TALES AND TAILS

Flowing

  Creeks and waterways are beginning to resemble their old selves again. The vaunted El Nino has been producing rain in California, including on the drought stricken Central Coast.

 Driving in the rain in California is akin to driving in snow or on ice elsewhere. Since rain is about the only diversion from sunshine and blue skies in most of California, rain is a big story.

    But after four years of drought, every drop is a cause celeb.

   Here on the Central Coast, half way between LA and San Francisco, it looks as though we are in for a week of rain, with a few hours between cells that allow the ground to soak it up.

   Back in Indiana we never gave much thought to rain, unless it was ruining a picnic, ball game, wedding or etc. due in large part to the fact there is so much rain. Here it is a seasonal oddity and some people and most animals are frightened by it. Really!

THE CATS TALE

   So we begin with the end, before the tail, or tale.

 Joy, on the left and Hemingway are young enough to have missed what a California Central Coast winter is like. All they know is the abnormally warm and dry winters of the past couple of years. So this year, cooler temperatures and rain have them in a dither.
  Because of allergies, they spend their time on the deck and porch and in the garden on the hill. They sleep in the garage.

     To help them through their first real winter and recognizing their love for boxes, Lana made a Cat Condo. They've taken to it. The connecting "door" allows cuddling.

   Hemingway was perturbed I disturbed his nap for a photo op.

   Nighty night!

   See you down the trail.

THE WINNER IS…&…AND DEFINING LOVE

THE WINNER

   At dinner the other evening our friend Jill Turnbow, an actor and director said the Academy might as well hand out the Best Actor Oscar now to Eddie Redmayne.  She's right. 
   We see a lot of films and it is hard to imagine how anyone can top the job Redmayne did in the DANISH GIRL
   His portrayal of Dr. Stephen Hawking won him the Oscar last year in a performance of a lifetime-that is until he portrays Einer Wegener a Danish landscape painter who becomes Lili Elbe in one of the first sex change operations.
    As Einer and then as Lili, Redmayne is extraordinary and that word is hardly sufficient. So much of the emotional story is portrayed in his face, his looks and takes and hesitations. His eyes are an acting force unto themselves. 
    There is a contemporary political charge to the story set in the 1920's. Redmayne's acting and that of Alicia Vikander as his wife Gerda reveal the psychological trauma of transgender  metamorphosis. It is a pivot in life fraught with unimaginable torment and distress. Still this is a love story that at least stretches if not redefines love. Vikander as the wife who looses her husband but who still loves the person creates a cinematic allegory that all of us can learn from. Oh how I wish narrow-minded and judgmental self appointed moralists would open their minds the slightest sliver to see and take in the truly human dimension of those who suffer as Wegener did.
      At least we no longer declare transgender people insane and we may be gaining a better sensitivity. Redmayne and Vikander under director Tom Hooper (The Kings Speech and Les Miserables) offer extraordinary testament to the human saga. And Redmayne creates a role that must be seen to know sheer genius and acting as a force of nature.

THE NFL AS A FORCE OF EVIL?

   Cinema as Truth

     It is a wonder the film CONCUSSION was made. If only a portion of what we read is true, the NFL and its henchmen and minions have done what they can from allowing this moment of truth to sneak out of their dark empire. What we read is true, of course and the NFL has finally come to grips with the fact their "game" is causing its players to loose their minds, health and lives.

    Will Smith deserves a nomination for his portrayal of Dr. Bennet Omalu, the forensic pathologist who made the link of serial concussions to the brain disease that was driving former NFL players into madness, despair, violence and suicide.The condition is CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) This is all true, though the NFL did everything they could to discredit Omalu, his research and the work of others.

    "This is not medicine, this is business" is a line from the film at a time when Omalu and a former team doctor confront an NFL medical representative. It is a huge business and if there is science that links the serial head jarring of football to later CTE the impact would be/will be massive. From pee-wee leagues to the pros, players are subjected to force that leads to a disease state. The statistics are staggering, though the NFL tried to cover it up.  Their settlement with the players, after years of denial and lies, further seals the information on what they knew about concussions and when they knew it.  

