Magnolia Moments

Underneath the magnolia tree the dead leaves gather like some leaf burial ground.
Once a deep, Scarlet's picnic dress green, they are now brown and curled up along the edges like small boats. If dropped in a creek or pool of water, they could easily float.

As a child, I used to pretend these leafy vessels were floating in some heart of dark, darkness. The impression must have been stirred from the only VHS my grandmother kept in her house, a copy of "The African Queen."
She was a huge Humphrey Bogart fan.
"He's old!" I used to protest.
"He's dreamy..." she would object. "And he wasn't always 'old', you know."

We would drink hot cokes from the can and watch Bogart fight against the fiery Katherine Hepburn. Somehow the pair ended up loving each other at the end.
I assumed, at the time, this was how all boy-girl relationships resulted--in love.

Every time my grandmother took a sip of her coke, she would let out a raspy, extended "ahhhh," as if each individual gulp was a refreshing experience.

I've since realized that Bogart was perpetually old, no matter the circa: forehead wrinkled, eyes droopy, a tired sort of grin.
He didn't share the youthful essence of a Jimmy Stewart or Fred Astaire.
Now I understand the dreamy qaulity with which he grabs Ingrid Bergman's shoulders and speaks those immortal words: "The problems of three people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world."

It was just like the humble, stalwart Bogart to point out an ironic truth. Audiences so desperatley wanted the star-crossed, Paris-lovers to forsake duty and country and run off together into that smoky sound stage beyond.
Meanwhile, the real world was falling to pieces; WWII an unavoidable reality.

Still, "We'll always have Paris" simply never cut it for me.
It raises an inevitable question: are memories enough?

As the character Sally argued to Harry on their 18 hour drive to New York in "When Harry Met Sally," perhaps Ingrid didn't in her heart of hearts want to stay:

Harry: Of course she wants to stay. Wouldn't you rather be with Humphrey Bogart than the other guy?
Sally: I don't want to spend the rest of my life in Casablanca married to a man who runs a bar. That probably sounds very snobbish to you, but I don't.
Harry: You'd rather be in a passionless marriage -
Sally: - and be the First Lady of Czechoslovakia -
Harry: - than live with the man... you've had the greatest sex of your life with, just because he owns a bar and that is all he does.
Sally: Yes, and so would any woman in her right mind. Women are very practical. Even Ingrid Bergman, which is why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie.

I love that scene.

Despite the piano's haunting melody and the way the moonlight cuts through the blinds against the walls; despite the warmth of a moment past....we all have to realize sooner or later that we cannot stay in Casablanca.

Sometimes, we have to leave the past behind; being happy enough with the memory of simply wonderful.

Besides, as Sam reminded us, love will replay itself--like the VHS on my grandmother's televison--as time goes by.