I watched the Great Gatsby last night, for the second time in a week. The 1974 version. It’s one of my favorite movies, although I’m always sad for days after watching it. The old music is great! I love What’ll I Do? and When We Were Only Seventeen. I have the book, and have read it, but watching a young Robert Redford in the starring role is much more exciting than sitting with a book in my lap for days. Sam Waterston is superb in the role of Nick Carraway, too!
When I visited my daughter a couple of weeks ago in NC, she loaned me her newest Nicholas Sparks book, The Longest Ride. No doubt, it’ll be a New York Times bestseller, as most of his books are. I read that eleven are on that list, and eight have been major motion pictures. With more than 85 million copies of his books sold, I’d say Nick is definitely doing something right!
But after reading the new one for only a short while, I'm afraid I spoiled it for myself last night.
Read the ending!
I always do that. Can’t help myself. I really don’t have the time to read all that background and description that seems to go on forever, to get to the bottom line, especially when I know already that this particular author’s books all end the same way: the hero or heroine dies! Always!
Got a flu shot two days ago and my arm is still sore, red and swollen, but I’m the envy of my grandchildren. Why?
‘Cause I’m sporting a Snoopy Band-aid. Mr. H. has one, too. As our youngest daughter used to say, “We’re two-together!”
And life goes on...