     Full disclosure here; I watch professional football. I have worked and socialized with active and retired NFL players and executives. I've had professional contact with a couple of NFL owners. With the exception of the owners, the men I know are good guys, competitors, athletes and are driven. Some players are thugs, criminals and tolerated because of their talent. Good guys or thugs the bottom line is money-big money. Players have a small window and know they will likely end up with ailments and thus want to earn as much as they can for using their bodies as they do. 

     Despite the spin they blather, the owners are rich men and women who extort money from cities for stadium and concession deals, who covet the big TV money, and are not above lying or heavy handed tactics to protect their pile of money. Even bigger money is their bottom line, adding to their pile despite who gets hurt, fired or trampled in the process. Truth is not a part of their modus operandi, as they have proven time and time again. 

    Albert Brooks, who is brilliant as Pittsburgh Coroner Cyril Wecht, says the "NFL owns one day of the week, a day that used to belong to the church." There is no doubt Americans love professional football. It follows then that all of us bear a responsibility in the spread of CTE and the pain and death it leads to. 87 former NFL players, now deceased tested positive for CTE. Those 87 are out of 94 who's brains were tested. The research is still in it's infancy. Imagine where this will go. 4,500 former players have sued the NFL.

     Former stars, Mike Webster, Terry Long, Junior Seau and Dave Duerson committed suicide. It was the horrible fall from fame into a life of darkness of Pittsburgh's iron man and community hero Mike Webster in 2002 that started Dr. Omalu on this trail. What did the NFL know before that? We'll likely never know because their commissioner and his masters, the team owners sealed the information as part of a package settlement. 

     CONCUSSION is a good film with moments of uplift and faith. It is also a speaking of truth to power. In this case the power is the NFL and in this role it is a powerful force of evil and greed.

      Will Smith, Albert Brooks, David Morse as Mike Webster, Gugu Mbatha-Raw and Alec Baldwin turn in great performances, but are also courageous for taking the roles in this very important film.

   See you down the trail.

WHEN MEMORIES BREAK LOOSE

 BALANCING THE YEAR

     Memories seem to escape when the brain is between taking balance of the past year and resolving for the new year, about to dawn.

      I think when we get to a certain age we need to just let them fly, enjoy what they bring and leave their significance to the Fates. Our threads are woven as they are.

     A raw damp chill had descended like a shroud over the city, locked in winter's bleakness, painted by dirty snow and dark gray skies. It made the old wood framed house with peeling paint and a tilting porch look more desperate. It was a neighborhood in decline. Once big old homes were now boarded, abandoned or cut into squalid apartments. We'd come to the right address.

     We were making a benevolence delivery. Weeks of food supplies, clothing and gifts for a matriarch, her grand children and her mostly absent daughter, fighting addiction. I heard commotion as I knocked on the door, some desperate voices then in a flash the front door opened and a tall, stout man-boy grunted something at me and ran off into the snow and street without  shoes, wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. 

    "Oh my God, he's running" a small and worn older woman yelled. "Get him, don't let him get away!" 

     A sad eyed little girl, our delivery sheet listed her as 7, looked out from behind the frantic woman standing in the doorway. "Please help!"

     Lana, standing by the car holding the first box to be delivered was startled as I ran down the steps and gave chase.

     The lad ran with a strange gait and yelled something guttural as he zig-zagged into the street then into piles of dirty snow. Not sure what to do, I caught up with him and found that standing in front of him caused him to turn and run back the other way.  

      "Hey, we've got presents for you. Let's get back inside" I chided as he loped. He stopped and I was able to put a hand on his shoulder and take an elbow to guide him back to the house.

      Grandmother was relieved but confessed as to how she could no longer handle him. I was concerned she was near collapse. Lana tended her and got her to sit. I stood by the front door and the man child went to a chair and sat looking at  the television.

      "He can't help himself" the sweet brown eyed girl said.

"He was born that way. He gets too excited sometimes." In that moment something deep inside convinced me she spoke with a wisdom that far surpassed her years. "Gramma does the best she can."

      We made the delivery, bringing in the other boxes and food. Handed out the gifts. Gramma made tea and offered us a cup as she related the heart breaking history that brought us all to this moment. The girl helped her brother open a gift. Calm returned and there was food and a modicum of cheer in the threadbare home.

      "Now we'll have a beautiful Christmas and this house will be happy" the little girl said as we departed. She hugged Lana and shook my hand.

