My Island Family

by Pa Rock
Refugee

Last Friday evening I sent out an email bragging about how Tim's movie, The Brass Teapot, has been sold to a distributor, a move which means it will soon be available to the public in some venue - hopefully on the big screen, and also through DVD sales.  No sooner had I hit the send button than three emails from friends on Okinawa bounced back.  All three informed me of a sudden job opening back home - at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa.

And yes, it does seem like home.  There was a group of us, from different parts of the United States, who met through our work on that small island and became fast friends.   We worked together, played together, traveled together, and generally took care of one another.   We were out in a remote piece of the world, and we became family out of necessity - and stayed a family through love.

I read the emails at the theatre where I was waiting for a play to begin - when my phone rang.  Nefredia called to talk to me about the job, and just the sound of her pleasing voice pushed all of my emotional buttons.  I thought, "God how I miss those people!"

I won't be returning to Okinawa - at least not this year.  I sabotaged that possibility when I signed a year-lease for my government quarters.  I also have stuff to get rid of and property issues that will take at least a year to resolve.    But if anybody waives a return ticket to Okinawa in front of me this time next year, I'll knock them down getting to the airport!

And then there is my continuing dream of working in Europe and maybe even doing a stint in the Peace Corps.  My grand-aunt, Ethel Anderson, served in the Peace Corps when she was in her seventies.  And Doctors Without Borders also recruits the occasional social worker.

Watch out world, I'm coming back!

Parallel Lives

by Pa Rock
Theatre Aficionado

Things which run parallel to one another go on forever, side by side, without interfering with one another or intersecting.  The play, Parallel Lives, however, was hugely successful during its run in Phoenix because of two things that did intersect - great writing and superb acting!

The play, which I saw last night at the Nearly Naked Theatre in downtown Phoenix (the final performance) was written by Mo Gaffney and Kathy Najimy and chronicles modern life through the dialogues of two individuals, ably portrayed by Andrea Morales and Johanna Carlisle.  The dialogues ranged from God and creation to love, sex, abortion, and religion.  The situations were hard life, the language strong, and the emotion griping.

Unfortunately, I was unable to figure out which actor was Ms. Morales and which was Ms. Carlisle, but each had an outstanding monologue.  One kept the audience enthralled as she played a Jewish aunt discovering and coming to terms with the knowledge that her favorite nephew was gay.  The other portrayed a screaming protestor outside of an abortion clinic who explored her own complicated history of pregnancy and child-bearing between her screechy taunts of women trying to access the services of the clinic.   She was as mean and angry as someone crawling out of a Fred Phelps' van, and as fragile as a young girl whose life has just been capsized by an unwanted pregnancy.   It was an amazing piece of work.

The second actor also had a six-or-seven-minute pantomime in which she put herself through the motions of a young woman getting up and preparing for work.  There were no words, but there was also no problem in understanding her routine and the pressures associated with getting to work on time.

This play featured lots of physicality, and both actors were up to the challenge of using their bodies to tell the stories.

One of my few regrets about spending the last two years overseas was that I missed the wonderful theatre offerings of Phoenix.  If Parallel Lives was a good indicator, and I know that it was, this will be a great year for theatre in the Valley.

Equus will be returning to the Nearly Naked Theatre in January!

USA Today Does Phoenix - Poorly

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

While at the gym this morning, and without my glasses, I came across a puff piece in the USA Today travel section regarding Phoenix.   (I have reached an age when reading anything is difficult without my glasses - which I had left in the car so they wouldn't get dropped or broken, or slide off of my sweaty face while I was exercising. )   But as I took a break and sat down, I discovered a few segments of today's "national" newspaper, and the one that caught my eye was the one featuring the tale of just what a great spot Phoenix, Arizona, is for choosy travelers.

Sadly, the article was primarily about the tonier East Valley - over around Scottsdale and Tempe where the "better" elements of society meet for fine meals, refreshing lattes, and expensive golf and shopping.   The article mentioned a few restaurants and resorts - all of which seemed to be within spitting distance of Arizona State University, and it described that part of Phoenix is glowing terms, save one.  The article did concede that it was hot.

Yeah buddy, it's hot!

When technology advances to the point that entire communities can be air-cornditioned, indoors and out, Scottsdale will be among the very first to adopt it.  And it will be paid for through the taxes of many who can't afford to live there.

Scottsdale is where Kurt Russell goes to slip in a weekend of golf, and where Jennifer Anniston feels safe enough to rummage through the clothes racks at Nordstrom's.  It is so far out of the economic and social mainstream of the Phoenix area, that it has inspired the famous "Fuck Scottsdale" bumper sticker and tee-shirt movement.

A few years ago the city of Phoenix invested heavily in a "light rail" as a way of curbing traffic and moving into a more civilized future beyond the combustible engine.  The project was initiated in the area around Arizona State University where many people were already jogging or riding bicycles.  It is only a few miles in length, but plans are to extend it into the West Valley, where the majority of the people live, in another twenty years or so.   That is just one more reason to tax the rich!

The article also referred to Phoenix as being the gateway to the Grand Canyon.   Anyone who drives to the Grand Canyon from anywhere is either lost or a glutton for boring scenery and heat if they come through Phoenix.    If the GPS points you toward Phoenix, throw it out the window and head for Flagstaff.  It's cooler and much more civilized.

