Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I don’t know why those who swoon over “Es muss sein,” sneer at “It is what it is.” The latter is just Beethoven at the kitchen table, wiping strudel off his chin.
What is done is done. Shakespeare wrote that. And just in case we were confused – saying, wait, wait, I don’t get it -- he clarified with, What is done cannot be undone.
So let it be known right now, I’m slapping my name on, What is can’t be isn’t, and, That which was isn't wasn’t.
They’re all mean verbs, anyway; ones that scowl, crack a whip, and hold kangaroo court. They admit no reason because they are the reason, and allow for no extenuating circumstances.
I prefer the pillowy verbs, the helping verbs -- the patient ones that need a friend. The coulds and woulds. They’re accommodating, and, as far as possible, allow going backwards and forwards in time. They only ask for a little direction, and don't mind if they have to wait awhile – your choice, your death, or eternity … whichever comes first.