      That precious child came to mind as I watched JOY the remarkable David Russell film starring Jennifer Lawrence as Joy Mangano who went from a tough beginning to being a successful inventor and entrepreneur. 

       Russell says he drew not only from Mangano's life but also from other extraordinary women. It's a powerful film and certainly the story of perseverance and overcoming. Mangano is pleased with the film. Even though creative liberties are taken, it hews closely to fact. 

       Jennifer Lawrence is again brilliant. She's on a path to be the Meryl Streep or Helen Mirren of her generation. Robert Di Niro, Diane Ladd as grandmother, Isabella Rossellini, Dascha Polanco as Joy's life long friend, Virginia Madsen, and Bradley Cooper are all wonderful in major roles.  Isabella Crovetti-Cramp as the young Joy makes a stirring debut.

      Joy is superbly entertaining, funny, poignant, informative and fresh.

     Michael Caine says his work in YOUTH is his best ever.

It could be. He is compelling in his every scene in Paolo Sorrentino's art film of finding meaning or significance regardless of age. This is not your typical movie. An Italian director, Sorrentino brings an artistic and creative tool set to the film. It is the best of a European sensitivity with Caine, Harvey Keitel, Rachel Weisz, Paul Dano and Jane Fonda. 

      This is not a film everyone will enjoy, but if you like creative and artistic uses of cinema and solid acting this is worth your time. Men of certain age will find some of the Caine and Keitel exchanges hilarious. 

     We found that seeing YOUTH which is really about age and hope, certainly appropriate as we approach the turn of the calendar. 

Time does fly

      Photo by Bruce Taylor aka Catalyst

A kid version of Lana and Tom 

    I've often spoken of perhaps the most beautiful snow fall. It was in Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona. The flakes dropped silently, peacefully as we drove into the canyon, covering the ground in a blanket and filling the pine and oak boughs without wind. It was all gentle and serene as though being in a snow globe. It was in the winter of 1973. When I touch that memory it seems as close as a couple of months ago, certainly not 42 years. A vivid moment of life.

    Ah, yes. The closing of a year when memories break loose.

Enjoy!

    See you down the trail.

     

BOXING DAY LEFTOVERS

GOOD

    Christmas dinner was cleared from the table and we were ready for a walk on the beach when we spotted this from the front deck. At some point there was even a small pop up shower. All interpreted as a good sign.

TRADITIONS

     The plastic icicle below is from Lana's childhood. She remembers when her mother brought home the glow in the dark speciality. It was 1950 and 65 years later both of our daughters have expressed an interest. Looks like the items are on the way to being antiques.

     The somewhat worn angel below is a second generation tree topper and comes with a bit of mystery. 
    

  It is a "new" version of the angel that topped the Christmas trees of my youth. It was my dad's favorite ornament and each year it was placed atop the pine with appropriate decorum and good vibes. I inherited the original, taped together, the spun glass barely recognizable and really a somewhat pathetic sight. Then in a Christmas shop with the kids one year I found her, the only one in inventory and even a mystery to the manager who was unsure of the price.
I took that to be a bit of Christmas magic. She has taken her place of honor for many years.

A TRADITION BEGINS

    A couple of years ago our eldest, Kristin, produced a heavenly batch of Yorkshire Pudding popovers. They immediately became one of her dad's favorites. Younger sister Katherine, who share's Kristin's culinary talents, has followed suit.  Though Kristin, weeks from becoming a mommy, could join us only by phone, those of us on the West coast enjoyed her recipe done expertly by Katherine. 

    PEACE.

    See you down the trail.

FOR EVERYONE

Peace and Cheer

    Wrapped up in this time of year is the annual palaver-how much Christmas is in Christmas?

     There's revulsion by some about commercializing  Christmas. Keep Christ in Christmas is a generational mantra. Of recent we hear volumes on the propriety of wishing a Merry Christmas instead of the neutral "happy holiday." None of this would assail our ears if not for the tradition of celebrating the birth of Jesus. All of it from decking halls, festive celebrations, gift buying and giving, faith observances, choirs, carols, Frosty the Snowman to Rudolph and parties and more share a nexus.

