Last night I went to the David Minor Theater and enjoyed both "Trouble with the Curve" and a buffalo chicken salad, once I was able to get it all put together in the dim light of the theater....but that's my problem, no one else's.
1. I really enjoyed that this was a fairy tale movie. In the traditional sense of the word, it was a classic comedy, and, as traditional comedies do, it portrayed, in the end, people at their best enjoying healing, reconciliation, successful romance, awakening, leaving home and returning again (just like what the whole game of baseball centers upon: leaving home and returning).
2. I don't go to movies, necessarily, for surprises. I think I knew about forty minutes into this movie how it was going to play out. YES! I took great pleasure in seeing how the resolution of this movie would happen, but I was never in doubt that it would come to a comic resolution in the baseball story line, the father/daughter story, and in the story's romantic tale. I realize, from hearing people talk about movies and from reading about them, that this predictability makes some viewers feels smug and they think less of this kind of movie. NOT ME!
3. Especially satisfying, even if predictable (that's another word for cliche), was the awakening, the coming to life, the unfolding of the inward beauty of Gus' (Clint Eastwood) daughter Mickey (Amy Adams). In the high-powered world of being a lawyer she is distant, cranky, competent, hollow, ambitious. But, inwardly she's barely alive. That changes in this movie and as Mickey comes alive, I loved how she slowly begins to radiate (played beautifully by Amy Adams).
4. I knew the answer right away to every trivia question Mickey and Johnny threw at each other. I had the answers out before they were answered in the movie (apologies to the guy sitting next to me....). I could never answer these kinds of questions about baseball in the last twenty years, but those questions centered on the 1970's: those facts will always be alive in me.
5. I'll admit it straight out: I love baseball as salvation stories. In this movie, baseball delivered Johnny, Gus, Mickey, and Rigo out of some kind of failure to success, separation into union, joylessness to happiness, obscurity into being recognized, and secrecy into truth. I know baseball doesn't really have this kind of magic, but I sure enjoyed it while it happened during the nearly two hours of this movie and I enjoyed the same in "The Natural", "Fields of Dreams", and other baseball movies, including the unforgettable Ray Milland 1949 classic, "It Happens Every Spring".
6. Lastly, I loved the movie "Moneyball" and,.at the same time, I loved how "Trouble with the Curve" turned "Moneyball" on its head. Gus was exactly the kind of baseball scout "Moneyball" portrayed as washed up, out of touch, ready for pasture. In "Trouble with the Curve", the old school ways of scouting triumph over computer software and I enjoyed believing, at least for the duration of this movie, that a scout who knows when a player needs to see his mother or who can gauge a hitter's talent by the sound of the bat striking the ball and who can tell when a power hitter has trouble with the curve is an asset to a baseball organization.
It's really bigger than baseball. I want to believe that those of us who rely on instincts, intuition, on having a feel for our work can still be valuable in professional worlds more and more dominated by assessment scores and other kinds of statistics.
Really, I suppose, "Trouble with the Curve" brought me back to examine and cherish my work over the years as a teacher who has relied more on intuition than test scores or course outcomes to lead my students to success.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/30/12: Christmas Season, "Trouble with the Curve", Bombay Bomber
1. The climactic Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebrations now give way to living in the Christmas season in the first Sunday after Christmas and with Epiphany Sunday on January 6th and then the five Sundays after the Epiphany. (The Epiphany is the day Christ was revealed to the Magi.) In the secular/shopping world, the Christmas season precedes Christmas Day. That makes perfect sense. In the world of the Christian calendar, however, Christmas Day is followed by a season of reflection upon Christ coming into the world. Like so many Christian observations, the season of Christmastide/Epiphany is about 40 days (not precisely) and means that, in the church, the emotional joy of Christmas stretches out into reflection, into understanding. Anticipation, Celebration, Reflection. It's the rhythm of the Christian Calendar in the Anglican world. And today, Rev. Betsy Tesi invited us to reflect upon Christ born of a woman, that we might receive adoption as children. Adoption, as she helped us see, is a powerful metaphor. It was a splendid sermon. Deep reflection upon Christmas is underway.
2. After much unnecessary delay, I went to the David Minor Theater, ordered myself a Buffalo Chicken Salad, sat in a cushiony chair, and watched "Trouble with the Curve", a movie I found wholly satisfying. For years, I've been wanting to add "Dead Women Awaking" to my growing list of "Dead Men Awaking" movies. These are movies where a spiritually or emotionally dead character comes to life. "Trouble with the Curve" is a Dead Woman Awaking movie in its portrayal of Gus' daughter Mickey. Moreover, it's the next in a long line of salvation by baseball movies! I enjoyed the movie through and through. Humm Baby!
3. After the movie, I dropped in the Steelhead for single pint of Bombay Bomber. I hadn't had one of these pale ales for a few years and the pleasure of its balance and refreshing finish came back to me as I sat and stood at a buddy bar with a silly loved-that-movie-love-this-beer-love-that-the-Cowboys-are-out-of-the-playoffs grin on my face.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Sunday Scribblings: Defiant
This week's Sunday Scribblings' word is defiant.
I don't think of myself as particularly defiant. In fact, when I've been defiant and resisted the will and way of others, not much good came of it. In fact, I lost ground.
In other words, I don't have a particularly defiant will or personality. I am a bit more defiant when I'm resisting something as part of a group, but as an individual, in the face of authority or in the face of those I disagree, I am rarely defiant.
That said, something defiant lives in me and it is more powerful than my will. It has gone into action without my conscious bidding and is deeper than the act of making a choice.
I'm not quite sure what to call this defiance. It resides in my body.
It has been my ally in the face of death.
When I was nineteen years old, as I've written about before, I was gassed at the Bunker Hill Zinc plant. As the accident unfolded, in the bottom of a flash roaster, I saw no way out. I didn't defy death. I consciously submitted to it. I put my hands flat against each other to form a pillow, laid on my side, with my hands beneath my cheeks, closed my eyes, and consciously said good-bye to my life.
Evidently, my body wasn't ready to die. Something inside me defied death and fought hard against the sulfur dioxide and other the toxic mineral dust and I survived and strength surged through my arms and legs when I found a ladder to climb and pulled myself out of the roaster.
That was in 1973.
In 1999, aggressive bacteria attacked my meninges and my wife and two friends rushed me to the ER. The bacterial meningitis struck so quickly that I didn't have a chance to choose to live or die.
I fell into about 72 hours of unconsciousness. This dread disease pushed me close to death.
But, my body defied it. My conscious mind didn't. My spirit, no doubt, helped. But the defiant troops within me, aided by strong doses of antibiotics, defied death, fought off this meningitis, and I survived.
I suffered after effects: head aches, depression, kidney disease, and other problems, but my body, in the long run, has defied these maladies.
Yes, I suffer severe chronic kidney disease, but I am a fully functioning person. I have suffered a certain amount of kidney damage, but if it doesn't worsen, and over the last eight years or so it hasn't, I'll continue to do fine.
My body defies getting worse. It insists on me remaining as strong as I can be and will not give in to this disease I carry.
I see things holistically, even if this piece of writing doesn't suggest that. I know that my mind and body and spirit work together.
So often, however, being defiant is discussed as an expression of the mind or the spirit.
I don't deny that, but I think my body has been defiant over the years.
I want to acknowledge that, even if I can't explain it.
I don't think of myself as particularly defiant. In fact, when I've been defiant and resisted the will and way of others, not much good came of it. In fact, I lost ground.
In other words, I don't have a particularly defiant will or personality. I am a bit more defiant when I'm resisting something as part of a group, but as an individual, in the face of authority or in the face of those I disagree, I am rarely defiant.
That said, something defiant lives in me and it is more powerful than my will. It has gone into action without my conscious bidding and is deeper than the act of making a choice.
I'm not quite sure what to call this defiance. It resides in my body.
It has been my ally in the face of death.
