I think the cruel part of April has passed.
It’s Shakespeare’s birth (we assume) and death day and everything in the Northeast Corridor of the US is in rich, new green and bloom.
Today marks the end of a year of around the world celebrations of the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death. Somewhat maudlin, but I’m sure in 2064 (I’m guessing I will not be here) they will make a big deal about his 500th anniversary of his birth.
And plus, Shakespeare never really died, did he? Even while living he had a deep sense of the immortality of stories and words. He knew, for example, that in writing about his beloved’s beauty, he assured her (or his?) immortality:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st
Nor shall Death brag thou wand’rest in his shade
When to eternal lines in time thou grow’st
(Sonnet 18)
Stories–unlike people and even the mementos they leave behind–live forever. And it is awe-inspiring to see how Shakespeare’s stories not only live, but continue to engender new offspring.
While today officially closes the 400th year, I suspect the Shakespeare World is just getting started. Witness the American Shakespeare Center’s committment to commission 38 new riffs on Shakespeare’s works over the next 20 years.
Happy Birthday, Shakespeare, and thanks for everything.
As my father always said, I’m glad you were born.
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