The city of Phoenix contains more than just the glitz surrounding ASU and the tonier resorts and watering holes.   Much of Phoenix is miles upon miles of simple housing and tile roofs that support swamp coolers.  It is real people doing real jobs that often serve to prop up the one-percent who lounge and play in Scottsdale.  It is a multi-cultural hodgepodge of sights, and sounds, and smells.  It is busy streets and businesses where people struggle to put food on their tables and maintain positive values that will prepare their children for success and better lives.    The only contact that any of these people have with the golf courses of Scottsdale is when a lucky few are called in to mow or do maintenance.

There are some really great things about Phoenix, but most involve the real people who live here - and they are primarily in the central, northern, and western portions of the city.  That's a Phoenix that USA Today missed altogether.

Beetle Juice Comes to Luke Air Base

by Pa Rock
Theatre Fan

A couple of years ago I saw a very simple version of The Devil and Daniel Webster put on by an amateur group called "The Luke Experience" at the old base theatre.  It was a simple production undoubtedly limited by scarce funds, but the group did a nice job and seemed to have a lot of fun putting it on.

Then I drifted off to Japan for two years...but now I'm back.

People are constantly moving onto and off of military bases, so I doubt that many of the young people involved in that production are still around - but the organization itself has remained.  Tonight I was back at the Luke Theatre where I enjoyed "The Luke Experience" production of Beetle Juice.

There are challenges to be expected in putting on a play in a building designed to serve as a movie theatre, and Beetle Juice is a technically demanding endeavor, but the small acting and production troupe handled it well.  The set was somewhat sad, and the necessity of turning spotlights on and off for set changes was annoying - but the actors knew their lines and delivered them realistically.  More importantly than that, however, was the fact that they were obviously having fun displaying their talents and putting on the show for friends and families.

The "star" of the evening was the man himself, Betelgeuse, ably played by Cris Ceroni.  The actor channeled Michael Keaton, and indeed often seemed to be playing Keaton playing Betelgeuse.  He was a roguish delight.  The play's director, Lacey Quattlebaum (whom I suspect may have been involved in the first production that I saw at Luke a few years ago) also was on stage as Lydia Deetz, the untalented sculptor who was anxious to become accepted into the arts community.  She was the lead performer when she and her group of socialite friends suddenly found themselves singing and dancing to Harry Belafonte's Banana Boat Song.   That segment was hilarious!

Beetle Juice will have its second and final showing tomorrow night - and would be an enjoyable way to spend Saturday evening if you happen to be at Luke Air Force Base.  (I will be downtown tomorrow night watching Parallel Lives, but that is a completely different blog posting!)

"The Luke Experience" will be performing The Rocky Horror Picture Show on November 10th and 11th.  Dammit, Janet - I really want to see that one!  They also have plans to tackle Oliver Twist after that.  More please!

While Arizona has many, many, many drawbacks - a lack of theatrical venues is not one of them.  I hope that the Luke troupe continues to bring a small measure of culture to this desert wasteland for years to come!

Great work, guys!  Michael Keaton would have loved it!

Exploring Family History Through DNA

by Pa Rock
Genealogist

I have been doing genealogical research and collecting historical information on my family for over thirty years.  The effort began in the pre-Internet days when it was much more difficult and time-consuming.  Creating a family record involved interviewing the family old-timers, visiting libraries, county courthouses, funeral homes, and cemeteries.  It was also necessary to send requests for records (like birth, marriage, and death certificates) - along with ever-increasing fees - to various state archives.  Today, of course, much family history can be obtained by just clicking through the Internet.   Most of my first-hand research is posted on the web where it can be easily accessed by others, and thousands of others have their work posted there as well.

However the World Wide Web will only take you so far.  I can trace a couple of lines back four hundred years, but the years beyond that are quickly lost in the mists of time.  Even the European royals whose family history is often well documented for dozens of generations, generally can’t get much further back that fifteen hundred years or so.  The Japanese royals can go back beyond that, but only by about another thousand years.  That still leaves a million years or more in which we basically have no idea who our ancestors were or what they were doing.

Several years ago my youngest son sent me information on a professional organization that was collecting DNA for genealogical/historical purposes.  Actually, as I was soon to discover, there were several groups out with similar programs.  I learned that some were less reputable than others, and some even sold your personal DNA information to the evil insurance companies so that they could learn a person’s likelihood of developing certain ailments.

The completion of the mapping of the human genome and the rapid expansion of technology has led to the ability to collect and classify large amounts of DNA data from around the world, and from that, the ability to map a person’s ancestral migrations over thousands of years.

The National Geographic Society, a completely reputable and very well respected organization, has been building a DNA database for several years.   They have recently started the second phase of their Genographic Project and are soliciting individuals to have their DNA tested and entered into their database (for a handsome fee of $200).   The Society states that they use an exclusive, custom-built genotyping chip to test nearly 150,000 DNA markers that are “specifically selected to provide unprecedented ancestry-related information.”

The Society declares that by participating, individuals will:     

•  Discover migration paths your ancient ancestors followed hundreds – even thousands – of years ago, with an unprecedented view of your ancestral journey.
• Learn what percentage of your genome is affiliated with specific regions of the world.
•  Find if you have Neanderthal or Denisovan ancestry.
• Have the opportunity to share your story and connect with other Genographic Project participants, helping us fill in the gaps in the human story.