     Christmas observances this year vary widely from 1915 as it did from 1815 and so on for 2000 years. Culture changes how we celebrate and remember. 
     An offer of "Merry Christmas" is both aspirational and universal. Everyone is entitled to hear or wish and to enjoy a Merry Christmas. One need not be Christian to have a Merry Christmas nor even to wish that for others be they Muslim, Jew, Hindu, Taoist, Buddhist, Sikh, Wiccan, agnostic, Deist, atheist, Christian or whatever.

     Merry Christmas are not fighting words, they are words of peace.

  Christmas 1863 was hard for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The poet's wife died in a fire and his son, against his admonition, went to the Civil War. Longfellow wrote CHRISTMAS BELLS that year. The poem was published in 1865. Despair, loss of faith and hope and then something in the bells….

   It has become an oft recorded carol, though unlike most.

      Merry Christmas!  PEACE.

      See you down the trail.

THE POWER OF THE GREETING

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

     Not sure what the stats show but it's my hunch fewer Christmas cards are being sent via US Mail. A) some folks no longer send cards and B) like so many things in life cards have also moved to cyberspace.

Snow Angel by Jacquie Lawson

          Lana has made our cards since we've been married. For several years she laments, "this is the last time I'm going to do it," but each year she is grabbed again by the old tradition. She creates the card and I write the message.

      I am a great fan of the tradition. I love receiving the beautiful works of art and am moved by the sentiment and message. Like my father before me and his before him, I love the Christmas Season, everything about it and especially the cards. Here is a chance to think about each of the recipients and to recall their role in your life and memories. As a youngster I didn't "get" the idea of the Christmas letter, of course the writer, the events and people were known by parents, for whom the message had significance. Now I look forward to the letters and notes and feel a special connection and bond.
       When the season ends, we put the cards away and then in June get them out and after dinner for a week or two read a few of the cards and messages again. 

     There is something good about the care, selection and pause in life for reflection that Christmas cards signify. Addressing envelopes, signing and adding messages, taking them to the mail box or selecting electronic cards and entering personal emails are an act of thoughtfulness, caring and decency.

     It is a simple thing in an increasingly complicated world. But for that moment that we gaze at a scene or read the words we may feel something, remember, connect and have a good human moment. That is something extraordinary.

     It is thought the first Christmas cards were sent in the 1840's in England. An industry and a culture has followed. What do you think about cards?  

And There Is Also This….

     There is a beautiful rhythm to the story behind this. My friend Ray calls and asks if we'll be around in the next day or two.  "I have a little something to drop by," he says.

     After our years in Cambria I know what that means, and I start salivating immediately.

    Terri, Ray's better half, could well be the undisputed Cheesecake champion of California and all points east. Her creations are tastes of heaven! I consider myself a bit of a Cheesecake connoisseur and Terri's are in a league all of their own.

     I'm not sure Ray had cleared the end of our driveway before I was untying the bow, had plates on the counter and the pie cutter ready to go to work.

     Yea, there's a lot to make this the most wonderful time of the year!

    See you down the trail.

      

ON THE EDGE

MORE THAN RANDOM MISSES

    An eerie thought occurred as I watched the meteor shower splashing the sky. While it's not for everyone, I'm lucky to live where it is dark, very dark with a minimum of light and light pollution. I joke with my friend Frank, back in beautiful Falls Church Va, that I moved west to watch rockets being launched (Vandenberg AFB) a particularly spectacular sight because of the dark sky. Actually the sky is not dark, it's deep and rich and so full of stars it has dimension and space has a shape and texture. So on a recent evening I'm on the deck watching the zips and streaks and the next night I'm soaking in the spa when it dawns on me how extraordinary it is that we escape being hit by all of these flying icebergs and chunks of rock.

    It's not the kind of thought you want to sneak into your brain before bed time, especially if you tend to be anxious I suppose. There is a ton of stuff flying out there and of course science tells us this blue planet has been nailed before, probably several times. So from this land where you watch rockets, real cowboys, surfers, enjoy the beauty of vineyards and breathe Pacific air it might not be surprising that one begins to contemplate space ship earth and it's delicate fragility in a cosmos that goes beyond the bounds of rational and finite thought. Beyond finite, that presents a problem so we come up with infinite. Where precisely does infinite begin to be infinite, and what does it mean that it never ends?  Actually, don't give either of those much thought or you may find yourself drooling in your shoes. Still we can ponder how lucky we are that our course has, for the last few thousand years at least, kept us from a head on collision with a space brick or mountain.

