How does The Dark Knight Rises fit in the trilogy?

Tragedy, and the endless question of absolute freedom

There's a world of emotions that go through your mind when violence occurs.  One can't help but insert themselves in that moment and imagine what they would've done.  They question and judge the actions of parents that would've allowed their children go to a midnight showing of a summer blockbuster.  Judgement on the actions of a man in moment of crisis.  The criticism of  the violent lyrics and images that maraud our imagination.  We are drawn to these conversations in the aftermath of a tragedy.  Honesty is not an American virtue, well it hasn't been for a long time so let's not stumble through that argument.  Let's be honest with each other now and say that we are not just drawn to the conversation but to the action.  Art and Reality confronted each other early Thursday morning in Aurora, Colorado.  The very root of it is the human condition.  Albeit, one sick individual who I will not pretend to know what his true agenda, or inspiration perpetrated these acts of violence. This wasn't a mankind action, we haven't gotten their yet, but we get damn close in declarations of war and the knowing and inevitable murder of families from across the globe. Then the celebration of these acts consciously and indirectly. Now the line up of psychologists, and commentator types will be giving you their opinion. The twittersphere, blogosphere, Facebook Copy & Paste-sphere will all weigh in with some borrowed phrase on what should happen to this man, what "I" would've done, and what should happen to the gun laws or the movies.   I don't write these thoughts down as a recommendation for change in anyway.  I'm not so bold, or wise for that matter.  What I do say is that we consider what is on the table here.  We have the freedom to feel and share how we feel openly here in America.  We have the right to watch the art of violence unfold in high definition and 3D if you so choose... We have the right to arm ourselves, and currently we have the right to arm ourselves like this guy--like we are ready for war.  All of that is freedom, and to limit that would be an abasement to our freedom. I know people will say guns don't kill people, nor does art.  Art influences the mind and plays to our emotions both in the beauty and and the horror.  I love art.  I love the movies.  I loved this movie.  Anyone that watched Nolan's epic trilogy realizes that it is not a glorification of violence but an ode to the human spirit.  A glorification, if you will, of an ordinary citizen giving everything for the common good.  The scary thing is that this personification of evil--and I will never say his name nor watch the monetization of his name in the 24 hour news cycles and printed words to come-- had access to weapons that he had the right to.  This lost soul was an ordinary citizen that acted and had the tools and resources to take not just one life but the lives of many.  The holes that are left in these families are permanent.  Nothing that happens to this soulless coward will ever change the void and the ripple effect.  How we as a society move forward is the only way we progress as a species.  We can either arm ourselves even more, or have a real conversation on what are the limits or should we have them? In the end I know that you can't kill someone with a movie.  I know that Christopher Nolan is carrying some of the weight here.  That is unfair.  I again, don't write this to defend Nolan or anyone for that matter.  I write this as a question about society.  A society that fails to act but quickly boasts what "they would've done".  I love America, and I love freedom.  I don't think it's out-of-bounds to say that when we were given the right to bear arms our forefathers didn't envision the world we have today.  Now you will question my patriotism for using my right to free-speech.

Surreal-ity Television

Sometime I question if talent really is necessary to become successful? Then again, maybe success is too often conflated with fame? The sheer volumes of reality shows about the lives of famous people who are no more remarkable then the majority of people living in your neighborhood pervade network television. The ingenuity of what was reality television has been replaced by the inanity of their distorted version of reality. This is a scary scenario where the target audience is at their most vulnerable and impressionable stages of their lives. It’s not the commercials that are dangerous to the future generations. It’s the obsessive’s, sociopaths, addicts, and extremist that are available 24/7 on television, internet, and your smart-devices of choice. These aforementioned narcissists have endless advertising partnerships and product deals-- to sell their perfumes, and clothing lines. If it was just MTV/VH1 it would be one thing, but the educational channels such as History and TLC have joined the dark side. This transformation isn’t much different than the migration of network news to becoming entertainment more concerned with ratings then fact-checking the powers-that-be. I can’t personally complain because I am not innocent. The consumers are the problem. The television is the enabler. As our phones get smarter we get dumber and we are okay with that in the spirit of simple is better. Albert Einstein once said, “Make things as simple as possible, but not simpler,” a great quote now relegated to the Quote-Garden online. Along with the samplings of Kim Kardashian, Larry “The Cable Guy”, and Sarah Palin. We really need to pay attention to what our kids are watching, hell—what we’re watching… I had to check myself at the door and wonder if I am just getting older and too conservative in my age. No, there really are shows about do-nothing heiresses and people that buy shit out of a vacated storage unit. Just because you are good at basketball doesn’t mean I should care what you do in your spare time with your spoils. Oh you were famous in the 80’s, I don’t give a damn how your life has changed since you blew your money on hookers and blow. Now if it was a show about the hookers and blow…maybe. Now we post every little action, every thought, and every bodily function on the internet for the masses. We push our religiosity and provincialism onto each other through inaccurate internet communiqué and tired witticisms. We have surrendered our creativity and individuality for cyber individuality and creativity. We have been beguiled by our own vanity, and it’s gone too far. We want to live these fantastic lives with the blonde on one arm and the gun, basketball, or microphone in the other. Now this blog has been an exercise in my vanity, and I don’t pretend to deny the hypocrisy. I do however want to point out theirs! Let’s hold ourselves to a higher standard people. Oooooh! Dancing with the Stars is on.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day

