no longer cares. Your story ends the way a story would for someone incapable of true repentance and totally immersed in self as you were. Once you finally understood, it was too late.

    I realize, as a person seeking joy, I can no longer say that your story is my favorite book or movie.  I will have to choose something more positive and uplifting. I cannot even stand to watch it.  Frankly, Scarlett, I do not care any more. (Okay, maybe, just a little...)      

                                                                        A Former Sympathizer

Transplant Joy

      When I first met Joy, she was a transplant from Pasadena, California, but she was really just a young, small town Ohio, girl who had lived in California for a while and ran out of money.  She sat in the middle of a large auditorium, where our church met, all alone.  (If she was shy and backward, she would, definitely, not have sat in the middle.  She would have sat in the back or on the sides.)

     It was easy to spot her as a newcomer. She had a little bit of the “hippie” look with a long flowing skirt, loose clothes on her thin frame, long curly brown hair pulled back with clips, huge green eyes with dark eye lashes  and big wire-rimmed glasses.  Right from the beginning, she was direct, articulate, funny and a little sarcastic. She was always an adventure to talk to from day one, so we would talk and talk and talk.

      I love the adventure of meeting new people.  I enjoy the challenge and excitement of discovering people and getting to know them. It was not unlike me to be one of the first to meet someone new: I just like meeting people.  After a while, though, my part in the adventure would be over and they would make other new friends.   “…and the beat goes on…”

     With Joy, the Transplant, it was different.  She loved Columbus and all the things that our group of single friends enjoyed.  She was an adventurous girl and all of us, in those glorious days of the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s, had a myriad of adventures on a shoestring, of course.   She and I kept talking and talking. 

     When she was transplanted, again, to Cleveland to get married, she always missed the great times she had in Columbus.  The adventure kept going, somehow, because we talked and talked. 

      She tried many times to move back to Columbus, but it never worked out. She has now been away for 28 years.  Her grown daughter moved to Columbus, two of her sisters and many friends reside here, but the Transplant could not make moving back here happen for her.  So, we talked and talked.

     She decided to find adventure in her city, Cleveland: to bloom where she was planted.  She started a blog that is an adventure to read! [www.itsajoyfuljourney.wordpress.com, (A Sojourner’s Guide to the Mistake on the Lake)] It is a delightful journal of a baby boomer trying to find joy in Cleveland and trying to see something familiar with new eyes.  Now, besides talking and talking, she is writing and writing.  I highly recommend this blog, because it is direct, articulate, funny and a little bit sarcastic, just like the blogger. (She is now a trim, blonde with smooth hair. She wears no glasses and has trendy and classic clothes.  She even has a good job and two grown daughters.)

     As I reflect on my friendship with Joy, I realize that the adventures that we shared were more about conversation than anything else. (I think that is the essence of a lot of my friendships.)   The adventure was in the conversation, the communication, the talking…and the listening…The adventure was not going somewhere new, but in learning something new about a another person.   It was found in sharing something about ourselves, too, because as we open up to someone we refine and sharpen our own ideas and self-image. “Iron sharpens iron; so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.”