Normally, I title my column after it’s written. It’s the last thing I do – my final flourish. Every now and then, however, the process reverses itself.  This is one of those times. As deadline approached, the title you see before you invaded my mind so suddenly – and with such ferocity – I had no choice but to commit to it (actually, it felt more like submitting), and see where it might take me.

Even now, I’m not sure where that will be. But come along, if you’d like. It’ll be a lark!

A Play In One Act  (based on a true story)

Dramatis Personae

Mother: A frenetic, distracted editor/columnist for a small local newsweekly. Obsessed with politics, culture, religion, and other esoteric abstractions. 40-something, but fancies herself much younger.

Daughter: A bright, energetic 4^th grader with a great smile. Nine going on 35.

Scene

Mother sits at her desk in the breakfast nook, enthralled by something she’s reading on her computer screen. As usual. Daughter is on the couch, watching a poorly-written sitcom with a ubiquitous laugh track on the Disney Channel. As usual. It’s almost 5:30 pm.

I don’t like much about February. The best holidays are long-gone, the worst holiday is reliably disappointing (obligatory romance is not romantic), and spring is a shameless tease that flirts a little, but won’t commit.

For me, this ghastly month is salvaged by one thing, and one thing only: the movies. Here in Beaufort, we have the opportunity to “think globally and act locally,” as we celebrate our very own International Film Festival, now in its fifth year. (See our extensive coverage in this issue.) This is also the season when we film buffs scurry to make sure we’ve seen all the nominees for “Best Picture” before the Oscars happen at the end of the month. This formidable challenge doubled in scope last year, when the Academy decided to bump the number of nominees from five to ten.