When I was nineteen years old, as I've written about before, I was gassed at the Bunker Hill Zinc plant. As the accident unfolded, in the bottom of a flash roaster, I saw no way out. I didn't defy death. I consciously submitted to it. I put my hands flat against each other to form a pillow, laid on my side, with my hands beneath my cheeks, closed my eyes, and consciously said good-bye to my life.
Evidently, my body wasn't ready to die. Something inside me defied death and fought hard against the sulfur dioxide and other the toxic mineral dust and I survived and strength surged through my arms and legs when I found a ladder to climb and pulled myself out of the roaster.
That was in 1973.
In 1999, aggressive bacteria attacked my meninges and my wife and two friends rushed me to the ER. The bacterial meningitis struck so quickly that I didn't have a chance to choose to live or die.
I fell into about 72 hours of unconsciousness. This dread disease pushed me close to death.
But, my body defied it. My conscious mind didn't. My spirit, no doubt, helped. But the defiant troops within me, aided by strong doses of antibiotics, defied death, fought off this meningitis, and I survived.
I suffered after effects: head aches, depression, kidney disease, and other problems, but my body, in the long run, has defied these maladies.
Yes, I suffer severe chronic kidney disease, but I am a fully functioning person. I have suffered a certain amount of kidney damage, but if it doesn't worsen, and over the last eight years or so it hasn't, I'll continue to do fine.
My body defies getting worse. It insists on me remaining as strong as I can be and will not give in to this disease I carry.
I see things holistically, even if this piece of writing doesn't suggest that. I know that my mind and body and spirit work together.
So often, however, being defiant is discussed as an expression of the mind or the spirit.
I don't deny that, but I think my body has been defiant over the years.
I want to acknowledge that, even if I can't explain it.
Three Beautiful Things 12/29/12: Writing, Pork Fried Rice, Grateful
1. When I first started writing my blog, back in 2006, I wrote all kinds of reflections on all kinds of subjects and then my blog became a Three Beautiful Things blog. Recently, I've been trying to get myself to veer back to writing stuff in addition to Three Beautiful Things and did so today and enjoyed it a lot.
2. I bought that load of Chinese food yesterday evening, and, as planned, it supplied me with two tasty meals today.
3. It was a day full of conversation, online, on the phone, and texting. It was all satisfying, even when a bit worrisome (Mom getting a little bit sick..she's doing better). When the talking and "talking" was done, I poured myself a relaxing Bushmills and ginger ale and sat silent and grateful.
2. I bought that load of Chinese food yesterday evening, and, as planned, it supplied me with two tasty meals today.
3. It was a day full of conversation, online, on the phone, and texting. It was all satisfying, even when a bit worrisome (Mom getting a little bit sick..she's doing better). When the talking and "talking" was done, I poured myself a relaxing Bushmills and ginger ale and sat silent and grateful.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sunday Scribblings: Comfort
Back in 2007, I was a somewhat regular contributor to Sunday Scribblings. I don't remember why I stopped contributing. But I'd like to resume and make at least semi-regular contributions again. This week, the topic is comfort.
Twenty years ago I surrendered and gave up work on my dissertation looking at the idea of goodness in Shakespeare. I'm not sure why I didn't seem cut out for this kind of writing and production, but it doesn't really matter all these years later.
One of the observations I was trying to develop in my thesis had to do with words beginning with "com" and "con". These prefixes in English derive from the Latin word cum and can either mean "together" or "together with" or the prefix can serve as an intensifier. For example, the "com" in the word "compassion" means "together" and when combined with "passion", means to suffer together with, the meaning of "compassion" when see etymologically.
The "com" in the word "comfort" is an intensifier and it intensifies "fort", which, when seen etymologically, means "strong" or "to strengthen". We recognize this in words like "fortify" or "fortress", but we don't normally think of comfort in this way.
But, in fact, we understand the word "comfort" more accurately if we think of it as meaning "to make stronger".
I'm not sure this is true at the motel chain, Comfort Inn, but it's sure true when we think of the comfort we can offer each other -- not superficial comfort, the kind we speak of when we refer to someone's "comfort zone", but the kind of aid we extend to one another in illness or in times of distress or anxiety or when we strengthen one another with encouragement or a kind word.
Right now, my sister is extending her visit with our mother because our mother woke up ill this morning. She not only needs the comfort of pillows fluffed and of the heat turned up a bit and of beef broth and 7Up, but she needs my sister's presence, physical and spiritual, she needs conversation with my sister, my sister's concern, and my sister's compassion.
Our hope is that by staying a little longer with my mother, my sister will bring our mom comfort, help strengthen her, help her be relieved of what's ailing her and help her heal.
As Advent progressed in the month of December, we often heard the words of Isaiah 40:1 or we heard them sung in Handel's Messiah: "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people," saith God.
Extend strength. Fortify my people. Help them endure. Unless it gives one strength, the words of Isaiah do not refer to the thick folds of a satin quilt or a comforter, but to the ways we can, by our goodness to one another, help strengthen and fortify each other. It is why we sing "O tidings of comfort and joy" during the Christmas season. This fortifying of one another brings joy, and the promise of the Christ child is of us being strengthened by what Christ's life and ministry will involve.
In my dissertation, I tried to argue that we see evidence of Shakespeare's understanding of goodness, in part, in those scenes or those moments when characters comfort one another, strengthen one another. It is the comfort Gloucester and, later, Cordelia extend to King Lear. It is the comfort Benedick gives to Beatrice in the chapel scene after Hero has been humiliated. If is the comfort Prospero discovers when abjures his magic and looks to his human strength as his source endurance.
It's a powerful word and, when acted out, a powerful way of bringing strength and hope and love to one another. It's at the heart of goodness. Comfort.
Twenty years ago I surrendered and gave up work on my dissertation looking at the idea of goodness in Shakespeare. I'm not sure why I didn't seem cut out for this kind of writing and production, but it doesn't really matter all these years later.
One of the observations I was trying to develop in my thesis had to do with words beginning with "com" and "con". These prefixes in English derive from the Latin word cum and can either mean "together" or "together with" or the prefix can serve as an intensifier. For example, the "com" in the word "compassion" means "together" and when combined with "passion", means to suffer together with, the meaning of "compassion" when see etymologically.
The "com" in the word "comfort" is an intensifier and it intensifies "fort", which, when seen etymologically, means "strong" or "to strengthen". We recognize this in words like "fortify" or "fortress", but we don't normally think of comfort in this way.
But, in fact, we understand the word "comfort" more accurately if we think of it as meaning "to make stronger".
I'm not sure this is true at the motel chain, Comfort Inn, but it's sure true when we think of the comfort we can offer each other -- not superficial comfort, the kind we speak of when we refer to someone's "comfort zone", but the kind of aid we extend to one another in illness or in times of distress or anxiety or when we strengthen one another with encouragement or a kind word.
Right now, my sister is extending her visit with our mother because our mother woke up ill this morning. She not only needs the comfort of pillows fluffed and of the heat turned up a bit and of beef broth and 7Up, but she needs my sister's presence, physical and spiritual, she needs conversation with my sister, my sister's concern, and my sister's compassion.
Our hope is that by staying a little longer with my mother, my sister will bring our mom comfort, help strengthen her, help her be relieved of what's ailing her and help her heal.
As Advent progressed in the month of December, we often heard the words of Isaiah 40:1 or we heard them sung in Handel's Messiah: "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people," saith God.
Extend strength. Fortify my people. Help them endure. Unless it gives one strength, the words of Isaiah do not refer to the thick folds of a satin quilt or a comforter, but to the ways we can, by our goodness to one another, help strengthen and fortify each other. It is why we sing "O tidings of comfort and joy" during the Christmas season. This fortifying of one another brings joy, and the promise of the Christ child is of us being strengthened by what Christ's life and ministry will involve.
In my dissertation, I tried to argue that we see evidence of Shakespeare's understanding of goodness, in part, in those scenes or those moments when characters comfort one another, strengthen one another. It is the comfort Gloucester and, later, Cordelia extend to King Lear. It is the comfort Benedick gives to Beatrice in the chapel scene after Hero has been humiliated. If is the comfort Prospero discovers when abjures his magic and looks to his human strength as his source endurance.
