{"id":72403,"date":"2014-06-09T16:32:52","date_gmt":"2014-06-09T20:32:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=72403"},"modified":"2014-06-09T16:32:52","modified_gmt":"2014-06-09T20:32:52","slug":"the-saddest-sound-in-the-world","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/06\/09\/the-saddest-sound-in-the-world\/","title":{"rendered":"The Saddest Sound in the World"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"G._Caillebotte_-_Jeune_homme_au_piano\"<\/a>

Gustave Caillebotte, Jeune homme au piano<\/i>, 1876.<\/p><\/div>\n

Not long ago, I happened to pop into a candy store to buy a bag of Dutch licorice shaped like wooden shoes. \u201cThat\u2019s a big bag,\u201d said the girl who works there, indicating my burdens. \u201cWhat\u2019s in it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I said, \u201csome antidepressants and a Snuggie.\u201d<\/p>\n

I think it was the saddest sentence I\u2019ve ever uttered. The Snuggie was for my dad, but even so.<\/p>\n

The next weekend, I went home to visit my parents. We went to some concert they wanted me to see. It was a rainy, blustery day, and I was dressed in my favorite pair of high-waisted windowpane-check wool trousers, which I got at a thrift store about five years ago. My dad met me at the train station. \u201cWhat interesting pants, Sade,\u201d he said. \u201cThey look like something from a nineteenth-century minstrel show.\u201d<\/p>\n

The concert in question was part of a free series at a local mansion, endowed by an elderly eccentric. My parents are regulars, but this was my first time. The mansion was liberally sprinkled with oil landscapes and filled with old people. The loner who\u2019s always shooting hoops at the local playground was there. The pianist, who was quite the consummate entertainer, entered in white tie and tails and played some very bravura Liszt. Then he exited and returned in a red velveteen jacket\u2014he played popular tunes, Liberace fashion, in a variety of jazzy styles. He cracked wise and delighted the assembled company. <\/p>\n

Afterward, there was a small bar serving wine and iced tea. The hungry crowd attacked a few poor waiters every time they emerged from the kitchen bearing miniature spring rolls and tiny ham biscuits. My mother engaged the pianist in intense conversation about the new organ in Alice Tully Hall, which saga my mother has followed closely and about which the pianist, having inaugurated the original organ, cherished passionate feelings. A couple of people remembered me from the time my mom roped me into a panel discussion at the local library titled \u201cWhat the Heck Is a Blog?\u201d<\/p>\n

Back home again, my father called me into my parents\u2019 room, where he was watching baseball. He pointed to the foot of the bed where, sure enough, the Snuggie was. \u201cIt\u2019s become a very important part of my lifestyle,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s true,\u201d concurred my mother, coming in behind me. \u201cIt\u2019s risen to the top of the pantheon, with Big Boy.\u201d (Big Boy is a large square pillow favored by my father for TV watching.) This was high praise indeed. And I was glad to see her mouth was rimmed with the telltale remnants of a Dutch licorice wooden shoe. I, for my part, was on antidepressants. So, something for everyone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Not long ago, I happened to pop into a candy store to buy a bag of Dutch licorice shaped like wooden shoes. \u201cThat\u2019s a big bag,\u201d said the girl who works there, indicating my burdens. \u201cWhat\u2019s in it?\u201d \u201cOh,\u201d I said, \u201csome antidepressants and a Snuggie.\u201d I think it was the saddest sentence I\u2019ve ever […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13115],"tags":[14235,14236,513,14237,8432],"class_list":["post-72403","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-blankets","tag-concerts","tag-depression","tag-going-home","tag-parents"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe Saddest Sound in the World by Sadie Stein<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"June 9, 2014 \u2013 Not long ago, I happened to pop into a candy 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