John Ford at the beach. After Pilgrimage.

The mother of John Ford lately told me that she's really proud of her son, not for what he did, but for what he was.






That she survives as a common symbol, a slanting trope that everyone understands and is theirs, like you are theirs too.





That now she is not only your mother, she lies in thousand of strangers' hearts, like you where jailed in hers too.








But everything haunting, as well as everything cruel, happens only whenever you can perish.