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Being Married II

My husband has a crush, and it's Andrew Lloyd Webber.

He now sends tweets to Sir Andrew. Over the weekend, Andrew told his many fans that his cat had died--roadside accident....And my husband wrote to express sorrow over A's "lost kitty."

When my husband shows me a tweet like this, there's a crazy look in his eyes, as if he is begging me to talk him down from the ledge. "I did it, I did it," he says, with defiance, but he also seems to be saying, Can you calm me down???

When T.S. Eliot released his cat poems, a crabby lady from St. Louis wrote to complain. And T.S. Eliot answered in verse: a long, rambling poem about how cats are wonderful, and how there isn't a worthier subject for literature. My husband read this poem to me, in its entirety, then did twenty minutes of research on the crabby lady from St. Louis.

Watching "Cats," Friday, I had moments of epiphany. For example, I was certain that Terrence Mann, in the original Broadway production, had earned a Tony nomination for being the Rum Tum Tugger. And I was wrong. Nominations went to Munkustrap--Munkustrap, of all cats!--and to Bustopher Jones. Yes! Look it up!

Also, who remembers how prominent the Rum Tum Tugger is? He has that song about how he likes to fuck, yes--but did you know that he is also one of the narrators of "Old Deuteronomy"? Startling.

My husband really would like to know when the next Broadway "Cats" revival will occur; I'm not sure how to say, The last one just happened....and no one attended.....So....

"I think I like this show more than 'Phantom of the Opera,'" says my husband, apropos of nothing. "It speaks to my soul." That said, I do sometimes hear my husband in the shower, over the crashing of the water drops: "Sing OOOONCE AGAAAAAIN with me! Our STRAAAANGE duet!!!!"

It's important to have an obsession, especially in these trying times. I respect Marc's new interests, and I really wish that Andrew Lloyd Webber would write back to him. Maybe someday. Andrew has announced the conclusion of "The Shows Must Go On," a retrospective tour of his career. You can rest assured there has been some serious mourning in this household. Even in darkness, though, there is light. If I run out to do an errand, I can be certain to return home to the sight of my singing husband, and my deeply puzzled child: "And we all say.....Oh well! I never! Was there ever....a cat so clever as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees????"

And that's life--in our house. Happy Monday.

*P.S. When I say "apropos of nothing," I don't intend to be mean. A passion is something that simply pops up when it pops up. For example, I myself often bring up Taylor Swift--apropos of nothing. I wouldn't have it any other way!
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