The Present, Past, and Future

"The past steps on the heels of the present, whether you like it or not," exclaims Sarah in Sarah, Plain and Tall. She is, of course, referring to how Jacob must deal with his past in order to move forward in his present. By trying to bury the past, he is actually clinging onto it. Sarah helps him to reconnect with his memories of the past and to remember their joys so that he can no longer be burdened by their pain. So that his children, too, can have the wholeness of being able to remember their mother even though she is gone.

The present is where we live now. And the future is for what we plan. The past, then, is what influences our present--and our future, too, I suppose, in so far as the actions we choose in the present affect our future. So it is interesting when we hear the warning not to live in the past. This is true: the only place we can actually live is the present, so it's best that we accept that. But a healthy relationship with the past includes an understanding of how the past affects the present, no?

In our example above, Jacob had fond memories of his wife. Anna had fond memories of her mother. And those were good things--things that could help inspire their characters in a positive way in the present. Anna, in particular, receives great comfort at being able to remember the mother she lost when she was so young. Being able to talk about what she does remember gives her stability in her present. She knows that loss can happen in the blink of an eye again, but she also knows that nothing can take away the good memories she cherishes with those she loves.

It follows in all sorts of ways--that concept of the past's influence on the present. A doctor is able to perform his role because of the time he spent in the past in school and in his residency. A child works to get a good grade because he knows from the past that his parents celebrate with him when he does. That's the past, present, and future all entangled into one. You see, it's learning from our past that teaches us to consider our future in the actions we take in the present. That's The Lion King, isn't it? Rafiki hitting Simba with his staff to show him that the past can still hurt but we can choose to learn from it--thereby prompting Simba to take action and return home to heal the wounds of the past. 

The only place where we can live is the present. And yet it is all quite a tangled web with the past and future, anyway, isn't it? 

Thoughts on the Sarah Trilogy

For whatever reason, my family always enjoyed a good 19th century film. The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Black Beauty, Little Women, and Oliver Twist, for instance. I think we were all discovering them together and that we all had an innate interest in that time period. One of our other favorites took place just after the turn of the century: the Sarah, Plain and Tall trilogy.

These are old Hallmark films--that is, they're from the 90's, which makes them old in comparison to the newer movies that play on their channel nowadays. And while most of those newer movies are trite to the point that I can't even watch most of them, Sarah, Plain and Tall is quite beautiful in its straightforward simplicity (granted, it was part of the Hallmark Hall of Fame series, so its production received more attention than that of a standard TV movie). Of course, it also helps that the movies are based on a wonderful set of books by Patricia MacLachlan, who helped write the film scripts.

There is a specific and recognizable tone to this story, in both book and movie form. At first it's pleasant and enjoyable, the story of a family on a farm--and then you begin to see so many more layers. The depth that I begin to see in this trilogy is so powerful, even more so because it's essentially just a simple children's or family story. For all the discoveries that you make along the way, you always know why there is the feeling of depth: it is because this story displays life.

In particular, the second installment, Skylark, speaks to me. As Sarah questions the choice she made to leave her home by the ocean to live on the prairie and comes to realize how much love she has for her new family, she reminds us of all sorts of life choices. Moving, not moving, relationships in the past and in the present, career changes, personal quests--and the seeking or finding of meaning. I suppose the question is, what fulfills you? What will make you wake up in the morning and be glad? What tasks will you be ready and willing to start on? What do you want to choose to spend your days doing? And why? How will that make you feel at the end of the day? Daily life--it is daily life that holds the power.

It is daily life that is the most difficult and the most wonderful. And it is through daily life that changes small and great, good and bad, come. So let's remember to focus on building our daily lives--in the many ways in which you can interpret that phrase.

A Prairie Trilogy

There's something about the Sarah, Plain and Tall movie trilogy that gives off a positive feeling. It's a prairie story filled with heart in a subtle way. Although I considered it, I never got around to reading the books by Patricia MacLachlan, likely because even by the time I was watching the movies I was already above the books' age group. But as we readers all know, age group shouldn't matter--not when a book is good. 

The first book is a mere sixty pages, the second and third ones each a little longer. I somehow, however, ended up spreading out the reading of the first book over the longest period of time, whereas I finished the last book within one day. So they are short enough to be friendly for younger readers. But there's a quote in the second book, Skylark, that also made it into the movie that I find applies well to how these books are written. It's the quote about when Sarah read Jacob's letters and fell in love with what was between the lines. That's how these books are: plain and simple, yet vastly poetic and heartfelt words. 

The basic premise is a family whose mother died when the son was born. About six years later, the father puts an add in the paper for a wife; Sarah comes from Maine to their farm. The time period is what, 30 or 40 years after Little House on the Prairie? So it's a prairie story, but slightly more modern and less focused on describing the setting. It's more about the characters. The first book maintains a very simple and sweet plot.

I enjoyed the second one most. The pull between lands, the dry prairie and green Maine, creates a poignant personal and cultural conflict. As someone living in a harsh landscape that I have also come to love, this was something I could really relate to. It's also a theme that develops any time a person finds a new home.

Caleb's Story, which in the movie version is called Winter's End, moves the perspective from Anna to Caleb. Like the other two books, it's much like the movie, minus certain details. The movies fleshed out conversations and such, especially between Sarah and Jacob. In this story, the focus moves back to storytelling, words, and creation; as Caleb takes over keeping the family records, he discovers what these mean. And so does the reader.

These books are refreshing. Nothing is overdone, everything matters, and you're left with a feeling of contentment--whether you're in elementary school or long out of school.