Josh o' Trades

Friday, April 21, 2006

Feature Friday: Peter's Friends

Sometimes there's just something magical about the people you meet in college. It doesn't happen every time, or to everybody. Sometimes you're just lucky. I know I was.

From the first day, I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. The people I met that day are still active part of my life. Without Sparky, or Sti-Fu, or Lady Steph, or E-Rock, or Painview, or Scosa...I don't know. But I DO know that I wouldn't be where I am today without them.

The same can be said of the group of friends I made about 6 years ago, the WOMP group. That traveling band of thespians, bent on family-friendly entertainment. Under the watchful eye of Becky and Carrie and Melinda, they have grown to be a major player in the theater world. Or Frisco, anyway. Being on stage with the Elfin Princess and my Apocalypse Queen as well as the Goodman/Goodwin's, Jimmy Vines, mea Culpa, Dan-O, Brownie, The Voice, Red, Burst Forth, the Midgets in Bloom, the singing Ellis', the Jinx's, and too many more to name, has been a blessing. I can't wait for another opportunity to work with them all again.

This is also true of my latest crew of Browncoats, doing all they can to keep us in the air.

I guess what I'm saying is that friendship, that unbreakable, indescribable bond, is the rarest of possessions. That, once obtained, is next to impossible to give up.

As well it should be...

Title: Peter's Friends
Year: 1992
Director: Kenneth Branagh
Staring: Stephen Fry, Kenneth Branagh, Hugh Laurie, Alphonsia Emmanuel, Emma Thompson, Imelda Staunton, Phyllida Law, Rita Rudner

It's New Years Eve in a quiet little English village, and Peter (Fry) has arranged a reunion of his college mates, most of whom haven't seen each other in several years. Peter's father has recently passed away, and left the family mansion to his only son. Also, Peter has some rather important news that he needs to share with his friends. But he is quite unprepared to see just how much they have changed since their carefree college and acting troupe days.

Andrew (Branagh) is a successful screenwriter living in America, writing for his wife, Carol (Rudner)'s TV sit-com. But not all is well in Hollywood. Carol is obsessed with her career, to the extent of placing her work before her marriage. And Andrew, feeling less the man he was when he was writing plays in his youth, has turned to alcohol for solace.

Roger (Laurie) and Mary (Staunton), prosperous jingle-writers, have just lost a child, one of a set of twins. Mary is having a very hard time leaving the surviving child alone, and Roger is hurting over his ability to move on, while his wife can't.

Lovelorn Maggie (Thompson), the writing agent, is looking for a husband to start a family. But she's lacking in self-confidence, and has a low opinion of herself. She feels that this reunion will allow her to build up the courage to approach a relationship with Peter.

Winding out the group is free-spirit Sarah (Emmanuel), who brings along her newest boyfriend, who just happens to be married.

'Peter's Friends' is both heartfelt and enduring. Rudner and her husband/writing partner, Martin Bergmann, have penned a great screenplay that accurately captures the bonds of long-term friendship and the trials that come with adulthood.

Kenneth "The Best Shakespearian Actor Of His Era, Or Any Other" Branagh pulls double duty, on both sides of the camera, and makes it look easy. While his portrayal of Andrew is reserved, almost subtle, it's his work as director that shines in this film.

And then-wife Emma Thompson is wonderful as Maggie. Her craft over the years has grown so much, and her roles as both actress and producer have helped raise the bar in Hollywood. She is a marvel to behold, and carries the best performance of the movie.

Best known to American audiences as Fox's Dr. House, Hugh Laurie has had quite a lot of fame across the pond. For several years, in fact. Staples of the Black-Adder series, both he and Stephen Fry are remarkable actors, and very, very funny. Laurie plays his Roger Charleston with a depth and understated grief. He shows his conviction of not giving up, of just living, that every parent that has suffered a loss should see and try to emulate.

As for the grieving mother, Imelda Staunton disappears into her role of Mary Charleston, much as she did in Vera Drake. Staunton plays Mary as the shell-shocked, hysterical figure we all assume we would be if such an event should ever happen to us. But she also plays the victim, outcast from her friends, unable to cope. Unable to move on. You see her loss in every gesture, every word, spoken or not.