When I was a young boy, I loved the warm solace of my mother’s lap. In the times of loneliness brought on by the heartbreak of youth, here was where I felt the most comforted. My mom has always been there for me. Not just in the way that parents are suppose to be there --roof over your head, food on your plate and such. She’s been that consistent influence on me to be the best version of myself. Even when I failed she accepted me for who I was, and what I did or didn’t accomplish. For all sons are imperfect in reality…just don’t tell their mothers for they will never believe you. Well my mother never suggested it… That kind of unconditional love is the truest thing in this world.

My childhood was good. For most of it we lived in the small town of Martinsburg, West Virginia. It was me, my sister, and my mom living in a small house on a busy road, on an old block where houses and businesses intermingled. We didn’t have a lot but I never realized it. Mom pursued one of eventually two masters-degrees while we were living there. I know this was something she valued, yet had to consider the means and time it would take while we were young. My mom gave us every chance to do what we wanted to do whether it was basketball, or learning karate. With one catch—we had to finish what we started. No matter how much we hated it, we couldn’t quit. As a child I was not a fan of this rule, but as a man I believe it taught me some very important lessons. First, I need to consider what I want before I make a decision. I need to truly understand the nature of the commitment. Then it taught me that quitting is a temporary gratification. Finishing what I started is a true accomplishment, and that the integrity is in resolve.

Parents have to sacrifice. Change comes in many forms when you have children. Your spending, sleep, and social habits all must be altered to accommodate the presence of children. I know that I was thankful as a child, but your perception is narrow as a kid. I don’t think this really expands until you have kids of your own. My mom sacrificed so much for us so we could be happy, and well rounded individuals. One of my purest hopes is that she feels that we have become the adults she had imagined us to be.

One of my clearest memories as a child was Christmas morning when I was probably eight, my sister six. We woke up like every kid in the world, with the wily anticipation of what was under the tree. We went running into mom’s bedroom to see if she was awake. She was still in bed, and very sick. The discomfort of her sickness prevented her from getting much sleep and when she answered our question, “Can we go ahead and open our presents?” She said, “Yes”. At least that’s how I remember it. In the confusion of Christmas morning elation we didn’t understand why she was so mad at us. It’s funny how I know how this must have felt to her then as starkly as if I was there watching from the back of the room like Scrooge on his journey with the Spirit of Christmas Past. Children don’t have the capacity to understand the love of parents. They love because they just do. Kids can’t really put it into words because it’s indescribable. It’s just a feeling.

My most lonely moment was about ten years later, while I was in college. I had received a full-athletic scholarship, and was finally able to help support myself and my education. I know my mom was as proud of me as any mother could be at this point of my life. In the end, I wasn’t able to meet the commitment that I had made to the school, my coaches, myself. I was deeply shamed, and felt alone in my decision. When my mom came down to pick me up and take me back home, I didn’t even want to talk about it. I didn’t know how she would accept my decision. I know that she didn’t want me to quit. What happened wasn’t unexpected, more reassuring than anything. Even in her disappointment she made me feel loved.

Now I am trying to do what I couldn’t as a kid. Mom thank you for all the sacrifices you made for us. Thanks for never letting me be a coward, and teaching me that with confidence I can move forward without concern of not having a soft place to land. You taught me the virtues of what it means to be a good person. That trust was really the only commodity we were born with that money can’t buy back. Most importantly you always taught me to think on my own, and not to just accept what I was told as fact without using my discernment.

In my childhood I was emboldened by the love of my mother as being handsome, intelligent, and strong. I never believed all of these things wholeheartedly, and to this day I’m not so sure they are all true. What matters is that even in my overwrought credulity I was loved, and I am who I am today because of it. I hope you had a Happy Mother’s Day, and I wish I could’ve been there for it. Thanks Mom.

Sanctimony makes me sick

One thing that has really crawled under my skin is self-righteousness.  Especially staged, self-righteousness that tends to rear its reprehensible head at the point of the most incredible irony.  

