My dear aunt, who finds flying monkeys unsettling, might be appalled to learn that I watched
The Wizard of Oz under her very roof the other evening.
I have seen the movie no less than 50 times, and I know the soundtrack well enough to be irritating. The tunes get caught in my head and ricochet about the deserted corridors of my mind. There are lovely pieces of writing—
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.
Whimsy bubbles through the puddles of imagination that we haven't let adulthood mar and we dream of our Neverland. It is a lovely movie, flying monkeys included, and it has a great message for viewers of all ages. Now, saying this, it is unfortunate that the patch of song currently replaying in my head goes something like this:
"As Coroner, I must aver,
I thoroughly examined her,
And she's not only MERELY dead,
She's really most SINCERELY dead."