For his part, Stephen Fry is also quite invisible in his role of Peter Morton. Gone is the quick wit and over-the-top flamboyance seen in the Black-Adder. Instead Fry goes the subtle route. And it fits the character well. Peter is a multilayered man, and though he gathers his friends together under false intentions, his motives are pure. And his relationship with Phyllida Law, Vera, the housekeeper, is one of the best in the movie.

Alphonsia Emmanuel has a very tough role to play. As the carefree, devil-may-care Sarah Johnson, she must be both flirtatious and guarded at the same time. Her love 'em and leave 'em attitude towards men over the years has finally caught up with her and now she must examine that aspect of her character. And Emmanuel has to to this while keeping the audience on her side. It's not an easy thing to do, and she falters a couple of times. We don't get to see her full character arc, but it is hinted at, and I think Sarah will eventually come around.

But it's Rudner who gets the short straw of the film. Primarily a comedian, she just doesn't have the acting chops to carry her weight with the rest of the cast. Branagh does his best to keep her afloat, but somewhere along the way, Rudner's Carol needs to come into her own. And it never happens. Not a horrible thing, but one that breaks the rhythm of the overall movie.

Still, a great little film that gets most everything right. And one that should make you revel in the friendships you have. Large and small.

-Jos

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive." ~Anäis Nin

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Beat Me, Whip Me, Make Me Write Bad Checks...

The past couple of days have been brutal. Had a client who was not happy with any of my solutions, didn't provide me with what I needed at the time I needed it, and still was upset when, after almost a week of jumping thru hoops, I was an hour behind in getting her proofs. Never mind the fact that we've waived all the art charges, most of the shipping, and had to sign a pact with Lucifer to get the project completed by her show on Saturday. Sigh. Just can't win for trying, sometimes.

And then our newest employee handed in her resignation yesterday. I knew she hadn't received the training she'd been promised, and she got a lot of grief over a lot of stuff that wasn't her fault, but still, I liked her. We had a good banter, and I'm going to hate seeing her go.

Also, got to drive all over God's creation in search of a gas station yesterday while riding on fumes. You'd be amazed just how close to a station that matches my gas card I'm not.

But it hasn't been all bad. Seems Mr. Darcy has reaped the benefits of being one of my Browncoats. Though, I think he should give the lessons a try. We could all use a good laugh at his expense. He and my Apocalypse Queen made it back from OK in good spirits.

Oh, and it turns out that I'm a positive match for Kidney Boy. But, I'm not the only one, and I only scored a 1 out of 6 out of a possible 6 out of 6. The doc said that since the kidney would be coming out of a (reasonably) healthy body, most of the time those scores are not a determining factor. Like I said, I'm not the only match. The ball's in Nathan's court now. You'll know more when I do.

Thanks for stopping by.

-Jos

"The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live." ~Flora Whittemore

Monday, April 17, 2006

Dunking Booths, Brick Festivals, and RPG's. How'd You Spend YOUR Easter?

So the Whimsy got dunked Friday evening. The Elfin Princess and I ventured over to Six Flags over Jesus for the event. Yeah, Prestonwood Baptist, where God goes to church. Turns out that Whims was only one of 91 to go under that night. You read that right. Ninety. One. They were baptizing 3 at a time, and it still took almost half an hour. Still, mission accomplished. All's well.

Went to my first polo match on Saturday. Elfin, her kid sister, Suzie-Q, and the Lord of War and I trekked our way down south to Red Oak to the Dallas Polo Club. But not before taking a little detour past the Lancaster Airport.

Note to City of Red Oak: Put street signs on your streets!

It was a hard to choose between Polo or the Brick Festival, but in the end, horsies won out. But, it was a close decision. And I'm not entirely sure it was the right one.

Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was our complete lack of understanding of the rules. Or the fact that the scorekeepers seemed to making it up as they went along. But I think I understand why I've never been to a Polo match before. And will probably never go to another one. There's just something about traveling over an hour to a backwoods town that makes Mayberry look like Metropolis, to see a sport that's been obsolete for over a century, that just didn't appeal to me. I still think they could have stretched the game out a little longer, maybe thrown in some time-outs or, you know, a half-time, or something. It was over far too quickly to compensate for the drive out there.

Though we did get to relax for a bit, and that was nice.

After a shower and a Chick-Fil-A drive thru, TEP and LoW and I settled down for a night of gaming at Border's. We still had Varnell's Shadows of Camelot, so more than a couple of hours were lost to it's enchanting ways. Got to play the traitor this time, and had fun with it. And while the game moves more quickly with only 3 players, it's much more enjoyable with a full crew.