It's a powerful word and, when acted out, a powerful way of bringing strength and hope and love to one another. It's at the heart of goodness. Comfort.
"Lincoln" and Surrendering to Movies
I'd been looking forward to it for weeks, and yesterday afternoon I finally went to see "Lincoln". It's been difficult to tune out what other people have said about the movie, but I managed. I read no reviews. If I saw the movie's title mentioned in a Facebook post, I hid it. Soon after it came out, I told a fellow teacher I thought I'd go see it soon, and she said, "Well, Daniel Day-Lewis was terrific, but --" and before she could say whatever followed the "but", I (rudely) said, "I'm sure he was" and walked out of the room.
I didn't want to hear what she had to say.
I saw article titles of pieces that purported to examine what was and was not historically accurate in the movie. I ignored all those articles. Editorials came out soon after the movie arguing what politicians in 2012, and especially President Obama, might learn from "Lincoln". I haven't read one of those pieces.
When I go to a movie (or a play), I want to know as little as possible. It's almost impossible to be ignorant of who appears in the movie -- although I wish I could be -- and it's almost impossible to be ignorant of who directs it -- and I'd love not to know this.
You see, I didn't go to "Lincoln" with the idea that it is a Spielberg movie. I had no interest in watching it in relation to other movies he's made. I'm not interested, as I watch a movie for the first time, whether it is in the director's style or a departure or anything else. In fact, if I read or hear someone say, "As with any Spielberg movie, "This Movie" blah blah blah, I quit reading or listening.
I try to watch a movie with as blank of a slate of a mind as I can.
How blank?
Well, I try to forget what the world I live in is like and give myself over to, surrender to the world of the movie I'm watching.
I never think to myself, "That could never happen" because it just did. In the movie.
I never think to myself, "Could that happen?" or "Did that really happen?", rather, I watch a movie thinking, "Here's what happens."
For example, in the movie "Lincoln", since I didn't even begin to wonder or think if it was historically accurate, I found myself intrigued by how the movie explored a handful of questions.
For example, what happens when a President of the United States declares slaves emancipated? What happens when he suspends habeas corpus? What happens when he tries to drive a controversial amendment to the U. S. Constitution through a divided House of Representatives?
Watching "Lincoln", these were questions of the moment for me, questions raised in a movie that had a life of its own and was unfolding before me in its own time frame. I didn't ask, "What happened" back in 1865, I wanted to know what will happen in this movie.
In other words, I watched the movie as a work of fiction, in the best sense of the word.
So often, the word "fiction" is used to mean something that didn't happen or that is fantasy.
At its best, though, fiction, unlike non-fiction, addresses the question of "what happens" not "what happened".
I viewed "Lincoln" in much the same way I watch "Macbeth" or "Henry V". These plays transcend historical fact and explore human character, not by being true to historical fact, but by being true to the character of these figures, true to the pressures human beings face. Sometimes these pressures can be more accurately explored in a work of art than by historical veracity.
For all I know, "Lincoln" was historically accurate. But it didn't matter to me while I watched it and doesn't matter to me now.
I knew Steven Spielberg directed the movie, but I watched it as if I'd never seen a Spielberg movie in my life. Why see this movie through the lens of Spielberg's past work, through his successes and failures? I do the same thing when I see a Shakespeare play. I love going to see "King Lear" as if I've never seen it performed before in my life. I love seeing "Hamlet" as if the only suitable way to produce the play is the way it's happening right here before me. I love to watch "Romeo and Juliet" as if this is its premier and no other production exists and this production is definitive.
I love to lose myself in what I'm watching, letting the present movie or present production define what's worthwhile, what's good, what's real, what works, what should happen.
I go to movies and I see people with their arms crossed as if to say, "Okay. Give me your best shot. Try to entertain me. Try to please me. I'm tough. I'm not easily pleased."
I think to myself, "Poor sots."
I go to a movie saying this, "You will have to work hard to disappoint me. I love to be pleased. I will experience this movie as if it is the first movie I've ever seen in my life. I plan on enjoying you."
As I've written before, it's why I never recommend movies. People ask me if I thought a movie was good.
I don't know if it was good.
I only know how it affected me and I usually am affected by movies in ways I enjoy. I laughed. I teared up. I was afraid. I was absorbed. I forgot about the world I live in day to day and have been living in the world of the movie for the last couple of hours. I usually enjoy having lived in that world and if I don't think I'll enjoy that world, I don't go to the movie.
And I can't talk about a movie right after I've seen it.
I have to go for a walk, get away from people, let it settle in.
It's why I go to so many movies alone.
I had a great experience watching "Lincoln".
I found the main character, Abraham Lincoln, to be a fascinating combination of shrewd, folksy, pragmatic, compassionate, romantic, angry, ambitious, political, unbending, wily, reflective, intelligent, and funny. For starters.
Daniel Day-Lewis played this character stunningly, astonishingly. I was enraptured by his performance.
I enjoyed the suspense of the story. In my world of movie watching, I didn't know how it would all turn out.
I enjoyed the many characters in supporting roles and enjoyed the zest the actors played them with. Tommy Lee Jones gave me so much pleasure I ached.
Sally Fields made me ache with pleasure, too. Her portrayal of Mary Todd Lincoln was complex: she was a loving, selfish, petty, ambitious, independent, pained, firm, wobbly, aggrieved, self-absorbed. For starters.
I enjoyed the portrayal the movie created of the pressures of war, made even more weighty by the pressures of slavery. Those pressures brought out the best kinds of love, not only of justice but of people, and the worst kinds of prejudice and pettifoggery. Was this how it happened? I don't care. In the world of "Lincoln", this is what happens.
I'll admit, in closing, that I don't always stay within the world of the movie I'm watching, and it's a way my mind wanders during a movie that I love.
My mind wanders off into other roles I've seen actors in a movie in and I love thinking about them in these very different roles. Yesterday, watching "Lincoln" I delighted in quick thoughts like this:
There's Gidget, there's the Singing Nun, there's Norma Rae as Mary Todd Lincoln. YES!
There's Johnny, the gay Paki-basher from "My Beautiful Laundrette"....wow! there he is playing Abraham Lincoln.
Wow...I loved seeing Jackie Earle Hailey, thirty-three years later, after playing Moocher, the time clock punching, frat boy slugging kid in "Breaking Away" ("You're not the quarterback here, Mike!"), now the vice president of the Confederacy, Alexander Stephens, negotiating a peace settlement.
I could go on, but I'll end with my favorite. Back in 1979 all the way up to 1984, one of my very favorite movies was "The Return of the Secaucus 7". I must have watched it at least 30 times, especially once I had it on videotape (Beta, for the record).
I never would have guessed, in 1979, that the actor who played the character in that movie who never left home, who worked at the gas station, who seduced Frances, Ron Desjardins, would turn out to be one of the best actors working today: David Strathairn. I chuckled for a second as I watched him play the august Secretary of State William Seward, while remembering him sprawled out on a windshield in "The Return of the Secaucus 7", as the character with many of the movie's funniest lines. But he worked on several John Sayles movies and became well-known for many roles, most notably Edward R. Murrow in "Good Night, and Good Luck".
Somehow, when watching a movie, I manage to stay affixed in the world of the movie I'm watching and, at the same time, have bits and pieces of several other movies delighting me as I remember actors in roles they played in the past.
No wonder I enjoy the movies so much and so easily pleased.
I like to surrender.
I didn't want to hear what she had to say.
I saw article titles of pieces that purported to examine what was and was not historically accurate in the movie. I ignored all those articles. Editorials came out soon after the movie arguing what politicians in 2012, and especially President Obama, might learn from "Lincoln". I haven't read one of those pieces.
When I go to a movie (or a play), I want to know as little as possible. It's almost impossible to be ignorant of who appears in the movie -- although I wish I could be -- and it's almost impossible to be ignorant of who directs it -- and I'd love not to know this.
