take me down to the paradise city.

(actually writing this while listening to tapesty, thinking that it's easily one of the greatest albums ever made.)

sunday night, in the third episode of season six of the sopranos, among other goings-on, tony coma-dreamed that he was going to a man named kevin finnerty's family reunion, in a beautiful house in the country, on a warm, idyllic night. when tony gets to the property, and his dead cousin tony greets him outside the house, and it is more than hinted that his mother is inside at the party, it becomes clear that the whole scene is a metaphor for tony approaching heaven.

i thought the show did an excellent job of portraying heaven from the outside looking in, which i think is intrinsically easier, yet probably more poignant, than trying to portray what it's like to actually be in heaven. (ie, it's easier to create an impressionistic symbol of heaven, which evokes heavenly feelings, than doing a mock-up of the kingdom itself, whatever you think it might look like. furthermore, it's more elegant, and probably more effective, to represent heaven in a demure way, rather than using obvious, literal props like big pearly gates and clouds.)

so, along these lines, i got to wondering how i would stage my personal symbolic representation of heaven, if my life was a tv show say.

and i realized this. to me, heaven can be only one thing: a carousel made entirely out of mother of pearl and diamonds, spinning in infinity atop the giant, golden grundle of god, who would be standing on his head for eternity to keep this kingdom come upright. jk jk.

for me, heaven would be represented inside a baseball stadium; specifically, a tunnel, leading from an outer concourse to the seats and field inside, viewed from the concourse. because i can scarcely think of a destination more magical than the inside of a major league ballpark seemed to me the first time i saw it in person.

examine. it was, ironically, shea stadium, circa 1985 or 1986. i remember being SO psyched to go to my first baseball game, that i was fairly breathless with anticipation and excitement on the subway, then during the short walk to the ballpark. we couldn't move fast enough. the dramatic tension only mounted as we snaked our way through the turnstiles, then the various catwalks and escalators on the way to our given floor (let's say mezzanine). i could hear the telltale sounds from inside the stadium: the buzz of a crowd--the bubbling mixture of cheering and a thousand conversations going on at once, and the campy organ music, and i could smell big time baseball. finally, we reached the right landing, and found the little tunnel that would lead inside the stadium, to the section where our seats were.

i remember popping out of that tunnel into sheer vastness. the inside of shea looked so much bigger in person, and it was all grander than i ever could have imagined from tv. and boy was it all so vibrant. sure, it was a night game, and the mixture of summer twilight and stadium lighting made the place glow, but it seemed to me that colors themselves were more alive by virtue of being inside the park. the grass on the field was a majestic green i had never seen; the colors on the players' uniforms seemed to radiate; the red on all the seats seemed positively fiery. it was like anything inside that giant horseshoe took on new life just by being there. fittingly, the seats in the upper reaches of the stadium seemed impossibly high--a continuation of the sky itself. also fittingly, it was a scene i had always wanted to see for myself, and finally was, and yet it surpassed my lofty expectations. it's one of those things i'll never forget.

and i still get a chill down my spine every time i step from one of those tunnels into the wide expanse of a sports stadium or even indoor arena. (less so on the arena tip.) every time, it's like being born.

so my tv heaven scene would have me at the mouth of one of those tunnels, hearing all the telltale sounds of a mass of people engaged in something they love, with light emanating, from the other side. but i wouldn't go through the tunnel. one could never adequately portray the brightness of the colors, the majesty of the scene, by artifical means. one could only imply it. and that's the only good method for repping heaven, anyway.

(tear)

id love to hear others' personal symbols of heaven.

ps--a couple of representations of heaven i like:

Arnold Böcklin, Island of the Dead

from the met: This painting, the first of five versions done between 1880 and 1886, resulted from a request made by Marie Berna, whose husband had recently died. She asked Böcklin to paint a picture on the theme of her bereavement. In 1883, the Berlin art dealer Fritz Gurlitt provided the title by which all five versions are now known: Toteninsel, or Island of the Dead. Böcklin referred to the work as "A Still Place," "A Silent Island," and later, "Island of the Graves." (this has long been one of my favorite paintings.)

Steff Ferle, Heaven