Mare of Easttown Week 6

Mare of Easttown is, among other things, a show about grief. It seems like everybody in that town is mourning something. More specifically, it’s a show about parents grieving their children.

 

Mare Sheehan never really grieved for her son, her therapist points out. She was the one who cut him down from the rafters in the attic, and I don’t know how the hell you come back from that. Mare buries herself in other people’s grief, and that grief (which has so many sources) hangs like low clouds over that town. Siobhan, who actually found Kevin, is at least doing something more productive with her grief by way of making a video about her brother, but she still has unresolved anger at her mother. “It should have been you,” she yells.

 

Colin Zabel’s mother is grieving her son, working through that by slapping Mare twice. Dawn’s daughter is safe at home with her but she’s still grieving, since it will take some time before Katie processes her kidnapping. Kenny is grieving Erin—he was emotionally abusive to her and ended up in jail but he’s still mourning. Bethie is grieving her brother Freddie, who came to a sad end with a needle in his arm in an unheated house (the visible breath in the air was a subtle touch). Dylan’s parents may be soon be grieving for their son because even if he didn’t kill Erin, he’s still in a heap of trouble for pointing a gun at Jess, not to mention whatever ominous things connects the two of them. Billy’s father may already be starting to mourn his son after he confessed to killing Erin.

 

Carrie almost had to grieve her son Drew. The episode already set up Carrie as sleep-deprived and the way they shot the bathtub scene was full of foreboding and then she falls asleep and oh my God the baby is face down in the water but then he comes up for air because he was just playing a game and JESUS CHRIST, MARE OF EASTTOWN, DON’T DO THAT TO US AGAIN. Seriously, don’t do that.

 

Billy has confessed to John, after many bottles of Yuengling, to both fathering DJ during a family reunion in the Poconos and to later killing Erin. That Billy killed her hit so much harder than it would have if a random character did it (like the writer), and it plays to Mare’s strength at showing the bonds between people in the community. It carries real weight, as did John’s chilling request for Lori never to tell anyone. I was glad Lori didn’t keep it a secret. I like Lori and it would be an unfair burden to hide this information from her friend, not to mention obstruction of justice.

 

But I don’t think it’s cut-and-dry that Billy killed her. There’s one more twist left in this show: What is in the photo Jess showed to the police? What sordid little detail will it add to this sad story? Billy confessed, but is he just a scapegoat?

 

And what happens when Mare gets to the lake house? It was almost funny to see her not only disregard the chief’s instruction not to follow them but speed up, because of course Mare won’t listen. Unless Billy is going to shoot fish with Chekov’s gun, there’s going to be some trouble at the crick. Did John put the gun in the tackle box and is he going to kill his brother to bury the secret? Why else would he tell his wife to keep the secret right before taking Billy to the lake house before turning himself in?

 

Here’s my wild theory: John killed Erin. Billy helped dispose of the body while blackout drunk (hence the bloody shirt) and believes he killed her, subtly convinced by John. John’s going to kill Billy at the lake house. He told Lori not to tell anyone because he was counting on Lori telling Mare Billy killed Erin, but Billy will be dead (maybe of a staged suicide) and nobody will be able to disprove the story. Easttown will remember this as a sad story of a man who killed a young girl after fathering her child and then dying himself by suicide, just another sad thing to happen in that town.

 

One thing on Delco this week: Do we drop our G’s that much? I notice a lot of the characters do, and I heard a “sumpin” this week. I don’t know that Delco-area people do that any more than people in other areas.

 

You know what? The accents are fun but I don’t even care as much as I did. The show is just too good.

  

Mare of Easttown Accent Critique Week 5

Well, that was rough. Rougher than a Monday morning commute on the Blue Route between exits 3 and 9 (just to add some local Delco color). Poor Colin Zabel. I really liked Evan Peters’ performance here as well as his spot-on accent and accurate impression of a drunk townie.

 

The signs were all there that Zabel would die: The understanding between him and Mare leading to a kiss, his mother implying Mare was trouble, the confession that he didn’t solve that case in Upper Darby. But I didn’t see it coming.

 

Everyone continues to have their Delco-O’s down, with Mare’s talk with her therapist all “diagnoese” and “coepe” and “hoepe.” I could reiterate that I’m hoping for more of the “A” sound or the multisyllabic “yieahh” or “noewuh” but what’s the point? It’s not like the actors will read this and adjust; the show is already in the can. Maybe the rest of these reviews should focus a little more on the show?

 

Anyway, plenty of heartbreak this week. Mare’s conversation with her therapist linking her father’s suicide with her son’s and asking if suicide runs in the family (sadly, yes) was devastating. Also devastating was her lack of awareness that she is a very depressed person. Kate Winslet (one of my favorite actors) has just been so, so good—I loved the fear she communicated when they realized they were confronting the women’s kidnapper. 

