Large Fierce Mammal

Of my own Mother, I once wrote:

My Mother, Evelyn, taught me to read, sound out words I didn’t know, spell (including my own full name and those of both Parents, the names of all the major African animals, as well as those of what I considered the most interesting dinosaurs), count forward and backward to and from 100, recite the alphabet forward and backward, perform basic mathematical functions, and tell time; all before the age of 5. So much to be described in one sentence, for the value of these alone could fill a tome.

She taught me the importance of personal hygiene and the all important feminine take on what is and is not representative of Gentlemanly conduct. That manners are paramount. That only in the gravest extreme does one call at meal times, by phone or in person, and that should the matter at hand require it, under no circumstances should an offer to join the table be accepted, even under threat of your own imminent death by starvation. That soiled clothing is no disgrace if the dirt was acquired in an honourable pursuit and the task is still at hand, but one is clean and well turned out in all respects before coming to the table, and a step beyond that if the table isn’t your own. That a Woman’s self-respect shall be mirrored by the Man who escorts her, and by her appearance and demeanor she will make him proud to have her at his side. That a couple present a unified presence before others and resolve their disagreements privately. That there is no such thing in a marriage as “his money” and “her money”, only Family money.

My Mother was an exemplary cook and justifiably proud of her culinary skills, regarding them as important among the Womanly Arts as the ability to walk correctly in high heels – another skill in which she excelled. She taught the importance for a Man to know how to cook, and to mend his own clothes.

My Mother had a pathological fear of amphibians and reptiles – most particularly snakes – and I was a boy possessed of extreme scientific curiosity that encompassed a fascination in anything that lived under rocks and logs, and in bogs, forests, or meadows. And yet she encouraged my keeping live specimens provided that they were properly cared for and released to the Wild again before Summer’s end. I learned much from them, and only later how much courage this required on her part.

Lest that leave you, Goode Reader, with the impression that my relationship with my own Mother was one of unconditional love and sweet devotion, I will pause to point out it was nothing of the sort. My Mother was unassailable in the Truth of everything I said about her, but no Woman is of a piece, and for all that was laudable, throughout my adult life until the day she died, we lived in a state of what I will call stable semi-estrangement. The details are of no consequence tonight.

Much has been written of the fraught thing that is the relationship between mothers and daughters. Tonight’s Dark Sentiment is about the same equation using the son variable.

Here we have two outcomes of that equation — one from the perspective of a relationship wherein there is a limit to nothing, and another in which a hard limit figures prominently. I will leave it to you, Goode Reader, to decide for yourself which is which.

The still images that appear below are illustrative screen grabs from the films rather than the usual click and play because, unfortunately, their creators will not permit their work to be embedded in such joints as this. Both productions were created by students at Filmakademie Baden-Württemberg GmbH.

First is Harald, produced in 2013 as a “project of the month”. To say any more right now would ruin the surprise, so let’s let the next 6 minutes and 32 seconds deliver the tale as it was meant to be. Click ——-> here.

Next is Urs, being 10 minutes well worth spending from 2009. Click ——-> here.