You see, I didn't go to "Lincoln" with the idea that it is a Spielberg movie. I had no interest in watching it in relation to other movies he's made. I'm not interested, as I watch a movie for the first time, whether it is in the director's style or a departure or anything else. In fact, if I read or hear someone say, "As with any Spielberg movie, "This Movie" blah blah blah, I quit reading or listening.
I try to watch a movie with as blank of a slate of a mind as I can.
How blank?
Well, I try to forget what the world I live in is like and give myself over to, surrender to the world of the movie I'm watching.
I never think to myself, "That could never happen" because it just did. In the movie.
I never think to myself, "Could that happen?" or "Did that really happen?", rather, I watch a movie thinking, "Here's what happens."
For example, in the movie "Lincoln", since I didn't even begin to wonder or think if it was historically accurate, I found myself intrigued by how the movie explored a handful of questions.
For example, what happens when a President of the United States declares slaves emancipated? What happens when he suspends habeas corpus? What happens when he tries to drive a controversial amendment to the U. S. Constitution through a divided House of Representatives?
Watching "Lincoln", these were questions of the moment for me, questions raised in a movie that had a life of its own and was unfolding before me in its own time frame. I didn't ask, "What happened" back in 1865, I wanted to know what will happen in this movie.
In other words, I watched the movie as a work of fiction, in the best sense of the word.
So often, the word "fiction" is used to mean something that didn't happen or that is fantasy.
At its best, though, fiction, unlike non-fiction, addresses the question of "what happens" not "what happened".
I viewed "Lincoln" in much the same way I watch "Macbeth" or "Henry V". These plays transcend historical fact and explore human character, not by being true to historical fact, but by being true to the character of these figures, true to the pressures human beings face. Sometimes these pressures can be more accurately explored in a work of art than by historical veracity.
For all I know, "Lincoln" was historically accurate. But it didn't matter to me while I watched it and doesn't matter to me now.
I knew Steven Spielberg directed the movie, but I watched it as if I'd never seen a Spielberg movie in my life. Why see this movie through the lens of Spielberg's past work, through his successes and failures? I do the same thing when I see a Shakespeare play. I love going to see "King Lear" as if I've never seen it performed before in my life. I love seeing "Hamlet" as if the only suitable way to produce the play is the way it's happening right here before me. I love to watch "Romeo and Juliet" as if this is its premier and no other production exists and this production is definitive.
I love to lose myself in what I'm watching, letting the present movie or present production define what's worthwhile, what's good, what's real, what works, what should happen.
I go to movies and I see people with their arms crossed as if to say, "Okay. Give me your best shot. Try to entertain me. Try to please me. I'm tough. I'm not easily pleased."
I think to myself, "Poor sots."
I go to a movie saying this, "You will have to work hard to disappoint me. I love to be pleased. I will experience this movie as if it is the first movie I've ever seen in my life. I plan on enjoying you."
As I've written before, it's why I never recommend movies. People ask me if I thought a movie was good.
I don't know if it was good.
I only know how it affected me and I usually am affected by movies in ways I enjoy. I laughed. I teared up. I was afraid. I was absorbed. I forgot about the world I live in day to day and have been living in the world of the movie for the last couple of hours. I usually enjoy having lived in that world and if I don't think I'll enjoy that world, I don't go to the movie.
And I can't talk about a movie right after I've seen it.
I have to go for a walk, get away from people, let it settle in.
It's why I go to so many movies alone.
I had a great experience watching "Lincoln".
I found the main character, Abraham Lincoln, to be a fascinating combination of shrewd, folksy, pragmatic, compassionate, romantic, angry, ambitious, political, unbending, wily, reflective, intelligent, and funny. For starters.
Daniel Day-Lewis played this character stunningly, astonishingly. I was enraptured by his performance.
I enjoyed the suspense of the story. In my world of movie watching, I didn't know how it would all turn out.
I enjoyed the many characters in supporting roles and enjoyed the zest the actors played them with. Tommy Lee Jones gave me so much pleasure I ached.
Sally Fields made me ache with pleasure, too. Her portrayal of Mary Todd Lincoln was complex: she was a loving, selfish, petty, ambitious, independent, pained, firm, wobbly, aggrieved, self-absorbed. For starters.
I enjoyed the portrayal the movie created of the pressures of war, made even more weighty by the pressures of slavery. Those pressures brought out the best kinds of love, not only of justice but of people, and the worst kinds of prejudice and pettifoggery. Was this how it happened? I don't care. In the world of "Lincoln", this is what happens.
I'll admit, in closing, that I don't always stay within the world of the movie I'm watching, and it's a way my mind wanders during a movie that I love.
My mind wanders off into other roles I've seen actors in a movie in and I love thinking about them in these very different roles. Yesterday, watching "Lincoln" I delighted in quick thoughts like this:
There's Gidget, there's the Singing Nun, there's Norma Rae as Mary Todd Lincoln. YES!
There's Johnny, the gay Paki-basher from "My Beautiful Laundrette"....wow! there he is playing Abraham Lincoln.
Wow...I loved seeing Jackie Earle Hailey, thirty-three years later, after playing Moocher, the time clock punching, frat boy slugging kid in "Breaking Away" ("You're not the quarterback here, Mike!"), now the vice president of the Confederacy, Alexander Stephens, negotiating a peace settlement.
I could go on, but I'll end with my favorite. Back in 1979 all the way up to 1984, one of my very favorite movies was "The Return of the Secaucus 7". I must have watched it at least 30 times, especially once I had it on videotape (Beta, for the record).
I never would have guessed, in 1979, that the actor who played the character in that movie who never left home, who worked at the gas station, who seduced Frances, Ron Desjardins, would turn out to be one of the best actors working today: David Strathairn. I chuckled for a second as I watched him play the august Secretary of State William Seward, while remembering him sprawled out on a windshield in "The Return of the Secaucus 7", as the character with many of the movie's funniest lines. But he worked on several John Sayles movies and became well-known for many roles, most notably Edward R. Murrow in "Good Night, and Good Luck".
Somehow, when watching a movie, I manage to stay affixed in the world of the movie I'm watching and, at the same time, have bits and pieces of several other movies delighting me as I remember actors in roles they played in the past.
No wonder I enjoy the movies so much and so easily pleased.
I like to surrender.
Three Beautiful Things 12/28/12: "Lincoln" Screenplay, Daniel Day-Lewis, Jade Palace Feast
1. As I was listening to the extraordinary screenplay of the movie, "Lincoln", unfold this afternoon, I recalled my enjoyment of the Ethan and Joel Coen's screenplay of "True Grit". I enjoyed the way Tommy Lee Jones, as Thaddeus Stevens, reveled in Stevens' overwrought metaphors, insults, and passion, all in a love for a certain stylized diction of the mid-nineteenth century. Moreover, I nearly sat on the edge of my seat waiting for Daniel-Day Lewis' Lincoln to drop another line from "Hamlet" or "King Lear" or the Bible or a maxim from Euclid on his wife or cabinet or a confidante or to tell another folksy fable to whomever was in the room. I ached with enjoyment throughout the movie, as I did when listening to the poetry of "True Grit". In "Lincoln" the range of diction for its range of characters was not only as enjoyable as Ethan and Joel Coen, but Tony Kushner's sceenplay was as enjoyable as listening to Shakespeare.
2. I kept trying to think, as I watched "Lincoln", when else I had experienced an actor so entirely occupy a character as Daniel Day-Lewis occupied Abraham Lincoln. Charleze Theron as Aileen Wuornos in "Monster" comes to mind. Then my mind turns back to Daniel Day-Lewis as Christy Lewis in "My Left Foot" and when he played Johnny in "My Beautiful Laundrette". I think of the remarkable King Lear that Laurence Oliver played in 1983. In Act IV and on into Act V, I forgot Laurence Olivier even existed: there was only this transformed king, this old man cleansed and child-like, who had found his way through madness back to his own soul. I won't go on. Suffice it to say that I experienced Daniel Day-Lewis' portrayal of Abraham Lincoln as sublime. It gave me great joy. It moved me. I was astonished.
