the-rose

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Weighing nearly one ton, The Rose by Jay DeFeo is one of the most complicated works in the Whitney’s collection to install. On February 15, the work was installed at the Whitney Museum as part of the exhibition Jay DeFeo: A Retrospective (opening February 28). The work arrived in New York from California, where the Whitney’s exhibition had finished a successful run at SFMOMA. Photographer Paula Court documented the installation that day from start to finish.

An 87 Year Old College Student Named Rose

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know. 
I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned round to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me 
with a smile that lit up her entire being. 

She said, “Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I’m eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?”

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, “Of course you may!” and she gave me a giant squeeze. 

“Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?” I asked.

She jokingly replied, “I’m here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids…”

“No seriously,” I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

“I always dreamed of having a college education and now I’m getting one!” she told me.

After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.We became instant friends. Every day for the 
next three months, we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this “time machine" 
as she shared her wisdom and experience with me. 

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and 
she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up. 

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I’ll never forget what she taught us. She was 
introduced and stepped up to the podium.

As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, "I’m sorry I’m so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I’ll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell 
you what I know.”

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, “We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop 
playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. 

You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.
We have so many people walking around who are dead and don’t even know it!There is a huge difference between growing 
older and growing up.

If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old.

If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight. 

Anybody can grow older. That doesn’t take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. 
Have no regrets.

The elderly usually don’t have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those 
with regrets.”

She concluded her speech by courageously singing “The Rose.”

She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives.

At the year’s end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died 
peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's 
never too late to be all you can possibly be .When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they’ll really enjoy it!

These words have been passed along in loving memory of ROSE.

REMEMBER, GROWING OLDER IS MANDATORY. GROWING UP IS 
OPTIONAL.

We make a Living by what we get, We make a Life by what we give (via NedHardy).

The Rose: Allan and Danielle

“A rose for the pretty lady? Straight from the castle gardens.” Allan said with a cheeky wink, holding out the blossom towards her with a flourish.

Danielle smiled at him and took the rose from him. “Thank Allan. It’s beautiful.” She placed the rose in her hair and kissed his cheek to say thank you. “How did you manage to sneak in and get it without being caught?” She giggled slightly.

2

There was a moment– I know when I was under in the dark that something whatever I’d been reduced to, you know, not even consciousness.
It was a vague awareness in the dark, and I could– I could feel my definitions fading. And beneath that darkness, there was another kind. It was– it was deeper, warm, you know, like a substance. I could feel, man, and I knew, I knew my daughter waited for me there. So clear. I could feel her. I could feel I could feel a piece of my– my pop, too. It was like I was a part of everything that I ever loved, and we were all the 3 of us, just– just fadin’ out. And all I had to do was let go and I did. I said, “Darkness, yeah, yeah.” And I disappeared. But I could– I could still feel her love there, even more than before. Nothing There was nothing but that love. Then I woke up.

You got your father’s hands. My father made me nervous. Maybe you were already nervous. Maybe you lacked grit. I see you running through the trees. You’re small. The trees are like giants. Men are chasing you. I’m right here. You step out of the trees. You ain’t that fast. Oh, son they kill you. They shoot you to pieces. Where is this? I don’t know. You were here first.

“When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed that with the sun’s love
In the spring becomes the rose”


Rust Cohle and Ray Velcoro, True detective S01/S02 parallels (’Form and Void’ and ‘Maybe tomorrow’)