For the two hundred dollars, participants are provided with a “kit” and materials for a cheek swab which is then mailed off to the National Geographic Society’s labs.  After the participants get their results, they can then decide if they want to become part of the Society’s collection of data that is used to study where humans originated and how they came to populate the earth.   The Society is quick to state that it does not share any personal information with outside agencies.

I have sent for my kit and am anxious to explore my early family history.   If I am satisfied with the process and the quality of the experience, I will help to provide the same experience and information for my grandchildren.  It will all be an important part of their heritage - and should bring "show and tell" at school to a whole new level!

(Note:  I am in no way associated with the National Geographic Society - and I am paying full price for my kit.)

The Bloody Hands of Terry Jones

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Florida “pastor” Terry Jones who heads a little Christian fundamentalist “church” in Gainesville, Florida, called the Dove World Outreach Center (which sounds far more impressive than it actually is), has more blood on his hands than the average insane terrorist.    In his ever-increasing efforts to feed his attention-starved ego, Jones has perpetrated or participated in several stunts that have resulted in the deaths of over four dozen individuals. 

Jones, a native of Cape Girardeau, Missouri, where he was a high school classmate of radio mouth Rush Limbaugh, is devoutly anti-abortion and anti-gay, but more than that he is savagely anti-Muslim.  One of his most publicized stunts was two years ago in September of 2010 when he was planning a big Koran-burning to show his opposition to the Islamic religion and its Muslim followers.   President Obama intervened with a personal telephone call to the miscreant “minister” and convinced him to call off the religious sacrilege.   But just the threat of burning the Korans resulted in rioting in the Middle East and a death toll of nineteen.

Six months later, in March of 2011, Jones followed through on his threat and actually held a mock trial of a Koran at his “church.”  The poor holy book was found guilty and burned for its crimes.  Rioting in the Middle East after that attention-getting stunt resulted in twenty-four deaths.

June of this year found Jones again begging to be noticed.  This time he hung President Obama in effigy from a gallows in front of his “church,” and then buried the effigy, though it was probably not a Christian burial.  The Secret Service investigated that stunt, but sadly Terry Jones continues to roam free and run amok.

The most recent Jones’ outrage occurred this week, again in the Middle East, where rioters, in reaction to an anti-Islamic movie that Jones claimed to have promoted, stormed the U.S. Embassy in Cairo and attacked the embassy in Benghazi, Libya, where eight Middle Eastern nationals and four Americans were killed including U.S. Ambassador Chris Stevens.   President Obama and Secretary of State Clinton have both expressed outrage over the incident (and Mitt Romney has voiced outrage at what he sees as an apologetic tone from the Obama administration), but none of these political leaders have directed their anger at the intolerant individuals, including Terry Jones, who foisted this religious insult onto the Internet.

Today Army General Martin Dempsey, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, fed the Jones' ego again by telephoning him and asking that he back off of his promotion of the anti-Islamic movie.   Dempsey asked him to consider the "tensions it could inflame and the violence it could cause."   That, of course, was undoubtedly music to Jones' ears, because his primary goals are to inflame and incite.

The "minister" reportedly intends to follow through with plans to have a showing of the movie in his "church." 

What will be next, Terry?  Hanging a four-star general in effigy?

It is time that Terry Jones (and others like him) are called to account for their insidious provocations, actions that deliberately inflame religious tensions and result in the deaths of dozens.  The courts long ago determined that freedom of speech has limits – such as the infamous yelling of “fire” in a crowded theatre – so that same principle should surely come into play here. 

“Reverend” Jones has overstepped the bounds of human decency, and for that he needs to be held accountable.   Jesus would be mortified at the hate coming from this individual.  Terry Jones is clearly not a Christian in any decent sense of the word.

While I may not be in favor of jailing the provocateur and thus making him a martyr to every religious bigot in America, a good caning would certainly be in order.

A Reprieve from the Heat

by Pa Rock
Desert Rat

This week marks two months since I have been back in the Valley of Hell, and every day of those two months has been marred by unholy hot temperatures.  But today, out of the blue, things were suddenly pleasant - not just cooler, but pleasant!  I never listen to weather reports because the weather out here tends to never vary, so this sudden change in temperature was a complete and utter (and most welcome) surprise!

I did hear that it is supposed to warm back up later in the week, but hey, I'll take  one or two days of comfort every two months.  I'm not proud!

I'm still unpacking and sorting.  I try to empty two boxes a day, and this evening I managed to empty five!    So now instead of being unpacked by Christmas, I am bearing down on Thanksgiving!

This weekend I am taking in two plays.  A local group at Luke is putting on "Beetlejuice," Friday and Saturday nights.  I plan on attending Friday.  They did one play when I was here before, "The Devil and Daniel Webster," which served as a pleasant night out, so I am anxious to see this offering.  Saturday I am going downtown to see "Parallel Lives," which sounds like it will be worth the drive across Phoenix.  I only saw two live plays the entire time I was on Okinawa, so it will really be good to get back into the theatre scene here in Arizona.

And if they weather is decent this weekend, well - that's just gravy!

Birther Fest Flops

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Joe Arpaio had a bit of good news last week when the Feds announced that they were not going to file any criminal charges against our windbag of a sheriff.   But that was then, and this is now - and now the publicity-seeking lawman has hit a bump on the ego expressway.