3. When I'm batching it, sometimes I buy a family dinner for two to go from Jade Palace and then I have about three dinners worth of Chinese food to indulge in. I did that this evening and really enjoyed my first dive into the lemon chicken, pork fried rice, fried shrimp, and other dishes as I relaxed this evening after seeing "Lincoln".
2. I kept trying to think, as I watched "Lincoln", when else I had experienced an actor so entirely occupy a character as Daniel Day-Lewis occupied Abraham Lincoln. Charleze Theron as Aileen Wuornos in "Monster" comes to mind. Then my mind turns back to Daniel Day-Lewis as Christy Lewis in "My Left Foot" and when he played Johnny in "My Beautiful Laundrette". I think of the remarkable King Lear that Laurence Oliver played in 1983. In Act IV and on into Act V, I forgot Laurence Olivier even existed: there was only this transformed king, this old man cleansed and child-like, who had found his way through madness back to his own soul. I won't go on. Suffice it to say that I experienced Daniel Day-Lewis' portrayal of Abraham Lincoln as sublime. It gave me great joy. It moved me. I was astonished.
3. When I'm batching it, sometimes I buy a family dinner for two to go from Jade Palace and then I have about three dinners worth of Chinese food to indulge in. I did that this evening and really enjoyed my first dive into the lemon chicken, pork fried rice, fried shrimp, and other dishes as I relaxed this evening after seeing "Lincoln".
Friday, December 28, 2012
"A Late Quartet"
I sat still as "A Late Quartet" ended, the credits began to roll, and I soaked in Beethoven's Opus 131, String Quartet #14. In Beethoven's canon, it is a late quartet and the string quartet featured in this movie are about to disband/reconfigure, making them a late quartet.
For me, there was another late quartet in this movie. It was a quartet of aged artists: Pablo Casals, Rembrandt, Beethoven, and the movie's central character, Peter Mitchell (played by Christopher Walken).
The movie focuses on Peter Mitchell's aging -- he is the oldest member, by far, of the string quartet, Fugue, featured in the story.
But it also features much discussion of Beethoven's late quartet, Opus 131, and how his departure from the conventional quartet structure, his insistence that it be played without pause, and the mysterious melancholy of the piece makes it difficult and beautiful to play.
(If you've got forty minutes and want to listen to it, here it is):
Then, during the movie, as if to echo the reality of aging that Beethoven explores, the aging Peter and the violist Juliette (played by Catherine Keener) are at the Frick collection and stop in front of Rembrant's 1658 self-portrait. Here, as in Beethoven's quartet, the artist explores his confidence, his artistic power, while simultaneously exploring his anxiety about those powers, as well as his anxiety about his life, which may be diminishing, possibly nearing its end.
My favorite moment in the movie occurred when Peter Mitchell, as he instructs a college-aged string quartet, stops them after Alexandra (the daughter of the Fugue's married couple) lambasts the cellist for playing too emotionally.
Peter recalls his first meeting, as a young cellist, with Pablo Casals. In a private lesson, Peter played some passages of Bach for Casals and, in his mind, played them terribly. But, Casals praised him and for years Peter was incensed about what he regarded as Casals insincerity. Later in life, as a colleague of Casals, he confronted Casals about this supposed insincerity, and Casals stiffened, telling Peter Mitchell that any moron can find what's wrong, find the flaws in what someone plays. Then he explained, all these years later, what he had admired in the young Peter's playing.
In this last stage of his life, this was the wisdom Peter Mitchell carried forward from what he learned from the aged Casals:
Any moron can find flaws. The best teachers encourage what's good, what's strong in a player.
I loved hearing this. It's been my approach to teaching for many years. It's also my approach to movie viewing.
If I cared to, I could tell you about what I thought were flaws in "A Late Quartet". But, as the movie ended, I was tearing up. I was moved. The emotional strengths of the movie were what mattered most, especially, for me, as the movie explored the aging of the older man, Peter, as well as his middle-aged colleagues in the quartet.
I never recommend movies. I am too positive about movies and enjoy them too much to make recommendations.
All I can say is that I was very happy that at the end of "A Late Quartet" I was moved. I was very happy that I'd decided to spend the late afternoon of my birthday watching it.
And that I left the theater reveling in what was powerful in the movie.
Its flaws melted away.
For me, there was another late quartet in this movie. It was a quartet of aged artists: Pablo Casals, Rembrandt, Beethoven, and the movie's central character, Peter Mitchell (played by Christopher Walken).
The movie focuses on Peter Mitchell's aging -- he is the oldest member, by far, of the string quartet, Fugue, featured in the story.
But it also features much discussion of Beethoven's late quartet, Opus 131, and how his departure from the conventional quartet structure, his insistence that it be played without pause, and the mysterious melancholy of the piece makes it difficult and beautiful to play.
(If you've got forty minutes and want to listen to it, here it is):
Then, during the movie, as if to echo the reality of aging that Beethoven explores, the aging Peter and the violist Juliette (played by Catherine Keener) are at the Frick collection and stop in front of Rembrant's 1658 self-portrait. Here, as in Beethoven's quartet, the artist explores his confidence, his artistic power, while simultaneously exploring his anxiety about those powers, as well as his anxiety about his life, which may be diminishing, possibly nearing its end.
My favorite moment in the movie occurred when Peter Mitchell, as he instructs a college-aged string quartet, stops them after Alexandra (the daughter of the Fugue's married couple) lambasts the cellist for playing too emotionally.
Peter recalls his first meeting, as a young cellist, with Pablo Casals. In a private lesson, Peter played some passages of Bach for Casals and, in his mind, played them terribly. But, Casals praised him and for years Peter was incensed about what he regarded as Casals insincerity. Later in life, as a colleague of Casals, he confronted Casals about this supposed insincerity, and Casals stiffened, telling Peter Mitchell that any moron can find what's wrong, find the flaws in what someone plays. Then he explained, all these years later, what he had admired in the young Peter's playing.
In this last stage of his life, this was the wisdom Peter Mitchell carried forward from what he learned from the aged Casals:
Any moron can find flaws. The best teachers encourage what's good, what's strong in a player.
I loved hearing this. It's been my approach to teaching for many years. It's also my approach to movie viewing.
If I cared to, I could tell you about what I thought were flaws in "A Late Quartet". But, as the movie ended, I was tearing up. I was moved. The emotional strengths of the movie were what mattered most, especially, for me, as the movie explored the aging of the older man, Peter, as well as his middle-aged colleagues in the quartet.
I never recommend movies. I am too positive about movies and enjoy them too much to make recommendations.
All I can say is that I was very happy that at the end of "A Late Quartet" I was moved. I was very happy that I'd decided to spend the late afternoon of my birthday watching it.
And that I left the theater reveling in what was powerful in the movie.
Its flaws melted away.
Three Beautiful Things 12/27/12: Investigating Delta Ponds, "A Late Quartet", Birthday Dinner at Billy Mac's
1. After enjoying a birthday breakfast of smoked salmon eggs Benedict at Cornucopia, I spent a couple of hours at Delta Ponds investigating areas I hadn't been to before and taking pictures. No rain made the walking and picture taking especially enjoyable.
2. I had read a retrospective of Christopher Walken's acting career in the NYT earlier this fall and had been waiting for the movie "A Late Quartet" which inspired the article. The movie moved me. I admit, I'm ready and easy to move at movies, but, all the same, I was moved and this movie will stay with me for a while. That's really all I ask of a movie: Move me. Stay with me.
3. After some deliberation, I decided I wanted to eat my birthday dinner at Billy Mac's and am I ever glad I did. Billy was grilling the blackened rib eye steak with bleu cheese and caramelized onions, accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and perfectly steamed fresh vegetables. I had a great time shooting the breeze with Derrick and John, got in a lot of good laughs, and had a great time. Had I gone to the other places I thought about, it would have been a dinner of solitude, which is fine most times, but on this particular evening, I'm glad I went to my neighborhood bar and grill and wasn't alone.