 

Did anyone else’s stomach lurch when they thought Lori’s husband had molested their son and Lori was implying it had happened before? I never thought I’d be relieved to find out it was just an affair.

 

Plenty of amusement this week, too. It was nice to see Mare get a good laugh at her mom having an affair with the widower. Of course, Helen comes back with a “What kinda smacked-aehiss makes that kind of announcement at his wife’s funeral reception?” Her “Jesus, Mare” prompted a reflexive “and Joseph” from me.

 

Plenty of local color, too, with the tour of the different home styles of Delco while they searched for the kidnapper. There were Wawa hoeagie wrappers on the cawfee table, a mention of Pennell Road (flashbacks to my commute to Neumann), and Bryn Mawr used as a class signifier.

 

Which diner is that? It definitely wasn’t Llanerch because it was too big and the color was wrong. The pastry display reminded me of the Country Squire but I don’t know if that’s right. Of course, it’s not like I know every diner in the area. They should have just made it Tom Jones. I would have shrieked if I saw that orange décor.

 

The kidnapped women are free but we still don’t know who killed Erin. I don’t even want to guess because I never see anything coming so I’m bad at guessing these things. I’m very much enjoying Mare of Easttown. It’s really good at depicting an area where everybody knows everybody else and that’s very true of Delaware County. I haven’t lived there in 15 years but it’s still so easy to play the “who do you know” game with someone else and find some connection with a stranger.

We’ll get the next one!

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up there a minute, Dale Earnhardt. Just because the traffic light up ahead just turned green, that doesn’t mean you need to just, like, drive towards it. There are a number of things you need to think about when approaching a green light. Let’s just all slow down, take a deep breath, and think about it.

 

In these situations, it’s best to see a green light like a spitting cobra: If you approach too quickly, the cobra will unleash its venom and kill you. So even if there’s no traffic ahead of you, and the light will stay green long enough for you to pass through it (perhaps confirmed by a digital countdown), there’s no need to be hasty about it. It’s better to kind of hang back and see what happens; if that cobra really will strike.

 

One does not simply react and depress the gas pedal when a light turns green. There’s a whole decision tree you should go through while cars are waiting behind you. You want to slowly and carefully drive up to the light, but slow down as you get closer. The last thing you want is for that light to turn yellow as you drive through the intersection. The legal penalties for running a yellow light are like $5,000 and six months in prison.

 

See, usually, when a traffic light ahead turns green and there’s no traffic in front of your car, it’s too good to be true. That’s why you need to drive well under the speed limit in preparation for traffic that is not yet there but may materialize.

 

After all, that light will be red so it’s prudent to prepare, like storing up food for the winter. Of course, the light may turn red on you while you were crawling up to it—a light you otherwise could have made if you’d driven a reasonable speed. Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Well, making this light just wasn’t meant to be.

 

Drivers behind you might get irate at you because if you had driven at a normal speed, they might have also made that green light. Don’t worry about them—disarm them with a smile! Just lean out the window and wave at these people, and through a smile, say, “It’s fine! We’ll get the next one!”

Deaditor

When I die, whatever you do, make sure there is an en dash on my grave. Not for the editor a simple hyphen to mark the range between birth and death. No, make sure they hit option + hyphen (or whatever the equivalent for carving granite) when they memorialize me.

 

Be sure to put periods in R.I.P. since it’s an acronym that spells out a word. Otherwise, that tender “Rest in Peace” becomes simply, “Rip Brian McCurdy.”

 

Also, it’s “Here lies,” not “lays.” I didn’t spend decades with a red pen for a mistaken transitive verb to mark my final resting place.

 

Just please, be sure of that en dash—eg, 1974­–2072, or however long I lingered here, correcting “less” into “fewer” and pointing out who implies and who infers. I will be at peace if you honor me with that one simple mark of punctuation.

 

(And don’t go nuts and do an em dash, either.)

Mare of Easttown Accent Critique Week 4

Poor Helen Fahey. After putting up last week with her daughter’s giant aehisshoele mood, and this week with Mare’s complete smacked-aehiss plan to plant heroin on her grandson’s mother, she just wants a little time alone with her secret pint of Häagen-Dazs and a beer. Then her granddaughter’s ex-girlfriend knocks up and Helen does the girl a kindness by letting her wait in the basement for Siobhan. Then Siobhan and her new girlfriend come home to hook up, which freaks out the ex, and Helen gets a door slammed in her face and ends up in the hospital.

 

She’s sorry she’s not more maimed for Mare.

 

Actually, it’s Mary Ann, as her mother offers the first glimpse of Mare’s given name. Mary Ann Fahey Sheehan. What with all the intrigue with the priest, it looks like most of this case is Irish Catholic to hell and back. It’s Delco, after all.