Hope your Easter was nice. Not too hot. Not too cool. We're getting a couple of 100 degree days here, only to catch our death of hypothermia when we're back down to 70 on Wednesday and the rest of the week.

Stupid Texas...

-Jos

"A horse is dangerous at both ends and uncomfortable in the middle." ~Ian Fleming

Friday, April 14, 2006

Feature Friday: A Man Called Peter

A few years ago, during my readings, I came across a book about a Scottish minister that ended up in Washington D.C. as pastor of the Church of the Presidents during the 1940's. His name was Peter Marshall. And his wife, Catherine, had written the book. It was: A Man Called Peter.

It was a short book (I finished it in a couple of sittings), but it was well written. I found myself interested in this man of faith, and how God used him to influence those around him. His was a story I enjoyed, and longed to emulate.

About a year later, Heather and I started the Beacon, a bi-monthly newsletter for our singles class. Though I ended up being more of a co-editor, originally, the plan was for me to write book reviews. When she asked what book I'd like to start with, Marshall's story came to mind.

The column was a hit, and led to a fun (although short) stint as a reviewer, one that lit the spark that eventually led me to start this site.

Those of you who read that 1st issue (all 6 of you), know that I promised to review the movie version "someday." Well, your patience has paid off.

Title: A Man Called Peter
Year: 1955
Director: Henry Koster
Staring: Richard Todd, Jean Peters, Marjorie Rambeau, Jill Esmond, Les Tremayne, Robert Burton, Gladys Hurlbut, Richard Garrick, Gloria Gordon, Billy Chapin

The outskirts of Scotland during the turn of the last century, with it's poverty and desolation, was probably not the best environment for young Peter Marshall to grow up in. With a yearning to go to sea, to explore the world, having to stay in school was the worst punishment imaginable. But, a degree was promised to his mother, and Peter would not disappoint her. Though it would be difficult to come up with the money for university.

During his final semester, making his way from one of his many jobs, Peter (Todd) is on his way to class when he finds himself walking through a heavy fog. He hears a voice calling to him from outside his field of vision. It tells him to halt. Unable to find the source of the voice, Peter trips over a tree root. Just then, a small patch of the fog clears and Peter can see that he was heading toward the face of a cliff.

Convinced that it was the voice of God that saved him, Peter dedicates the rest of his life to his Maker.

We next find Peter a few years later, as pastor of Atlanta's Westminster Presbyterian Church. It is here that he aggress to run a rally in hopes of appealing to Atlanta's wayward youth. He calls on support from nearby Agnes Scott College, and is introduced to the person who will change his life forever, a student named Catherine Wood (Peters).

Impressed by Peter's humility and wit and natural charisma, Catherine soon finds herself falling in love with him. But it would take 3 more years for Peter to admit his true feelings. On November 4, 1936, Catherine and Peter were married.

Catherine soon finds herself in Washington D.C., with Peter serving as pastor of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, the Church of the Presidents. And though Peter readily identified with the needs of the common working man, all is not smooth sailing. Miss Laura Fowler (Rambeau), is a wealthy patron of the church, and self-elected thorn in Peter's side. Her family has been members of the church since Lincoln's day, and she'll not see a Scottish immigrant bring a touch of ordinary into her scared place of worship.

However, not all is doom and gloom. Despite his humble background, Marshall continues to fill the pews to capacity each and every Sunday. And, he's made friends with several of the parishioners, including Senator Willis K. Harvey (Tremayne).

It is a dark time for America, as the war in Europe is hitting too close to home. Feeling led by God, Peter changes his sermon to the young cadets at Annapolis on a cold December Sunday to reflect on death and the afterlife. In a few short hours, that day will be forever remembered as a day of infamy.

Throughout the war, life goes on. Catherine gives birth to a son, Peter John (Chapin), and Peter suffers a heart attack while at the pulpit. Peter tries to take it easy, but is stopped cold when Catherine is diagnosed with tuberculosis. The only treatment at the time was total rest. Doctors assured her she would be well in three or four months, but two years later her situation remained unchanged.

Forced to accept that she has to turn everything over to God, she summits. Just as Peter comes to the same realization. Both come closer to each other, and to God.