Old Joe, whose crime-busting is usually focused on tame pursuits like harassing maids, cooks, and landscapers or investigating the family history of Barack Obama, had been planning to hold a really big birther rally in Phoenix on September 22nd.  Pat Boone was going to be there to croon about writing love letters in the sand, and a former Army officer named Terry Lakin was going to stir the crowd with tales of his heroism for refusing to serve in Afghanistan because he felt that our black President was not really an American.

(Lakin went to prison for declining to serve in the war zone, and now his minions are making noise on the Internet asking people to pressure the President to grant him a pardon.   So I guess that our President, who doesn't have the Constitutional authority to wage war, does have the authority to pardon a coward.   Go figure.)

Anyway, Old Joe was going to lead this motley crew in some sort of right-wing laugh-a-palooza for the modest price of just $10 a ticket, proceeds of which were going into Joe's political war chest - already reported to be in excess of $4 million.  But after weeks of shamelessly hyping the event, tickets weren't selling and Joe was forced to pull the plug.

Not to worry though.  If there's a way to get in front of a camera, Sheriff Joe will find it.   He can always put together an immigrant sweep and tie up traffic for hours on end.  And he doesn't have to worry about financing those staged events - the taxpayers take care of that for him.

(I still can't believe all of those old biddies in Sun City didn't want to convoy across town in golf carts and throw their pantaloons at Pat Boone!)

Back to the Valley of Hell

by Pa Rock
Weary Grandpa

I was on the road well before daylight today riding a bus across Toronto and on to the Lester Pearson Airport.   The large Air Canada passenger jet that I eventually boarded hauled me and many others directly from Toronto to Phoenix.  (I know, it's even hard for me to believe a planeload of people, many of whom were Canadians, would actually want to come to Phoenix  - but life if full of the incomprehensible!)  The flight was about four-and-a-half hours, and my window seat gave me a bird's-eye-view of much of the United States - the eastern half of which was spectacularly green and beautiful, and the western half of which was Arizona brown.

I had such a nice time on my trip - seeing sons, grandchildren, my sister, nieces and nephews and their children, and a host of old friends.  I just wish travel wasn't so hard and flying wasn't such a base indignity.

Tim, Erin, and Baby Olive are talking about coming to see me and taking AmTrak instead of flying.  The train has a route from Kansas City to Flagstaff, and I could pick them up there for the drive down into the Valley of Hell.   I love traveling by train - it is everything that airline travel isn't - calm, peaceful and relaxing - and a great way to see the country.

I am still hyped from the premier of The Brass Teapot.  It was such a rush seeing my youngest son standing on the stage with the director, a raft of producers, and even some of the actors - answering questions and telling anecdotes about how the movie came about.  Every parent should have an experience like that!

And my other two children are pretty damned special also!

The Premier of The Brass Teapot

by Pa Rock
Proud Parent

The world premier of the feature film, The Brass Teapot, occurred this afternoon at the Isabel Bader Theatre in Toronto.  I had the pleasure of watching this exceptional movie in the company of the movie's screenwriter, Tim Macy, and his lovely wife, Erin.  

Seeing my son's work on the screen playing to a packed theatre will always be one of the proudest moments of my life.    Not only did I get to see a story that he created play itself out on the big screen, I also had the pleasure of listening to the audience react to the clever dialogue - words that came from the fertile imagination of Tim Macy.

I suspect, with good reason, that Tim will have a long and happy career in the movie industry. This auspicious beginning has certainly made his dad proud!

Canadians and Brits are Smarter than Us

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

When it comes to intelligence, the Canadians and Brits (and most of Europe for that matter) have evolved well beyond their American cousins.

A recent survey by Angus Reid Public Opinions looked at the subject of evolution and found that 61% of Canadians and 69% of Brits believe that human beings evolved from simpler forms of life.  Unfortunately for us, only 30% of Americans subscribe to what they see as an "unfounded theory" of evolution.

Amazingly, in fact, according to the results of the poll, over half of all Americans (51%) believe that God created people within the last 10,000 years - a bit of religious quackery commonly known as "creationism."

The Reid Poll found that men in all three countries were more likely than women to believe in evolution.    A 2009 survey by the Pew Research Center found that 97% of all scientists believe in the concept of evolution.

Bill Nye "the Science Guy" has thundered into the debate regarding evolution versus creationism.   He recently posted a video on YouTube  entitled "Creationism is Not Appropriate for Children" that quickly went viral.  Nye said, in part:

"I say to grownups, 'If you want to deny evolution and live in your world that's completely inconsistent with everything we've observed in the universe, that's fine.   But don't make your kids do it.  When you have a portion of the population that doesn't believe in evolution, it holds everyone else back, really.'"

Sarah Palin is holding us back.  Michele Bachmann is holding us back.  Reverend Joe Bob Huckabee and most of organized religion is holding us back - and so is Fox News.  We are quickly being sucked into a cesspool of hokum and superstition designed to relieve us of our money and our commonsense.

Evolution, according to Bill Nye, is "the fundamental in all of life science, in all of biology."

It won't be military upheaval or insidious socialism that knocks America from the pinnacle of power and world leadership.  It will be the triumph of stupidity - and unfortunately we are well on our way to that sad future.  While the rest of the world is walking upright into the twenty-first century, America is doggedly determined to slide backward into the Dark Ages.