2. I had read a retrospective of Christopher Walken's acting career in the NYT earlier this fall and had been waiting for the movie "A Late Quartet" which inspired the article. The movie moved me. I admit, I'm ready and easy to move at movies, but, all the same, I was moved and this movie will stay with me for a while. That's really all I ask of a movie: Move me. Stay with me.
3. After some deliberation, I decided I wanted to eat my birthday dinner at Billy Mac's and am I ever glad I did. Billy was grilling the blackened rib eye steak with bleu cheese and caramelized onions, accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and perfectly steamed fresh vegetables. I had a great time shooting the breeze with Derrick and John, got in a lot of good laughs, and had a great time. Had I gone to the other places I thought about, it would have been a dinner of solitude, which is fine most times, but on this particular evening, I'm glad I went to my neighborhood bar and grill and wasn't alone.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/26/12: Good Kidney Report, Delta Ponds Geography, Hot Wings
1. I found out eight years ago that I have Stage IV chronic kidney disease. I don't know how long I had had it before I found out. When I was recovering from bacterial meningitis in 1999, one concern was that I might have suffered kidney damage. I remember being told that I hadn't, but I wonder if someone made a mistake and, in fact, I did suffer kidney damage then. Ever since I was diagnosed, eight years ago, the doctors' primary concern is that the blood tests they use to measure the kidneys' function don't change much -- and especially that my function doesn't decline more. I've had one dip in function, back in 2009, when pneumonia and c-diff dehydrated me, but I regained some of the lost function and my numbers are remaining steady. This is the news I received at the nephrologist today. No change. No decline. The numbers, within the fact of my disease, remain solid. The disease is not progressing. This was very good news. I have been feeling great and, luckily, feeling good has not been masking other problems. My blood pressure is also good. That's really important.
2. Before I went to the doctor, I took a geographical tour of the Delta Ponds. I realized after talking with Anne on Christmas afternoon that I had east and west mixed up and today I was happy to get it all straightened out in my mind -- and with my legs.
3. Good doctor's report. Good geographical clarification. What's a guy do? Fix hot wings, that's what. It turns out that I ate Christmas dinner with the Troxstar family, so I had the dinner I had planned for Christmas today. I'll admit: hot wings are more fun to eat with other people than alone, but they were still very enjoyable, as were the celery sticks dipped in Litehouse Chunky Blue Cheese dressing.
2. Before I went to the doctor, I took a geographical tour of the Delta Ponds. I realized after talking with Anne on Christmas afternoon that I had east and west mixed up and today I was happy to get it all straightened out in my mind -- and with my legs.
3. Good doctor's report. Good geographical clarification. What's a guy do? Fix hot wings, that's what. It turns out that I ate Christmas dinner with the Troxstar family, so I had the dinner I had planned for Christmas today. I'll admit: hot wings are more fun to eat with other people than alone, but they were still very enjoyable, as were the celery sticks dipped in Litehouse Chunky Blue Cheese dressing.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/25/12: Anglican Still Waters, Brunch, Chez McBata, BONUS Chez Troxstar BONUS Kellogg Christmas
1. As I've probably written (literally) 50,000 times over the years, I love the regularity of the Episcopalian/Anglican liturgy. So, going to church this morning, I could count on hearing and reciting the same words during much of the service that we all speak and hear during every season of the Christian calendar. Yes, it being Christmas Day, hymns were appropriate to the day and so were the scripture readings and so on, but I love that the liturgy has this constancy, that the regular rhythms of the Christian life remain the same. It might seem odd that I would say this, but I was the most moved by today's service not by anything extraordinary, but by the reliable and reassuring ordinariness of it. What did Mr. Exum always used to say about his favorite type of student? Still water runs deep. Those were the waters I worshiped in this morning.
2. Rev. Betsy Tesi and her husband Martin generously provided us Christmas worshipers with a splendid brunch after the Eucharist. Not only was the food delicious, but the buzz of conversation and gratitude in the room added more joy to this already joyous day.
3. Russell and Sonie and I decided to go for an afternoon stroll with our cameras, but no sooner did we hit the Amazon Creek trail, but the rain started to fall. We laughed at our lousy luck and had a good time telling stories and trying to understand puzzling aspects of our lives and returned to Russell and Anne's house where Anne was skyping with her brothers and sisters and I was very happy to get to say hello and Merry Christmas to Mary, even though she was thousands of miles away in the Catskills. Conversation continued in the house with the help of Lynn Tullis' spectacular egg nog, until I got a phone call -- which turned into a BONUS Beautiful Thing!
BONUS: The Senior Warden called me from the front porch of Chez Corgis (where I live!) and used his ecclesiastical authority to summon me to his presence on my porch. I hurriedly said my good byes and Merry Christmases to Sonie and the McBatas and within minutes the Troxstar and I sat down for a beer and some conversation which led to the splitting of La Fin du Monde which led to us walking to Chez Troxstar for Christmas dinner and some Senior Warden home brewed stout as well as (a little too much) B & B French spiced liqueur and cognac -- and four slices of four different smashingly scrumptious fruit cake.
BONUS #2: I talked for over forty-five minutes with my mom and my sister Christy and got quite a wonderful account of their Ukraine Christmas Eve dinner, church service across the street, and how Christmas afternoon was shaping up. My family's Christmas was packed with people, friends and family members, and with stories, laughter, near disasters, and a ton of good cheer.
Today, I would have loved to have been several places at once: in Kellogg with family and friends, in New York with the Deke and Adrienne, in Groveton with Molly and her family, in Portland with Patrick, but I was in Eugene where my fellow parishioners and great friends and I had a very Merry Christmas. Blessings to us all!
2. Rev. Betsy Tesi and her husband Martin generously provided us Christmas worshipers with a splendid brunch after the Eucharist. Not only was the food delicious, but the buzz of conversation and gratitude in the room added more joy to this already joyous day.
3. Russell and Sonie and I decided to go for an afternoon stroll with our cameras, but no sooner did we hit the Amazon Creek trail, but the rain started to fall. We laughed at our lousy luck and had a good time telling stories and trying to understand puzzling aspects of our lives and returned to Russell and Anne's house where Anne was skyping with her brothers and sisters and I was very happy to get to say hello and Merry Christmas to Mary, even though she was thousands of miles away in the Catskills. Conversation continued in the house with the help of Lynn Tullis' spectacular egg nog, until I got a phone call -- which turned into a BONUS Beautiful Thing!
BONUS: The Senior Warden called me from the front porch of Chez Corgis (where I live!) and used his ecclesiastical authority to summon me to his presence on my porch. I hurriedly said my good byes and Merry Christmases to Sonie and the McBatas and within minutes the Troxstar and I sat down for a beer and some conversation which led to the splitting of La Fin du Monde which led to us walking to Chez Troxstar for Christmas dinner and some Senior Warden home brewed stout as well as (a little too much) B & B French spiced liqueur and cognac -- and four slices of four different smashingly scrumptious fruit cake.
BONUS #2: I talked for over forty-five minutes with my mom and my sister Christy and got quite a wonderful account of their Ukraine Christmas Eve dinner, church service across the street, and how Christmas afternoon was shaping up. My family's Christmas was packed with people, friends and family members, and with stories, laughter, near disasters, and a ton of good cheer.
Today, I would have loved to have been several places at once: in Kellogg with family and friends, in New York with the Deke and Adrienne, in Groveton with Molly and her family, in Portland with Patrick, but I was in Eugene where my fellow parishioners and great friends and I had a very Merry Christmas. Blessings to us all!
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/24/12: Kellogg, Never Alone at Delta Ponds, Rib Eye Dinner, BONUS: Liturgical Copia
1. I've been alone at Christmas a couple or three times before and I know how to keep things merry. Yes, I would enjoy being with Deke or being in Kellogg with family, but this year the Deke is spending Christmas with her daughters and I stayed home to take care of the dorks (the corgis). One way to keep things merry is to talk with Christy on the phone and get reports from Kellogg and then to get a series of text messages updating me. I love the pictures Carol posted, as well.