At the invitation of Harvey, Peter accepts the role of Senate Chaplain in 1947 and again in 1949.

He would suffer a fatal heart attack in January of 1949, but his legacy and devotion to God would live on through his family and through his words.

An editorial in the Washington Evening Star captured the true spirit of Peter Marshall's brief but impassioned ministry:

"Living and working in Washington only eleven years, the Reverend Dr. Peter Marshall nevertheless has left his mark upon the whole city. He was a man of contagious spirit, eager and alert, quick to see opportunities of service and to meet their challenge....In classic language, he was a builder of the kingdom of God on this earth."



Richard Todd did such a wonderful job at bringing Marshall to life, that you forget you're watching a movie. Todd spent hours reading and listening to Marshall's sermons before taking on the role, and it shows. The film could have easily tipped into pious, but never does, mainly due to Todd's performance and Koster's typically smooth direction.

Jean Peters brings a wonderful presence to the piece as Catherine. Her narrative sets up the movie, as it also does in the book, and she pulls it off perfectly. And while it was rare to see chemistry between actors during the 50's, Peters and Todd have a lasting bond that comes through.


It is a great book, and a wonderful family film, one which I watch every year on Easter. I hope you will do the same this year.

-Jos

"...if God can do so much for a man called Peter, he can do as much for you." ~Catherine Marshall

Thursday, April 13, 2006

He'll Be There

When you're feeling down,
and there's trouble all around you,

When you feel like nothing's
gonna turn out right,

When you just can't find any silver lining,
Put your hands together, and hold on tight.

He'll be there,
when you need some comfort,

He'll be there,
when you need a friend.

He'll be there,
when the dark clouds are closing all around you.

But, you've got to believe,
when you get down on your knees,

He'll be there to make the sun shine again.

He'll be there to make the sun shine again.



-Jos

"If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me." ~Author Unknown

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

(TAP) (TAP) This Thing On?

Sorry for the silence yesterday. A large windstorm came up last night around 6 that looked very much like rain, although Becky swore that we wouldn't have rain this week at all. I've just come to accept the fact she's gonna lie to me everyday now.

Anyway, the transformer that brings the lovely, almighty Internet here to Jo'T HQ is a mite bit sensitive. To the extent that if one were to sneeze too loudly, e-mail and internet goes down.

Not that I had much to say, but that's not the point. It's the principal of the thing.

Really not that much to report. Work is getting grueling. Projects are backing up and client expectations are getting out of hand. And my boss isn't helping matters much. It's getting harder and harder to do what I do these days. I've lost the drive and want to do this job, and it's showing. I'm making rookie mistakes. Missing small details that, even a year ago, would have sent me over the edge. Now? I just don't care.

I think I've reached burn-out mode. It's been a while, almost 7 years, but I guess that makes sense. It may be time to start gearing up for a career change. But, just what that might be, I do not know. I don't think I'm ready to do the writing gig full time, but I guess there's never a "right time" to do anything.

As a wise man once said, "Do. Or do not. There is no try."

So. Yeah.

-Jos

"Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow." ~Mark Twain

Monday, April 10, 2006

Monday Already?

So this weekend was pretty eventful. Friday saw the final installment of my little band's conversion to the Independents. Over the past month or so, I've enjoyed watching my peeps become more and more involved in the lives of a bunch of frontier traders trying to live their lives out on the fringes of the black. (A metaphor not completely wasted on me and my buds.) This all came to a conclusion last night with a viewing of The Master's silver screen debut. A most grand time was had. Darcy spoke for the rest of us, I believe, when he wailed "More!" after the credits started to roll. I'm sorry to see our time in the 'verse come to an end, but, if I know us (and MYSELF especially), I don't think we're quite done yet. After all, Halloween is only a short 6 months away...

Saturday was busy as well. The YP's were in charge of manning the bounce houses at the Easter Egg-travaganza for the little one's out at Breckinridge Park. And can I say that the wind woke up and decided to come out and play this weekend? Man, my poor little Jo'Tmobile nearly left the ground more than a couple of times, and NOT by way of the hover conversion I had installed a couple of months ago. Anyway, we had fun with the kid-o's on Sat morning. I haven't run a bounce house in a few years now. Not since my days at All 4 Fun. Amazing how much I forgot I enjoyed it. Though, I AM glad I didn't have to break them down and roll them back up. The munchkins had a blast, and, once the sun came out, so did the big kids.