Toronto's Great Expectations

by Pa Rock
International Observer

The kids slept in this morning, but the days when I could do that seem to have long-since passed into the marshes of distant memory.  I crawled out of bed not long after daylight, checked my email, showered, and then took my current book, Great Expectations, down to the lobby where I sat and read and listened to all of the pretentious movie people talking about their "projects" and dropping names with speed and nonchalance.  

Bruce Willis is in town promoting a new movie, so his name bounced around like a tennis ball at Wimbledon.  I also heard three young men discussing Emma Watson, and it soon became clear, to me at least, that while they all maintained an air of familiarity with the young star, none of the three had actually ever met her.

Projects and deals and expensive suits accessorized with tennis shoes.  The Toronto International Film Festival is weaving its magic, enveloping the city with a sense of great expectations.

We had a late lunch today with the director of The Brass Teapot, Ramaa Mosley, and her mother, Marilyn - a pair of delightful ladies who appeared to be enthralled with my beautiful granddaughter!  

After lunch Tim went to a workshop for screenwriters and did some necessary "networking," and Erin and Baby Olive and I headed to Yonge Street where mother and daughter did some shopping, and I roamed around Dundas Square pushing an empty baby buggy.   One old fellow who looked like I always imagined Merlin the Magician, asked me what happened to my baby.  I told him that I couldn't remember where I had left her.  "Oh, no!" he shouted - but didn't call the Mounties!

So why am I reading Great Expectations?  First of all, it was required reading when I was in high school (or at least an abbreviated version), and I hadn't revisited it since.  Second, 2012 is the 200th anniversary of the birth of Charles Dickens.  Recently I saw an announcement for a book club meeting at the library on Luke Air Force Base.  They were asking people who wanted to attend to read at least one book by Dickens prior to the meeting.  I thought that sounded like an interesting endeavor and a good way to meet a few literate people, so I called for more information.  Unfortunately for me, the group meets once a month during the workday.  I decided to do the assignment anyway and be prepared just in case.

Arizona is a retirement haven, so most people do their extra-curricular stuff during the "workday."  In fact, about the only people who actually work in Arizona are me, the military, and the "illegals."  Everybody else sleeps in.

But tonight I am in Toronto and Phoenix is a million miles away!

A Walk Along Yonge Street

by Pa Rock
Traveling Fool

We arrived in Toronto shortly after noon today.  The weather forecast had called for rain, but we were delighted to find sunshine and fairly warm weather.  I've have worn shorts and a tee-shirt (Phoenix sheik) all day and have been very comfortable.

Upon arriving at our hotel, the Metropolitan, and stowing our stuff, we took a walk through downtown where we had lunch at an Irish pub, and stopped by the headquarters for the Toronto International Film Festival at the Hyatt Regency Hotel.  I have already met two very impressive individuals:  Ramaa Mosley, the director of The Brass Teapot, and a young artist by the name of Christopher Banfalvi who created some amazing metal sculptures that were on display at the Hyatt Regency.

Tonight we walked downtown to Yonge Street and ate dinner at Johnny Rocket's where Olive flirted shamelessly with our young waiter.  She is a hit wherever she goes!  Tim and Erin are going out to a Film Festival event later this evening and Pa Rock will be babysitting.  That should be an interesting experience!

Toronto is a beautiful city and a very happening place.

Kansas City by Moonlight

by Pa Rock
High Flyer

Here I sit in yet another airport an hour before dawn.  I am at Kansas City International awaiting a flight to Washington, DC, and then a flight to Toronto.  Apparently there are not many people on this flight and they have just scheduled us onto a smaller plane.  I overheard the pilot saying that that means he will make less money.  Just what I needed - an unhappy pilot!

KCI used to be a very unhappy airport, but this morning everyone that I encountered was cheerful.  I don't know what brought about this change - but it is most welcome.

I talked to a wizened little man this morning who had to throw away his shaving cream because the container was more than four ounces.  I told him that I had thrown mine away in Phoenix.  We both agreed that we would rather deal with terrorists than put up will all of the TSA nonsense.

Tim and Erin - and Baby Olive- are on a different flight, one that goes through Chicago.  We are supposed to arrive in Toronto at almost exactly the same time.

Baby Olive and I had so much fun yesterday and last night.  She was very focused on me and headed straight for me every time anyone put her down.  She is a little laugher and smiler.  The last time I remember a baby being that fascinated with me, it was my daughter Molly.

More later from north of the border.

The Modern World

by Pa Rock
Old Fart

Tonight finds me with the Kansas City Macy's (Tim and Erin - not the store).  We will get up before daylight tomorrow and head out for Canada.  The Toronto Film Festival should be quite an experience!

Boone taught me how to engage with  Siri, the iPhone muse, while I was in West Plains, and today Tim has taught me how to text, and then how to text using voice only.  The iPhone and Siri both seem to like my voice and are able to follow my commands without much in the way of corrections.  Tim also gave me a few of the basics on taking pictures with my phone and then sharing them with others.  It all seems to be something that I can master, but I don't think that I like texting - it seems to get too involved and protracted.  When I hang up on someone, I want to stay hung up - and not have to keep responding to bits of textual conversation.

We had dinner this evening at Minsky's Pizza Joint, which serves a really good pizza.  Olive had little bits of baked apple that looked wonderful to me, but she kept spitting them up.  She was finally content to gum on some small pieces of pizza crust.