The pop-singer Whitney Houston died at age 47 over the weekend.  What's more troubling is that a 9 year-old little girl died over the weekend.  I never met her, yet I've heard so much incredible things about her and her truly inspiring message of hope.  I also read of middle-eastern violence over the weekend.  Acts of such sorrow, and desperation that just the very thought have left me a different person then the one that read the first sentence.

The days go by, and life goes on. Sometimes merciless and apathetic sneaking into the night. Other times it is miraculous and moving beyond words like the birth of a child.  

What leaves me really disgusted is when people disparage the life of another because of some belief or notion that may or may not be true.  In Whitney's case I've seen a lot of comparisons to her and the troops.  As if her death is somehow invalid because of another's death.

One thing about the media, if you haven't realized is that the product is nothing more than a reflection of its perverse consumer.  It's nothing more than high-brow Jersey Shore.  Cable news is only as good as the ad-buy that companies will be willing to pay.  The content only as good as the ratings.  The quality of the news is nothing more than the meaningless attention span of us.  Yeah, it's as jaded and dispassionate as that.  There's no noble cause or what is right, so get off the high-horse and turn it off if you are so inclined.

A celebrities death is no more or less important than the death of someone close to you.  As troubling as the thought of an innocent that had no choice in the matter dying, it's the way it has always been.  JFK once said, "As we express our gratitude, we must not forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." I find this to be the ideal way to celebrate the loss of someone, especially our great military.  My family, some of yours have had fathers and grandfathers fight for my right to decide whether that was my path.  I am thankful for that. I don't pretend to claim that my mere words are reflective of the gratitude commensurate of such sacrifice.  However, I will not downplay the death of someone no matter how great or flawed they might be. In my daily actions is where I can truly celebrate the lives of those that are here no more.  
I will suggest that we don't place fools on a pedestal just because they are entertaining. The Anna Nicole Smiths of the world.  The rapper that beats his girlfriend's bloody visage.  The no-talent heir of a Hotel empire gets her own show and fragrance.  In some cases, where a talent so profound as Whitney Houston or on a lower scale as Amy Winehouse can truly affect a person.  Their lyrics can help maybe a friend deal with the loss of a close one, or just overcome the day.  These people, meant something no matter how noble the cause.  How they live their life is not something we can control.  It's tragic and unnecessary. It is their life however, and we celebrate that freedom.  We create the future celebrities that will dominate the news, and we are creating them now.  

“The writer must write what he has to say, not speak it.” Ernest Hemingway

New Beginnings… Usually come at the expense of something else, an ending. Despite the pain and debilitating stress it's hard to leave behind something that has defined you for so many years for better or for worse. I can count all of the triumphs but know that I have had them. I can remember the close relationships, and cherish the transformative ones. That is what I hope to walk away with, and remember years from now. The ups and downs now are disproportionately down compared to the ones of yesterday. The sacrifice and distraction away from the important things will be easy to say goodbye to. The desire to get ahead and work on something other than what I really need to spend my time on--won't burden me any longer. The sordid politics will not turn my stomach another endless minute. I begin a journey new to me, and my family. A new town, a new career, a renewed lease on life. Life is temporary isn't it? Change and circumstance in which we are powerless to alter so much of our time here, yet blind to what we truly can do when we apply ourselves. We deserve our stake in our perpetually moving existence and fail to seize it. We have a responsibility to not only ourselves, and our family, we have an obligation to do what's right by them. You don't get to go down in flames by choice when you have kids that call your name every morning just for a moment of your time, and a calming embrace. You can't have your addictions, and not own up to what they are and what it will require of you to overcome them in the name of what is good and true. I am as average as anyone else, self-awareness usually doesn't come without tears and suffering. I walk away from my enlightenment not scarred but jaded. Not damaged, but cynical. Not despondent, but focused. It's all vacuous and inauthentic, yet we build our lives around it and fail to be honest that we are slaves to our own vanity. Victims to our own comforting and mindless routine… How do we walk away, head up, pride intact, self-aware… I am, and I do it in earnest. A new life with clear eyes. No regrets, no questions, no sentimentality, just lost days only now to be forgotten. So it begins… My journey to be written about here, not for sentimentality, instead for my understanding. A record of where I was, and where I want to go as an individual. Goodnight, and until tomorrow's first light.

 

"The truth that doesn't bend, breaks."

"Bend to far, and you're already broken."

"Theres the street, the game, and what happened here today."

 

                The Wire: My favorite television show…ever

 

So often television tries to shed the robe of cliché and transcend the entire genre. Endless, but not very deep are the annuls of television history. Despite that matter, I have struggled to "assign" what I consider to be the best of television. Not that the world is waiting with bated breath… I think I found a definite contender for number one. The Wire ended 2 years ago on HBO. "It's not television, It's HBO" the tagline for the network which has brought many other great shows such as The Sopranos and Deadwood has put out cinema quality shows now for years. The three aforementioned shows are all favorites of mine, and Wire being the best.