Saturday night brought with it what I'm sure is going to be my gang's next big obsession: Shadows Over Camelot. It's a RPG that Varnell unleashed upon us during game night Saturday before last. To say that it is HIGHLY addictive is like saying that Freddie Prinze Jr. will never win an Oscar. We played 4 games Sat night, 2 with a traitor in our mists, and 2 without. I gotta admit, I do prefer the game with that cloak of deception over it. And while it's almost impossible to tell who in our group is not being completely honest (we all do it so, so well), the Lord of War and the Elfin Princess did admirably in the dark role. The game is a lot of fun, and I foresee many more hours lost to it's bewitching ways.

As for my crew, well, we're still fighting our way thru the Swamp of Sadness. But, like Atreyu, we just won't let the desolation get to us. We will prevail. My thanks to my Apocalypse Queen for her words Friday night. We WILL get through this. One step at a time. I will accept nothing less.

I got stabbed for Nathan this weekend as well. I made my way downtown on Friday and let the vampires at the Dallas Transplant Institute have their way with my arm. I swear that the whole process took less than 5 minutes, which somehow didn't make up for the the nearly 2 hours it took to drive downtown, get lost, and make my way back to work. But, all for a good cause, right?

Right.

Well, speaking of work, I've got more than my share to do now that I wasn't able to make it in over the weekend. (Some people would call that a GOOD thing, and I happen to agree with them.)

Thanks for reading. Get back to work...

-Jos

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit." ~Albert Schweitzer

Friday, April 07, 2006

Feature Friday: The Natural

Ah, Spring is here. The weather is warming up, pale children who haven't seen the sun in months are venturing, cautiously, out into the sun, and the crack of the bat can be heard far and wide.

When I was a kid, there was a kind of magic about it. Baseball meant that school would be out in just a couple short months. That my friends and I would find ourselves spending hours running around the bases. That I would get to do one of my favorite things in the world: play catch with my Dad.

It is a ritual. A rite of passage, I suppose. Father's and Son's. Dad taught me to throw. How to catch. How to be patient and clear my mind. How, if I thought too hard about it, I'd psyche myself out. He cheered me on during my Little League games, and taught me how to handle defeat as well as victory.

The Summer I was 10, a movie came out that Dad and I could relate to. Yeah, we had bonded over the Indiana Jones and Star Wars movies, but this one was different. This one was as timeless as Father's and Son's themselves. It was about Baseball the way it was supposed to be played. Back before professional sports was more than just a group of individuals out to better only themselves. Back when being loyal to a team meant something. Back before ballplayers got paid millions of dollars.

Back when guys played for love of the game.

Title: The Natural
Year: 1984
Director: Barry Levinson
Staring: Robert Redford, Glenn Close, Kim Basinger, Wilford Brimley, Barbara Hershey, Robert Duvall, Robert Prosky, Richard Farnsworth, Joe Don Baker, John Finnegan, Michael Madsen

Welcome to small town America, circa 1915. We meet young Roy Hobbs, gifted athlete, trained under the watchful eye of his father. He perfects his natural talent, and with the support of the girl next door, Iris, Roy plans out the rest of his life.

Those plans are lost, however, when his father dies of a heart attack. During a thunderstorm, the tree his father died under is split apart by lightning. Roy cuts down the tree and carves a bat from it's trunk. He dubs the bat "Wonderboy," and burns a lightning bolt into the wood.

Flash forward a few years to 1923. 20 year old Roy (Redford) has just been called up to try out for the Chicago Cubs. He and his manager, Sam Simpson, are leaving in the morning. Roy spends his light night with Iris (Close), and promises to send for her once he's made the team.

The next day, Roy crosses paths with two very different people, people destined to change the course of his life. The Babe Ruth-inspired "Whammer" (Baker), and the mysterious Harriet Bird (Hershey). Along for the ride is sports writer Max Mercy (Duvall), acting as the Whammer's personal PR director. When their train stops to refuel near a county fair, old man Simpson can't help but take the opportunity to take Mercy and the Whammer down a couple of pegs. He challenges the Whammer to three pitches thrown by Roy. Powered by limitless ego and trying to win the affection of Harriet, the Whammer agrees. Besides, it'd help to give the town folk a chance to see their hero in action.