The movie that was playing at the Ozark Theatre in Noel back in 1969 on the weekend that the train blew up was The Night They Raided Minksy's.    The poster remained in the shattered window for weeks or even months until the repairs were made - and I never did get to see the movie.    Just a train-of-thought-thing (pun intended) connected to eating at Minsky's tonight.

I couldn't sleep last night due to all of the tension associated with dealing with renters in Noel, and probably because I drank iced tea at supper - always a mistake - so I am hopeful that tonight I will sleep like a bear!

More tomorrow from Canada.

A Hard Day's Work

by Pa Rock
Landlord

If a person owns property, that person has to be available to take care of it.  My dad told me that many times, then left me property that I could hang around and take care of - without a good job, or I could work and hope for the best with regards to the property.  I have been trying to go with option number two, but neglect (both physical as well as management) has taken its toll.   I spent all of today in my hometown trying to get things right with my rental properties, and it was a very hard day indeed.

Tonight Gail and I had dinner at the local Cracker Barrel.  Tomorrow I am meeting Tim in Springfield at the airport where I will turn in my rental car and then go with him to Kansas City.  Thursday he and Erin (and Baby Olive) and I will fly to Toronto for the film festival.

All three showings of his movie, The Brass Teapot, have sold out - for a total of 1,900 seats.   That is an amazing accomplishment for a film with a first-time director and a first-time screenwriter of a feature film!  And just think, I knew him when!

Today was awful, but things will start getting better tomorrow!

A Drive Through the Ozarks

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

Today I drove through a nice slice of the Ozarks - from West Plains, Missouri, south to Mountain Home and Harrison, Arkansas, and across the top of the state to Fayetteville - home of the Razorbacks!

The drive was beautiful, with twisting roads meandering through the lush, green Ozark hills. (Everything is lush and green when compared to Arizona!)  The route led through many small towns, each with their own distinct identities - such as one place that advertised itself as the "Trout Capital of the World."  I did manage to get temporarily lost while leaving Harrison and was halfway to Branson before I realized that I had missed a turn.

The big news from Branson, that I heard over and over on the car radio, is that Andy Williams is celebrating his 75th year in show business, and his place, the Moon River Theatre is hosting a variety of aging stars over the next few weeks - including Debbie Reynolds, Frankie Avalon, and Pat and Debby Boone.  But apparently Andy Williams himself will not be appearing.

Branson loves its old white entertainers.

And so does Phoenix.  There is some sort of Teabagger Fest occurring in the Valley of Hell this month, and Pat Boone will be appearing there also - along with windbag Joe Arpaio.

Tonight I am at my sister's apartment in Fayetteville.  Her three kids who live in the local area (Tiffany, Reed, and Justin) along with their spouses and children all came over to see me.  They are such a nice group of young people.  I got to meet the newest member of the clan - Aiden Shamus Burke - who is just three weeks old!  He is a cutie - just like his mother, Tiffany.  His two older sisters, Brittany and Brieanna, were here also.  They are very busy little girls - and very cute!  Graham Edward Smith was also here.  I was at the hospital last September when he was born.  He is a red-headed heart-breaker!

Tomorrow I am headed to Noel to try and resolve some issues with property there.  This is what is called a working vacation!

Important Update from the Toronto Film Festival

by Pa Rock
Proud Parent (and Grandparent)

Tim just called with news regarding the Toronto Film Festival.  We will be flying up there on Thursday, and his movie, The Brass Teapot, premiers Saturday in a theatre that seats six hundred.  He called to reserve our tickets today just as they went on sale - and was shocked to learn that all six hundred tickets had sold in less than ten minutes.  In fact, the first two showings (of three) have sold out.  He described not being able to get  tickets to a movie that he wrote as "a problem," but I told him that it was a really good problem.  Obviously the movie is getting some great buzz!

Unfortunately, the third showing (which is also headed toward selling out) will air after we have returned to the States.

The movie's director is trying to get tickets for Tim and Erin.  I will be more than happy to sit in the lobby and play with Olive.   She is my star!

The Dark Knight Rises

by Pa Rock
Citizen Film Critic

The Dark Knight Rises got off to a tragic start with the shooting rampage in Colorado, but the crowds eventually came back.  And while it's not particularly my cup of tea, I am glad that one insane terrorist wasn't powerful enough to derail the artistic accomplishment of hundreds of people.

I saw this movie this afternoon with my oldest son - and his son - at a discount theatre in West Plains, Missouri.  It's almost sad how quickly movies make it off of the main screens and out into the discount theaters.  (I remember when The Sound of Music played in a first-run theatre in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for over a year!)

This movie was typical of today's action-hero genre:  long on action, noise, and computer-generated catastrophes.  The lead characters were so-so, but it had a really good supporting cast that kept things interesting for those few of us who were there to enjoy the acting.   Christian Bale continues to be an acceptable Batman, but he lacks the passion that made American Psycho such a great movie.  Michael Caine, as Alfred, is sweet and charming, but his days as the sexy and charismatic Alfie are from another era.   (In fact, I was probably the only person in the entire theatre who even had a clue as to Caine's theatrical credentials.)  Caine has slipped from a leading actor to sidekick status, and that is just sad.

