Joy In Movie Making

I played hooky today, working from home and taking care of my daughter who was ill. I had been to the Library a few days ago and grabbed a couple of DVDs off the shelf. One of these as purge joy.

"The Artist", starring the charming and charismatic Jean Dujardin and the beautiful and sweet Bérénice Bejo was just that a; joy to the visual senses. Shown in theaters in 2011, the film was set in the late 20's, early 30s. Filmed entirely in black and white and semi-silent, the film relied on all that charm and beauty to reach for the stars. The story chronicles the moment in time where silent films are supplanted by talkies. There are many visual references to silence and noise, and the motif is used throughout. Though mostly silent, there is a wonderful musical accompaniment throughout, and a few occasional and appropriate uses of sound scattered throughout.


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Nominated for 10 academy awards, the movie garnered 5...and worthy of each.  I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, and would watch it again and recommend it. Remarkable for me, besides the effective lack of sound and color, was the fact that true romance was demonstrated by a few tender, non-explicit moments, some silent tears, and truly loving gesture...and not the heavy handed naked bed scenes in so many other modern movies.

Two Thumbs up...check it out.

Liberal Conservative And Billy Beer

I have mostly been successful at avoiding lighting myself up like a Vegas billboard with brand-name advertising. Since those early 80's Jordache Jeans I talked myself into during those embarrassing disco days of my young debauchery. Sure, the name Levi's still gets my attention, but it stops and ends there. You won't see me with swoops on my shoes or Polo Ponies on my pocket.

It probably stems back to my poor Catholic Parochial upbringing...why try to keep up with the well off kids in my school while I was wearing rummage school seconds and hand me downs from my brother. If you can't keep up with the Jones' (Or Murphy's or Bakers, etc.), then why try. Mom would buy me a couple pair of jeans and a couple t-shirts at the start of the school year....if it was good enough for me then...it's good enough for me now.

Somehow, I was lucky with my daughters too. Aside from a few name brands here and there, they were always satisfied with the easy going store labels and brands. They never were and never have been brand name addicts.

From some perspectives...the labels people wear speak volumes about there tastes and preferences.

There is something about seeing a girl with 'Pink' labeled shorts on....

That reminds me of baboon butts

Or, how about...for $60.00 less then a Billabong brand shirt...

You can buy a vintage Billy Beer T-Shirt and speak so much clearly and deeply about just who you are. Are you a man, or a consumer?

Now, the people that can afford and buy designer....they probably feel that I'm just jealous. Maybe they are right to some degree. I remember the time I wore a second hand shirt my parents had bought for me to school only to have one rude boy walk up and say, 'that used to be mine, my Mom gave it to the rummage sale'. OUCH!

So sure, that would make a difference. Perhaps there is some jealousy in my makeup. I remember when my buddy Steve broke his forearm, he had this cool cast with tons of signatures....

I know at the time...I was thinking ...who the heck would I get to sign my cast...my brothers and sisters???? Ouch.

So, I admit, there was probably some culture class influences to my personality from early on. But even then, even admitting that....I just don't see the enjoyment one gets from walking around in clothes with 'designer labels' featured prominently in the attire. It's no longer a matter of being able to afford the attire. I think I could budget a couple hundred for some designer shoes, or perhaps a couple thousand for an Armani suit....but to what purpose? Where is the rush from flaunting some flamer fashion boy's name on my pocket?

Labels.

Tomorrow is the Presidential Election. Many people think this is one of the most important elections in the 21st Century. I feel a lot of that is still racial, personally. Too many white people intimidated by a black president. I know, that is oversimplifying things. But on occasion, the racism thing does seep out. I heard a family member one day say that the President should be shot. All politics aside...what exactly has our elected president done to deserve such vitriolic ire? 

 But labels has become such a big part of our culture that throwing labels around is like confetti.

Liberals.

Socialists.

Extremists.

Right Wing Nut Jobs.

Tree Huggers.

Republicans.

Democrats.

The list goes on and on...

In this election day, I hope that I, and those of you out there...can set aside all the labels and monikers, and prejudices, and hard-heartedness. Please seek candidates with character and integrity. Seek humble men and women who can lead our nation and the great State of Arizona with dignity. Seek leaders of men, not mere labels.

A great American once said...

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

Cheers, NCA

Miracles Are All Around You

At the time I was working at Scottsdale Public Library part time, I think I was a library page. I was going to school at ASU full time. I lived in a little apartment near Papago Park, close to Oak Street and 52nd, in Phoenix.

I owned a 1978 Kawasaki 350, which was my only means of transportation. It was one of 3 Motorcycles I would own during those youthful years. It was a pretty good ride, and living in Phoenix Arizona poor weather days were rare, so it was pretty reliable.

Sometimes I would wear my helmet, sometimes I wouldn't. It was not a law at that time in Phoenix, so it was a hit or miss thing. I did pick up my helmet and wear it one fall day, back in the early 80's.

This particular evening, I had got off work at the Civic Center Library, and it was that twilight hour, just as the sun was going down. I had turned on to to Thomas, west bound. Some big Lincoln pulled out of Gas Station directly in front of me without seeing me at all.

My experience on my years of street biking was that the rider (yeah, me) was more or less invisible to cars. Car and truck drivers did not expect me, and therefore could not see me. I had learned to think fast and always expect the unexpected.

But I did not expect the Lincoln Towncar directly in front of me. I had barely even tried to brake as I plowed into the side of it. I actually flew over the hood of the Lincoln and landed on the other side...head first.

Miracle one, that I was even wearing my helmet.

But I was hurting, immobile. Someone called 911, I don't know who. Some lady nurse was at the gas station and saw the entire thing. She was one of the first people on the scene. She would tell me later that what she saw and heard and led her to believe that my accident could be fatal. She said she saw the bone in my forearm was exposed, bleeding. She said she saw me land head first, over the top of the Towncar. She told me that she said a prayer over me. I heard all this when she came to the hospital to check on me later that night.

I had on a down jacket, I remember seeing feathers all over the place. It was a comical image that still makes me smile to this day.

The paramedics came and cut off the jacket, immobilized me and sent me to Scottsdale Memorial.

After XRAYS and examinations, it was confirmed...nothing at all was wrong with me. Not even one broken bone. My Care, from the paramedics to the ER staff was at all times professional and caring. I felt safe and in the best hands at all times.

Miracle two. Or Three...(do I count the nurse who was there on the scene, the good Samaritan...the prayers?). Nothing. Outside of soreness, stiffness, some bruises and contusions...there was nothing at all wrong with me.

The curbside nurse who came in to visit said she could not understand how my arm was not broken in the least. She told me that it must have had healed itself. I can not dispute or confirm or deny...I was only barely conscious.I only know what she told me.

I still have a scar and a dent in the arm where she said she saw the bone. My motorcycle was totalled in the accident. My helmet had a dent in it where my head hit the pavement, it too was never usable again. The bike and the helmet were done. I had lots of soreness and had to go stay with my Mom and sister for about a week...but outside of that...nothing else was wrong.

I do believe in Miracles. I don't know for sure that one happened to me that day, but maybe. I do believe that there are good Samaritans and angels out there...I met more than one that day, and I have met others over time.

There are strangers that I owe my life too, so if people ask me if I think people are basically good or basically bad...I am a half full guy. You can see that I have my reasons.

Oh, and nurse lady...good Samaritan...and all you Scottsdale paramedics and ER workers out there...keep doing what you are doing. The world needs to know that there are people like you out there.

Cheers...nca