A large crowd gathers round to see Roy go head to head with the Whammer. Three pitches. Three strikes. The crowd goes nuts. And Harriet sees Roy in a new light.

When they reach Chicago, Roy receives an invitation to join Harriet at her hotel. But all is not well. Harriet is deranged and has been seeking out the "best" of every sport. She kills them all with a silver bullet. She attempts to do the same to Roy. After she shoots him, she jumps to her death.

16 years later.

It's now 1939, and things aren't looking too good for the down-on-their-luck New York Knights. Manager Pop Fisher (Brimley) is at the end of his contract, and is looking to buy out the club from a corrupt judge (Prosky). Problem is, the Knights are in the bottom of the cellar, with no hopes of making enough this season to help him. He and his partner, Red (Farnsworth), are quietly adjusting to the end of their careers when fate walks through the door.

35 year old Roy Hobbs has been sent by the Knights' talent scout for a try-out. Pop, understandably, is furious. "You don't start playing ball at your age, you retire." Red is willing to take a chance on the "kid." But, Pop is unsure about this "middle-aged rookie."

Unable to play, or even practice, for the first few games, Roy is agitated. After an outburst with Pop, he is reluctantly allowed to join batting practice. The results are outstanding. With Wonderboy in his hand, Roy can do no wrong. Pop wonders why someone with Roy's talent, he hasn't played anywhere before.

The following day, unhappy with outfielder Bartholomew 'Bump' Bailey (Madsen), Pop gives Roy a chance to prove himself. "Knock the cover off the ball," he jests to Roy as he makes his way to the plate. Roy does just that. He becomes an overnight success. Suddenly, the Knights are big news again, and Roy is leading the headlines.

The Judge is none too happy about the recent turn of events, and starts pulling the strings he's secretly put in place. Strings involving the Knights pitcher, an uncredited Tom Sizemore, and Bump Bailey. The Judge's cohorts also involve the gambler, Gus Sands, the late Darren McGavin, and his girl, Memo Paris (Basinger). With the Knights returning to true form, under Roy's lightning bolt banner, all bets are off when it comes to lengths the Judge will resort to.

The Natural is a throw back to the magic of baseball in it's purest form. Of the feeling of standing on fresh grass under a "sky so blue you have to squint to look at it." Of your heart skipping a beat as the bat meets ball. And that indescribable feeling of sliding home with dust in the air and dirt in your cleats. One of the best feelings in the world.

Robert Redford is one of the greatest actors and directors of our time. More than the pretty boy and leading man of the late 60's and most of the 70's, he has a charisma and integrity that just seems to be lacking in most of today's actors. He has a quality about him that defies description. And gives such a real, dare I say "natural," performance, that you forget that he's playing a part. And while there are a lot to choose from, this is my favorite Redford role.

Wilford Brimley and Richard Farnsworth breathe new life into the paint-by-number roles of ball manager's Pop and Red. They have a wonderful chemistry on screen, and you can tell they had fun on the set. Their banter is loose and free and never forced. Two great character actors with fun characters to play.

The women of the Natural have as much diversity as the actresses playing them. Barbara Hershey is cold and intense. Her Harriet Bird is calculating and deadly. A very one-note character, yet Hersey allows us to see behind the veil a couple of times, and that just makes her even more creepy.

Basinger plays the fem fatale quite well, despite this being one of her first roles. Memo Paris wants to be bad, but can't quite pull it off. She has a weakness, Roy, and she's scared that she may jeopardize all that she's worked for if it she can't get past it. It makes her a dangerous character, one whose actions we're never sure will be.

And Glenn Close has the hardest part to play. Iris the "angel" of the story. Always there to lead Roy back on the right track. It's her strength and support that sends him out to Chicago in the first place. Her innocence that brings him back from his slump. And her love that helps him stand up again, when he thinks he's down for good.

The Natural is based on the novel by Bernard Malamud. And while the movie differs from the book, both are quite good.

This past Monday saw the opening of Baseball season, here in Texas. And, while I don't pay much attention to pro ball that much anymore, I still play softball with my church group. Now, we may not be the best, but we play with heart. And that's what matters.

It's also why I'll always play with #9 on my jersey.