Burn Gorman has a minor role in the movie as a character called Stryver.  Gorman was a regular on Torchwood, one of my favorite British television series.  I felt like I had encountered an old friend when he came onto the screen.   And Joseph Gordon-Levitt who is known to many as Tommy on Third Rock from the Sun, charms as the former orphan, Blake, who has grown up to be a really good cop with a really good heart.  Gordon-Levitt is a very  accomplished actor who has been in dozens of movies and television shows, and often tackles quirky roles such as a Mormon missionary in the movie Latter Days, and a young prostitute in Mysterious Skin.

Juno Temple, who played the lead in Tim's movie, The Brass Teapot, also has a bit part in Dark Knight  - and while her character is forgettable,  she developed her well and delivers both of her lines flawlessly.  Daniel Sunjata who has been on a couple of television shows that I enjoyed - and is also an accomplished Broadway actor - has a small part as a police captain in which he brings a strong presence to the screen.

While I wouldn't drive into town to see The Dark Knight Rises a second time, I am glad that I made the first trip.  It was good seeing a few of my old friends.  I would probably give it a thumb-up for casting.  The major characters handled their parts like they were focused on earning a paycheck, but it was the second tier that stirred in the sparkle.

A Pleasant Evening in the Country

by Pa Rock
Weary Traveler

I am half-a-continent away from where I went to sleep last night - safely in West Plains, Missouri, the birthplace of Dick Van Dyke  and hometown of Porter Waggoner and Jan Howard (country singers), and Preacher Roe (baseball player).   My son, Nick, whom I am visiting, had a favorite teacher (drama) at McDonald County High School - about 200 miles from here.   That teacher was Elwin Roe, Preacher Roe's son.

West Plains is beautiful, though so economically depressed that few who live here can probably fully appreciate the beauty of the area.  The grass and trees are green, the breeze is cool, and nature abounds.  When man finally disappears, it will just be a matter of months before nature obliterates all traces of the temporary intruder.

The Ozarks are everything that Phoenix isn't.

My flights today were from Phoenix to Denver in a big jet - and then on to Springfield, Missouri, in a commuter jet.  Flying across Kansas we slowly approached an extremely tall bank of white clouds which was the tail end of Hurricane Isaac.  The plane finally entered the wall of clouds about thirty minutes before landing in Springfield, and I drove two hours through a light rain to reach West Plains.  This area was parched by the drought this summer, so all rain is appreciated - and Isaac brought a pleasant soaker that was truly beneficial.

The storm that devastated New Orleans and parts of several southern states, came north and helped to end the awful drought.  One weather system with a wide range of consequences.

Did you hear the one about the out-of-touch frat boy running for President who told the homeless hurricane victim to go home and call 211?    Gotta love the human touch!

A Short Night

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Another early morning, another airport.  I am back at the infamous Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix waiting for another plane.  This flight will be to Denver, followed immediately with a flight to Springfield, Missouri, where I will hop in a rental car for a two-hour drive to West Plains, Missouri.  By tonight I will have finally seen all of my kids and grandkids since returning from Okinawa.

My alarm went off at two a.m. this morning in order to get ready and make it to the car park and airport (across town) two hours prior to my 5:50 a.m. flight.  There still aren't too many people here, so check-in was relatively simple for a change.  A very nice lady at the check-in counter convinced me to throw away my shaving cream (which was almost empty anyway) and toothpaste in order that I might take my small suitcase onto the plane with me and save the  $25.00 bag fee.   That ill-conceived fee has resulted in everyone trying to stuff everything in the overhead storage compartments. - and the belly of the plane is undoubtedly a big, empty echo chamber!  How long will it be until the airlines begin putting seats there?

There is a bit of outrageous news in the Valley of Hell this morning - the feds have decided not to press criminal charges against Joe Arpaio.  Tyranny lives.  Hopefully the people pursuing the civil charges against our geriatric sheriff will be more committed to seeing justice done.

More later from the road.

Clint Eastwood Makes Obama's Day

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

I haven't had the cable in my military quarters hooked up yet - and may not, but even if it was hooked up I wouldn't have been watching the crabby old white men's convention in Tampa.  I mean, what would be the point?  It's all been so scripted, so fake. so entirely predictable - or at least it was until last night.  Last night was reportedly one of the most memorable nights in the history of political conventions - and I missed it!

But the Internet replays have been profuse and hysterical!

All week long the GOP (God's Own Party) has been hyping a mystery guest for Thursday night, the same night that their country club nominee was to deliver his acceptance speech.  The mystery guest would be Champagne Mitt's warm-up act.  Then on Thursday, they let the name slip - just to be sure people would tune in.   The mystery, warm-up speaker was Clint Eastwood!  Yup, Dirty Harry was coming to Tampa to make Mitt's day!

And of all the dumb things that the Romney campaign has done over the past year, bringing Clint on stage was undoubtedly the dumbest.  The former star of spaghetti westerns and San Francisco police action-dramas is a mature eighty-two-years-old - but he looks and sounds a hundred-and-ten.  Rumor has it that he showed up with prepared remarks but cast them aside before walking onto the stage.   He is Clint Effing Eastwood, after all, a true Hollywood star.   Why the hell would he need notes?

So Clint winged it, and Tampa, and indeed much of the nation, spent the next twenty minutes either cringing or laughing hysterically - depending on political affiliation.  Unfortunately for the GOP, they were the ones cringing!