2. Usually when I go to Delta Ponds Park, I am by myself, but who could feel alone out there? Today was chilly, but not raining, and I enjoyed the geese, ducks, and other fowl and continued to keep a close eye on the foliage and being at the park kept me in really good company.
3. My Christmas Eve steak dinner was delicious. I managed to cook my rib eye steak perfectly medium rare and it was so rich and tender that the work "buttery" came to mind. I'm very happy I decided that this was the dinner I wanted this evening.
Bonus: Sometimes three isn't enough! The nine o'clock Eucharist was beautiful. Candles. The green boughs. The explosion of flowers on the altar. This is another way I keep things merry when flying solo on Christmas: be with my fellow parishioners at St. Mary's and, as another bonus, take part in a Rite I Eucharist with all of its copious exploration of the Christian experience, with all of its beautiful, if slightly archaic, language. I love liturgical copia.
2. Usually when I go to Delta Ponds Park, I am by myself, but who could feel alone out there? Today was chilly, but not raining, and I enjoyed the geese, ducks, and other fowl and continued to keep a close eye on the foliage and being at the park kept me in really good company.
3. My Christmas Eve steak dinner was delicious. I managed to cook my rib eye steak perfectly medium rare and it was so rich and tender that the work "buttery" came to mind. I'm very happy I decided that this was the dinner I wanted this evening.
Bonus: Sometimes three isn't enough! The nine o'clock Eucharist was beautiful. Candles. The green boughs. The explosion of flowers on the altar. This is another way I keep things merry when flying solo on Christmas: be with my fellow parishioners at St. Mary's and, as another bonus, take part in a Rite I Eucharist with all of its copious exploration of the Christian experience, with all of its beautiful, if slightly archaic, language. I love liturgical copia.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/23/12: Surprise!, Reunion, Whiskey Wisdom
1. Turns out that the 12/16/12 Service of Lessons and Carols I took part in at St. Mary's wasn't enough. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at St. Andrew's in Cottage Grove and the Sunday service was, yes, a Service of Lessons and Carols!
2. I hadn't seen my former, and one of my best, student Marjorie for a few years and, lo and behold, she was in attendance at the Service of Lessons and Carols, too, and we got to chat for a few minutes, but not long enough.
3. After the Service of Lessons and Carols, Rita and I pretty much got everything figured out that needed figuring out about this puzzling world we live in over lunch and a moderate amount of booze: Jack Daniels and Seagram's 7.
2. I hadn't seen my former, and one of my best, student Marjorie for a few years and, lo and behold, she was in attendance at the Service of Lessons and Carols, too, and we got to chat for a few minutes, but not long enough.
3. After the Service of Lessons and Carols, Rita and I pretty much got everything figured out that needed figuring out about this puzzling world we live in over lunch and a moderate amount of booze: Jack Daniels and Seagram's 7.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/22/12: Safe Travels, One Picture, Calisaya Warmth
1. The Deke safely arrived and her visit with Jack and Adrienne begins.
2. Russell and I hung out in the Fifth Street Public Market area and took pictures. We also wandered over to the EWEB plaza area where I took the one picture I was happy with:
3. The afternoon grew dark, wet, and cold. Sipping on a drink made by dropping a little Calisaya liqueur in a shot of Meyer's dark rum warmed me.
2. Russell and I hung out in the Fifth Street Public Market area and took pictures. We also wandered over to the EWEB plaza area where I took the one picture I was happy with:
3. The afternoon grew dark, wet, and cold. Sipping on a drink made by dropping a little Calisaya liqueur in a shot of Meyer's dark rum warmed me.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/21/12: Brails, Restoration, Convenience
1. Fun, relaxing, filling, mirthful breakfast at Brails with the Troxes.
2. The picture recovery project. Having moved the 06-22-12 pictures I took in D. C. to my desktop, I arduously edited them this afternoon. I am kind of astonished by how much more I enjoyed many of these pictures today than I did back in July when I originally edited them. In particular, I saw this picture with new eyes and edited three versions of it.
I love how the two women are in step. Visually, I love the black/white contrast, made doubly pleasurable by the black woman carrying the white baby. I wonder what the astonished woman sees -- and I wonder if they are, in fact, both astonished. In short, I love the moment of this picture. Here's my version by version take on what I see in each one:
Version 1: retains the wide context of The Mall.
Version 2. Focuses on the women head to toe.
Version 3. Moves in more closely on the facial expressions and on the baby. The focus of this version is not as sharp, but it is more intimate.
I find all three perspectives exciting and had I not been forced into this recovery project, I would not have looked at this picture with fresh eyes.
3. For her birthday, the Deke wanted convenience food and so we ordered take out from Chao Pra Ya and somehow it tasted even better than usual -- I don't know why, but the impact was most welcome. It made me happy.
2. The picture recovery project. Having moved the 06-22-12 pictures I took in D. C. to my desktop, I arduously edited them this afternoon. I am kind of astonished by how much more I enjoyed many of these pictures today than I did back in July when I originally edited them. In particular, I saw this picture with new eyes and edited three versions of it.
I love how the two women are in step. Visually, I love the black/white contrast, made doubly pleasurable by the black woman carrying the white baby. I wonder what the astonished woman sees -- and I wonder if they are, in fact, both astonished. In short, I love the moment of this picture. Here's my version by version take on what I see in each one:
Version 1: retains the wide context of The Mall.
Version 2. Focuses on the women head to toe.
Version 3. Moves in more closely on the facial expressions and on the baby. The focus of this version is not as sharp, but it is more intimate.
I find all three perspectives exciting and had I not been forced into this recovery project, I would not have looked at this picture with fresh eyes.
3. For her birthday, the Deke wanted convenience food and so we ordered take out from Chao Pra Ya and somehow it tasted even better than usual -- I don't know why, but the impact was most welcome. It made me happy.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/20/12: Feeling Better, Recovery Project, From the Archives
1. The sore in my sore throat is diminishing and I had more energy today -- I spent less time napping. The question for me was how to spend my day when outside it was raining hard and steady, meaning no picture taking strolls. I pondered things over a bagel and coffee at Sweet Life.
2. That external hard drive I had all my pictures on crashed back in November and the guy I entrusted it with to recover the data couldn't do the job himself and when he got an estimate from the lab he works with in California, it was over 1000 bucks. I don't erase memory cards. I figured, well, I'll just go back to the memory cards, erase the pictures I know are lousy, copy the others to my desktop, and edit them again. Yes, it'll be a long tedious undertaking, but worth it. Soooo, I began today. Happily, all my pictures from my trips to DC and NYC were intact. They are all, now, on my desktop ready to be edited. Once edited, I will copy them onto my external drive (the one that works!) and soon I'll be purchasing a third storage options so my pictures are always saved in their edited form in three places. And I won't erase my memory cards.
3. Looking at my pictures, I was reminded of a picture I took at Saturday Market soon after I returned from NYC. It made me happy to see this picture again:
2. That external hard drive I had all my pictures on crashed back in November and the guy I entrusted it with to recover the data couldn't do the job himself and when he got an estimate from the lab he works with in California, it was over 1000 bucks. I don't erase memory cards. I figured, well, I'll just go back to the memory cards, erase the pictures I know are lousy, copy the others to my desktop, and edit them again. Yes, it'll be a long tedious undertaking, but worth it. Soooo, I began today. Happily, all my pictures from my trips to DC and NYC were intact. They are all, now, on my desktop ready to be edited. Once edited, I will copy them onto my external drive (the one that works!) and soon I'll be purchasing a third storage options so my pictures are always saved in their edited form in three places. And I won't erase my memory cards.