-Jos

"You gotta be a man to play baseball for a living, but you gotta have a lot of little boy in you, too." ~Roy Campanella

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Back From The Black

It seems as though a couple of my crew have gone and got themselves stuck deep within the Pit of Despair. Now, it falls on me - their ever-faithful Captain - to reach down and pluck them back out. As I'm wont to do, seeing as how a good Captain is only as diligent as his crew. (And with this bunch, I need all the help I can get.)

So, I suppose I should share a story with you good folk, to help liven everyone up. Because, if you're laughing AT me...well, you've got pretty much the whole world on your side. And that can't be bad.

Come now. Gather 'round. This might be a tad longish, so I'd get comfortable if I were you...

***

On several occasions over the years, I've often been prompted by my friends to recall the events surrounding my 21st birthday. Now, I have a number of reasons for not doing so. Chief among them, the fact that, at 21, I was not yet the man I am today. I was still young and raw and fresh and hopeful for the future. More easily persuaded by carnal desires than by moral ones. I was still new, still unmade.

At 21, the world is golden and shiny. Still holden to the romance of the words of Keats and Byron and Kerouac. Even a little Bob Dylan and Tom Waits, if the truth be known.

I could list hundreds of examples of young men doing foolhardy things to appease the trappings of youth. And most would be justified. I could tell you of many a person whose good intentions got the better of them. I could even refuse to tell on the grounds of temporary insanity.

However, the main reason I choose not to share is the fact that it’s so damn embarrassing.

To that end, the only way I’d even consider recanting my tale is my changing the names of those involved. Well, the innocent ones at least. The names of the guilty will remain as they are, if only to ensure humiliations galore.

We begin our story on the eve of 30th December, 1994, the day before my 21st. Oh yeah, I'm a New Year's Eve Baby. You should remember that. It will be important later.

Anyway, I'm on the phone with, oh, let's call her "Melissa." Mainly, because that's her name.

Melissa and I met in art school, and even though we'd both graduated and moved on, we still kept in touch. She was living with her folks, in a little town in up-state Illinois. I was working and living here in Dallas - Another point you'd do well to remember.

Also, I suppose in the spirit of good conscience, I should point out that I may have had a "thing" for said Melissa. Yeah, so there's that...

So we're on the phone and she starts asking about my birthday plans. She goes on to tell me that she misses her friends form Big D, and wouldn't mind coming out and seeing everyone. And seeing as how it IS my birthday...

You can already see where this heading, can't you? Well, you're right. Happy? What? You want a cookie or something?

Now, as it is the end of the year, and I've just been paid, all is well with the plan to arrange a flight for one the following morning. (We'll just pretend that I make enough for this to actually happen. Just go with it. It's a story. Suspend that disbelief a little, would ya?) ((Truth is, I did NOT have the funds to make so outrageous a gesture, but I did it anyway, because, well, she was really cute...))

The morning of the 31st came in gray and overcast. Dallas doesn't get the winters of legend of, say, Colorado or Minnesota, but it can get down-right cold for a city made up of glass and concrete. There was a chill in the air that ate right thru my Blue-Light Special Member's Only wind-breaker as I made my way to DFW at that ungodly hour of 5 and 30. (Yeah, the red-eye was the cheapest flight I could get. I may have been smitten, but I was no fool.)

This was pre-9 Eleven, back when you could actually wait at the gate of an arriving plane. Remember that? I was able to take note of how tall each of the people disembarking from the terminal were. More than a few of them looked familiar, as well. It took a few minutes to realize that I was looking at the entire roster of the then unknown Dallas Mavericks. What amazed me even more was that Melissa was the only female (besides the flight crew) on board.

Now, you'd think getting to spend an entire flight with tall, young basketball players, a flight where YOU were the only member of the fairer sex, that a person would be quite content with that day's state of affairs.

Yeah, you'd be wrong.

Without so much as a "hello" (not to mention a "thank you"), Melissa goes into a rant about having to get up early and having to hire a limo to drive her to the airport because the taxi's would not venture out in the ice and snow, and I really SHOULD have offered to pay for that, and she had to fly all the way here with a basketball team for crying out loud, and all of her luggage better be here or so help me, and where did you park? And so on and so forth...

And this was only the beginning. Had I known how things would have turned out, I would have put her on the next flight back to Illinois right then and there. However, I was young, stupid, and destined to live out the rest of that weekend.

***

To Be Continued...


-Jos

"Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children." ~George Bernard Shaw