Clint had a prop set up on stage - an empty chair for the comfort of an imaginary Barack Obama.  He proceeded to interrupt his remarks to the audience with asides to the imaginary Obama.  It was a sad diatribe from a once-formidable actor and director - much of which made little or no sense.  The only two things America knew for sure after the center-stage train wreck  was that Clint has definitely lost it - and the Romney campaign is being run by a bunch of goofy amateurs.

(One guy on Twitter this morning gave Clint some credit by saying that he was actually very representative of Republican delegates - an angry old white man talking to an imaginary Obama!)

Sadly for the tax cheat from Massachusetts, there was much more talk about Clint's speech today than there was about his own acceptance monologue.

Old Clint may not have made Mitt's day, but he sure as hell made Obama's!

Harry Callahan, you rock!

Killer Joe Comes to the Valley of Hell

by Pa Rock
Citizen Film Critic

Last night I drove across Phoenix to the high-rent area of the Valley of Hell, more commonly known as Scottsdale.  The purpose of that thirty-five mile sojourn was to watch the film version of Tracy Letts' riveting play, Killer Joe.  I had seen a staged version of Killer Joe a couple of years ago at Phoenix's Nearly Naked Theatre, and was pleased to discover that the film version by director William Friedkin  did not take many liberties with Lett's powerful script.

The plot is simple, bloody simple.  Young Chris (Emile Hirsch), a not too bright small town dope dealer, has his stash stolen by his mother.  Unfortunately, Chris still owes a local gangster for the drugs, and if he can't come up with the cash quickly, he has been assured that he will suffer a very real and painful death.

But it's hard to be too critical of Chris because he and his virginal younger sister, Dottie (Juno Temple), are from a broken home.  Dottie, in fact, lives with her dad, Ansel (Thomas Haden Church) and his girlfriend, Sharla (Gina Gershon), in their rundown trailer.

Chris decides that the best way to recoup his money and save his worthless hide is to have his mother killed for her life insurance - which reportedly has Dottie as the beneficiary.  He has heard about a lawman who moonlights as a hit man, and determines to hire him to take out mom.  The other members of this highly dysfunctional Texas family are very quickly up to their red necks in the murder conspiracy.

Nobody, it seems, has much love for the dope-stealing mother.

The plan that Chris hatches is to pay the hit man, Killer Joe Cooper (Matthew McConaughey), from the proceeds of mom's life insurance.  Unfortunately, the plan is nearly derailed when Killer Joe demands his cash up front.  But then Joe meets Dottie and decides that she would be an acceptable "retainer" to insure that he gets his money - and, of course, he gets Dottie in the meantime.

And then it starts to get complicated.

Killer Joe is bloody and brutal with a dark undercurrent of macabre humor.  McConaughey took the title role in an effort to increase his acting credibility, and he was remarkably successful in that endeavor.  His Killer Joe is far more intense than any other character that he has ever played, and is, indeed, one of the more sociopathic characters of recent movie memory.  McConaughey's Joe Cooper is cold, impersonal, violent, and very deadly.  The only person with whom he displays any humanity is the simple and voluptuous Dottie.    The  movie is McConaughety's, from his arrival at the Smith family trailer to the blood-soaked finale.

Aside from learning a unique use for chicken drumsticks, there is little or nothing of educational value in Killer Joe.  But that doesn't mean it's not a good movie, because it is.  The movie takes us to the human zoo, late on a dark night, just as the animals are beginning to feed on each other.  It is disturbing, even repulsive, but it gives us one more insight into the complexities of life.  The Smiths aren't us, but they aren't total strangers either.

Killer Joe is rated NC-17 - for good reason.  Leave the kids at home.

The Burning Monk

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Malcolm Wilde Browne, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist whose most famous photograph, that of a monk who had set himself ablaze in a Saigon street, literally showed the world the horror that was to soon become the Vietnam War.  President Kennedy said that “No news picture in history has generated so much emotion as that one.”  The burning monk photo reportedly led Kennedy to begin a reevaluation of his Vietnam policy.

In June of 1963, several foreign journalists in South Vietnam were told where and when they could witness a “shocking political protest” against the government of South Vietnam which was supported by the U.S. government.  Of the several invited, only Browne showed up and was there to witness as a Buddhist monk, Thich Quang Duc, calmly parked his car, got out and sat in the middle of the street while several other monks doused him with gasoline.  The devout monk then struck a match and sat in prayer, burning, while hundreds watched and Browne snapped a series of photographs.

The incident signaled the beginning of a rebellion that led to the overthrow and deaths of the U.S. backed President and national security chief of South Vietnam.

Those years in which our government was quietly engaged in a shadow war in Vietnam - trying to back the right generals and set up a government favorable to the United States - are chronicled, in part, in Graham Greene's novel, The Quiet American.

While I was in Vietnam last winter, one of the places that I was able to visit was a monastery/orphanage in Hue, the ancient capital of Vietnam.  One of the things on display at that orphanage was the auto that Thich Quang Duc drove to the scene of his death.   That old car serves as my very tenuous connection to Malcolm Wilde Browne.  It is clearly pictured in the background of the photo of the burning monk.

Mr. Browne died this week after a decade-long battle with Parkinson's.   He was fearless (having survived three plane crashes while covering the war in Vietnam) and truly a pioneer in his field.

(And, as an aside, his middle name comes from his grandfather's first cousin, British novelist and playwright Oscar Wilde. )