 

Kate Winslet is still doing pretty well but there were some weak spots this week. Her “awesome” and “out” didn’t have much Delco to them, and her “yeah” was just one syllable. The mentions of “pawrk” and “cawr” were good.

 

Mare also said “Saturdaaay.” As we from Delco call it, it should be “Saturdee.” As in, “Yous goewin aowt Saturdee nieght?”

 

Plenty of local color this week, and I understand some scenes were filmed in Chester, Marcus Hook and Upper and Lower Chi. Zabel was drinking Yuengling and Mare was eating Herr’s potato chips. (Don’t even try to serve me Lays or some other vile nonsense. It’s Herr’s or I go hungry.) Was that a Giant logo I saw on some frozen food in Helen’s freezer?

 

I thought I saw the Commodore Barry Bridge, and the scene where they were walking outside kind of looked like the Media Courthouse, but I’m not sure. Also, there was the Rocky Run ambulance, a framed Daily Times article, and one of the characters goes to Sun Valley High School.

 

One note was really off: Local News 9. What the hell is that? Is that a real channel? I have no idea because for 40 years, the Action News blue background has been synonymous with “news” for me. It’s the only news station I’ve really watched. If they really want an authentic Delco experience, they’ll have the Action News theme blaring in the background on somebody’s TV, and just watch as everyone in the Delaware Valley nods along in Pavlovian recognition.

Mare of Easttown Accent Critique Week 3

Three episodes into Mare of Easttown, I finally heard it—“asshole,” pronounced not as most of the country does as “aahhshole” but as we do in the Greater Delco area: “aehisshole.” This was Helen Fahey fighting with her daughter Mare and saying, “She’s in a giant asshole mood tonight!”

 

I always thought the word “asshole” the way we say it here was emblematic of our accent. Hearing someone from the Philadelphia area yell “Hey, aehisshole!” at you is much more effective at threatening than someone from Nevada or wherever yell “Hey, aahhshole!” And we should be proud of that.

 

How do you even write this stuff out phonetically? I read someone say the Delco accent is like speaking with a smile the whole time and it’s kind of true. People in normal parts of the country say words like “ass” with their mouths more vertical, while we say it with our mouths horizontal, like we’re smiling—which is kind of lovely, isn’t it? With words like “no,” normal people sort of purse their mouths, while we kind of grimace and say the word in two syllables: “Noe-wah.”

 

Anyway, Jean Smart showed off her acquired Delco accent pretty well this week. Her “abaowt” and “figure aowt” were pretty good. Her “Oe-wah, cut it aowt, Mare! Jesus Christ!” was as Delco as Skate Odyssey. Her pronunciation of “Haverford” seemed weird. I think that’s a word we would all say the same regardless of accent.

 

The MVP of accents this week was Evan Peters. Zabel’s Delco comes AOWT when he’s drunk, hitting on Mare and getting weepy about the future and the case he solved as a county detective in Upper Darby. (Unless things have changed since I was a reporter, I don’t believe Delaware County has a police force. There’s park police but they wouldn’t solve a murder.) Zabel was heavily into the “O” sound. I liked his “gets in his cawr” talk. He was completely convincing as somebody you’d see in a bar in Ridley or somewhere.

 

Kate Winslet was good again on accents but there was a discrepancy. She said “pass code” with the “paahs” in the more generic American accent, while “coede” was in the Delco talk. This brings me back to words like “ass.” People in the Philadelphia area say words like “bad” and “mad” not with the open mouth of the rest of the country, but with more that grimace. The exception is “sad,” which we say like everybody else, not rhyming it with “mad” or “bad.” Winslet’s “house” also needs a dash of Delco. It’s “haowse.”

 

With all the cell phone shenanigans this week, there were a lot of “phoene” repetitions. With those firearms dogs from the county, there was also a lot of “cawl aowt the dawgs,” which was accurate.

 

I’m trying to see if I can spot any local places and I’m drawing a blank. I don’t recognize the park. Did I mishear or are they calling it Brandywine Park? I associate that with Delaware but I guess there could be another Brandywine Park further up the crick. I don’t recognize St. Michael’s or that bar. Still, there’s plenty of local flavor, with Frank passed out drunk under that Eagles blanket that everybody around here has.

Weeds

Even the weeds have their seasons.

 

As spring sputters to a start, those little purple heads pop up tentatively, to see if April is really April.

 

As May crams full with Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, the green leaves cram my garden, invidiously. I tear through them with some resentment that nothing I can do will exorcise them.

 

Little helicopters crash to the ground in time for my birthday.

 

By Fourth of July, the weeds evolve until clawing out of the ground, maliciously, their green a thick thatch that cannot be easily disposed of.

 

The weeds fade and find their phases like daffodils, geraniums and dahlias. Even the ugliest part of creation still has its distinct character.