3. Looking at my pictures, I was reminded of a picture I took at Saturday Market soon after I returned from NYC. It made me happy to see this picture again:
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/19/12: Thanks David, Rest, Adult Beverage Medicine
1. I was very grateful today for a comment David, a former fellow instructor at LCC, made to me on Facebook: All that really matters is that I'm happy with my pictures. I'm not educated in the arts of picture taking. I learn as I go and tend to conform my pictures to my own sense of what looks good or what I enjoy -- mostly the latter. Too often, when I read learned comments about others' pictures, they sound like template comments. It is as if a template of standards exists for what makes a good picture and the learned picture commenters judge the beauty of picture by whether they meet these predetermined standards. It's why a lot of the language in picture talk repeats itself. It's the same with writing -- often when I read what's said about what makes good writing, I know before I read itwhat's going to come and those predetermined standards, when followed, standarized, uniform writing, not uniqueness. It was the same when I sought out therapy when I was struggling with depression. My well-intentioned therapists had a rubric, a profile, based on studies, based on research, and talked with in terms of this rubric. I wanted to explore the particularities of my own experience with depression. I didn't want to explore depression with a thousand faces, the monomythic hero of depression. So, I'll keep taking pictures, trying to keep my mind free of others' standards -- except when they are helpful and figure I won't be a contest winner or anything like that because when I read judges' comments, they always have that rubric sound to them. It's the same with teaching -- rubrics, outcomes, course objectives are abstract and do not take into account the particularities of each student, the unique, erratic, non-linear, and unpredictable timeline of each student's way of learning -- nor do these rubrics take into account the uniqueness of each classroom of students. Maybe you can tell, if you are still reading this long beautiful thing: I am working to retire myself, with mixed success, from institutional ways of approaching as many aspects of my life as I can: taking pictures, writing, Shakespeare, poetry, therapy, teaching....and on and on. So far, though, I've surrendered my kidney to the blood test rubrics.
2. I don't remember the last time I was ill. Today I've been fighting a sore throat and some chest congestion. I'm grateful that I'm on a break from school and could rest, nap, and help myself improve.
3. After dinner, I thought -- hmmmm -- maybe an adult hot water beverage or two would help me recover. So, I got in my adult car and drove to the adult liquor store and bought an adult pint each of Seagram's VO, Christian Brothers' brandy, and Meyer's dark rum. I combined a dose of each adult liquor into an adult mug with hot water, honey, and lemon juice. Heh. I don't know if was medicinal, but it sure was good.
2. I don't remember the last time I was ill. Today I've been fighting a sore throat and some chest congestion. I'm grateful that I'm on a break from school and could rest, nap, and help myself improve.
3. After dinner, I thought -- hmmmm -- maybe an adult hot water beverage or two would help me recover. So, I got in my adult car and drove to the adult liquor store and bought an adult pint each of Seagram's VO, Christian Brothers' brandy, and Meyer's dark rum. I combined a dose of each adult liquor into an adult mug with hot water, honey, and lemon juice. Heh. I don't know if was medicinal, but it sure was good.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/18/12: Forearm Tripod, Sonie Arrived!, Everything but the Kitchen Sink
1. So last Friday I was out at Delta Ponds taking pictures with my Sigma 18-200 mm lens and I was struggling, even with my left hand placed properly under my camera and lens, with keeping my camera still. I didn't have my tripod and I didn't always have a solid object like a bridge rail to rest my camera on. Suddenly I thought, "Hmmm. How about my forearm." I hoped it worked as I shot picture after picture using my forearm to stabilize my camera. Today I looked at the nearly 400 pictures I took that day and I could see that using my forearm made a difference...as did resting my camera on a bridge railing and other solid things. This is a great relief to me. I think the clarity of my pictures taken of objects at a great distance will improve.
2. Sonie arrived! Her plane was a little late. Her flight was not listed on the airport monitor. A plane from San Francisco did come in at 2:30, her flight's ETA, and I thought she would be on it and she wasn't. But I stayed calm. I waited around. I talked to a United agent about flights and arrivals and it all worked out and Sonie and I had a very good visit as I drove her to her mother's apartment.
3. Okay. I got the chicken out that I crock potted on Sunday. On Monday I chopped up the meat and today I strained the broth. I got rid of the bones, put some water in the broth in the crock pot, added the meat, brown rice, red pepper, celery, and green beans. My hope was for a kind of chicken rice stew, not so much a soup, and I'll be darned: it worked. The Deke liked it, so did I, and we have enough of this thrown together concoction (is that redundant?) for more meals to come.
2. Sonie arrived! Her plane was a little late. Her flight was not listed on the airport monitor. A plane from San Francisco did come in at 2:30, her flight's ETA, and I thought she would be on it and she wasn't. But I stayed calm. I waited around. I talked to a United agent about flights and arrivals and it all worked out and Sonie and I had a very good visit as I drove her to her mother's apartment.
3. Okay. I got the chicken out that I crock potted on Sunday. On Monday I chopped up the meat and today I strained the broth. I got rid of the bones, put some water in the broth in the crock pot, added the meat, brown rice, red pepper, celery, and green beans. My hope was for a kind of chicken rice stew, not so much a soup, and I'll be darned: it worked. The Deke liked it, so did I, and we have enough of this thrown together concoction (is that redundant?) for more meals to come.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/17/12: Chicken Prep, Steak Dinner, Wet Spot on the Couch
1. I spent a bit of time preparing chicken for a casserole, but it turned out we didn't quite have time when the Deke got home for the casserole preparations. It was all fine. It had to do with housecleaning.
2. I forgot I had purchased two petite sirloin steaks on Friday and they seemed to appear out of nowhere in the fridge. I gave them the cast iron treatment and the Deke made a very good cabbage salad and we had a quick, delicious dinner.
3. The wet spot on the couch was from Charly having peed. Thank goodness. Charly licks the couch and when she does it leaves a big wet spot. This fact is weird on multiple levels.
2. I forgot I had purchased two petite sirloin steaks on Friday and they seemed to appear out of nowhere in the fridge. I gave them the cast iron treatment and the Deke made a very good cabbage salad and we had a quick, delicious dinner.
3. The wet spot on the couch was from Charly having peed. Thank goodness. Charly licks the couch and when she does it leaves a big wet spot. This fact is weird on multiple levels.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Three Beautiful Things 12/16/12: Stay Home, Lessons and Carols, Senior Warden Wind Down
1. On occasion, I decide that I want less time with other people, no matter how much I enjoy them, and want time alone. This morning was such a time. I didn't go to the 11:00 service at St. Mary's. I stayed home and edited pictures, did some contemplating, and, later, took a nap.
2. Later, however, I did go to St. Mary's for the Service of Lessons and Carols. The church has now been greened and the tree is up. The service was quiet, allowing more contemplation. The passages from Scripture were beautiful, as was the music. I enjoyed being a reader and getting to read about the wise men coming to visit the Christ child and Mary.
3. The Senior Warden also attended the service and we conspired to drink our wassail at the Bier Stein instead of the church fellowship hall. Agrarian Ales, a brewer in Eugene I'd never heard of, had their Premiere Saison on tap. When the Senior Warden ordered his second glass and the keg blew, we immediately went to Plan B and brought a bottle of La Fin Du Monde to the bar and split it. All of this went very well with my Groovin Reuben panini sandwich. It was a delicious way to cap off a good day.
2. Later, however, I did go to St. Mary's for the Service of Lessons and Carols. The church has now been greened and the tree is up. The service was quiet, allowing more contemplation. The passages from Scripture were beautiful, as was the music. I enjoyed being a reader and getting to read about the wise men coming to visit the Christ child and Mary.
3. The Senior Warden also attended the service and we conspired to drink our wassail at the Bier Stein instead of the church fellowship hall. Agrarian Ales, a brewer in Eugene I'd never heard of, had their Premiere Saison on tap. When the Senior Warden ordered his second glass and the keg blew, we immediately went to Plan B and brought a bottle of La Fin Du Monde to the bar and split it. All of this went very well with my Groovin Reuben panini sandwich. It was a delicious way to cap off a good day.
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