     I wonder if we spent more time looking up, or wondering about cosmic eventualities, if we wouldn't be a little nicer to each other and to our planet and its limited resources. Greed, malice, hate, anger, war, zealotry and all of that kind of behavior would look pretty barbaric and primitive to someone looking in from way up high. In however long we humans have been jogging around this globe we never get far from acting like lower animals hanging around a swamp. Despite what our better minds and loving souls have done, a lot of homo sapiens act like thugs or brain washed lab animals. I saw a great cartoon that had God sitting and looking through a scope at planet earth.  He says to Jesus or an attending angel-"If it weren't for the dogs, I'd have blown up that place  long ago."

      Well, it seems we got lucky in this last Geminid meteor shower, spared again.  Wonder if we could evolve a bit more or make some personality improvement this Christmas season?

SPEAKING OF WHICH

    Once the kids are no longer in the house a little of the Christmas magic goes with them. Still we pull down the boxes  from the attic and Lana transforms normal to the festive spirit of the season. She's talked about getting a smaller tree and we may do that, someday. The tree is a direct cerebral link to family Christmas' past and especially one on South Ebright Street in Muncie. 
     I must have been six. It was the first year the big time magic of the season etched into my little brain. The scenes are still indelible. Our little two bedroom VA financed home looked out at a street light that during this season seemed always to be wrapped in swirling snow. A real life snow globe! The tree was strung in those big old fashioned colored lights. Mom, no real artist created a Bon ami snow scape scene on the living room mirror and the window in the front door. I thought they were shear beauty. We had a record player, not a high fi, but a little player with speakers attached and I played needle drop over and over and over on Silent Night and Gene Autry's Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Life could never be more perfect, so full of pure joy and wonder.

     So, I still like Christmas trees. When we were first married we could spend hours, canvassing several lots for the "right tree."  Now we go the garden center, look for one in our height range and bingo bango pick a tree with almost no hesitation.

A little crooked? No trouble. A little uneven? No problem.  

  No matter, the noble green is worthy of holding the ornaments and memories and taking its place in the long line of trees in our Christmas dreams. There was a time we  planted live trees. It's rewarding to think of how tall they've become and how many seasons of light and hope they've shared. 

LIVE WATER

  Rainy season has begun and with promise we'll make a dent in the drought.  Here Santa Rosa Creek makes entry into the Pacific on Moonstone Beach in Cambria.

GOOD FLICKS
TRUMBO

       Bryan Cranston as Dalton Trumbo is enough reason to see this film. He's extraordinary, again. But so is the film about the tyranny of the "black list," right wing thought police, cowards and hate mongers and the courage to speak your mind. 

       The bad guys, as they truly were in the dark era, are John Wayne, Ronnie Reagan, Hedda Hopper and weasel politicians on the House Un American Activities Committee.

      Unexpected heroes are Lucille Ball, Kirk Douglas and Otto Preminger. This film, based on fact, is full of great performances including, Helen Mirren, Louis CK, Diane Lane, John Goodman and Elle Fanning. Director Jay Roach and screenwriter John McNamara attack the difficult question of how free can and should we be to think and speak. This is an intelligent script and is probably too much for some to think about it. But has history reveals, it should be thought about. As some current politicians demonstrate, maybe it could happen again.
       Trumbo is American history and civics, warts and all.

BROOKLYN

       As Lana told our daughters, "This is the kind of love story I like."

       It is also a great telling of the kind of transitions many of our relatives made, though this time the back drop is 1950's Brooklyn. 

       A splendid cast makes every moment a delight. Saoirse Ronan as the Irish lass is magnificent and those blue eyes are hypnotic. Jim Broadbent is a quiet master as his Father Flood is proof. Julie Walters as boardinghouse manager Mrs. Kehoe and Emory Cohen as the boy friend Tony both fill the screen-Walters with those darting dark eyed looks and Cohen with a smile that shines.

       Sweet, tender and uplifting-Brooklyn is a perfect "date night" film.

      See you down the trail.