All three of the shows are character driven, and both Deadwood and The Sopranos have dominating lead characters. What makes The Wire great is the depth of characters both in numbers and in the quality. Series creators David Simon and Ed Burns took their real life experiences in the trenches and created a series so visceral that it demands your full attention. Leaving you with questions about how can this be true, and I bet that is true and a perverse curiosity of what it would be like to live "down in the hole". Simon was a reporter for the Baltimore Sun. Burns was a Baltimore homicide and drug cop for twenty years, then taught in the inner-city schools prior to working with Simon on The Wire. A lifetime of experiences can be quite the muse. These two men have put together one whopping story, and then took that story and invested in its characters like no other television show has in my opinion.

Although many of the characters are described by the creators as being "inspired by" they affirm that it is a work of fiction. The genius of the show is that it takes a story line, a dubious cast of characters, and makes you care for them. Even the drug king-pins and murderers have a connection with the story in which it is hard to assign villain or hero. Shades of grey pervade the show at every angle. Each show is so intricate, so nuanced, and every detail matters that it requires a commitment of the viewer to carry on unlike many other shows. It eschews red herring, and cliché in lieu of reality. Reality so unbelievable sometimes that it strains the credulity to believe that this … really happens. Each season has a payoff for the audience. Then they hit the reset button, shake everything up, and change the plot line. Each season exists within itself, but not ignorant to the others. In the end, all five seasons can be put together like a puzzle. The complexity of the show is what really stays with you after watching the entire story. It's not an obvious complexity, but one that you appreciate after time.

 

Many have called The Wire Shakespearian, and not only a great television achievement a "literary achievement". This acclaim is deserved, and seconded here. I can relate to those that have seen clips, or the cover of the box-set and think they are getting Boys n' the Hood. Season one, the closest to 'Hood speaks to the same plight of growing up in this environment yet offers so much more. Those movies that romanticize the "Gangsta" lifestyle, offer just that and very little substance. Where 'Hood waxed poetic on brotherhood, Wire is poetically true to the streets and that same brotherhood. A relationship that comes with a heavy price. Proof that the term "thick as thieves" can mean more than those on the corner slanging, but can better be used to describe the politicians and the powers-that-be who we trust to protect and govern us. The show pulls no punches in regards to police and government corruption, union and organized crime collusion, the schools futile endeavor to educate the inner-city youth, and the media's affair with headlines and ad revenue.

The show doesn't get behind just one hero but the many that go to work every day and have to oppose these very forces. Some turn a blind eye to it and accept the bleak circumstances that are portrayed so realistically here. Then there's the teacher that reaches into his own pockets. The newspaper editor that says something doesn't seem right here. The cop that says when people are dying, policy doesn't matter. The stories of the unsung rebels that are truly heroic.

I highly recommend The Wire. I spotted this on my desktop when I sat down to write a little about a new show called The Walking Dead. I can say even today, that I yearn for the time to sit down and reexamine The Wire. The last episode goes down as one of the greatest ending chapters to any store told. Not gaudy and overcooked like so much television. Pitch perfect and reverent to the characters and the city that made the show what it is and always will be--a snapshot of a time and place that will always exist if we choose to ignore it. An exposé on society and a forgotten world right under our noses, and all around us. A thank-you to those that have the duty to enforce the laws that insulate us from the atrocities that happen every day, right under our nose. Especially the true heroes that stick their necks out in order to make sure justice is served even though the forces against them seem unstoppable.

Ill end on a quote, just like I started this piece with and just like each episode of The Wire started.

"Thin line between Heaven and here." Bubbles

 

 

 

Revelations in Parenting

While shopping the other day I observed a kid, probably five years old or so, running through the aisles and knocking merchandise from the shelves. I thought to myself, What the hell… The parent yelled at the kid, and told him to “Wait until we get home!” Leaving me to wonder, what that entailed.
See this is where it starts. It’s not society as a whole. It’s not the schools. It’s not the music or the television. If you subscribe to any of that, you are wrong. In many cases, it can’t help-- I’ll give you that, but it’s not the source. It’s parenting. It’s the deterioration of what parenthood has become in modern times. Parenthood is not just the result of sex, it’s much more than that. It’s a complete change in the direction of your life; it’s no longer about you it’s about them. It’s about the acceptance in a paradigm shift.
I’ve only been a parent now for a little over 3 years, and in many cases that doesn’t qualify someone as a professional. It does, however, represent experience. Whether or not you agree with that being enough to speak on the matter, I’ll leave that up to you. One thing for sure, I’m far from being the perfect parent. That’s another diatribe for another day. So often we get caught up in the now and lose sight of the later. I had to learn, like so many, that I am now an enabler for good or bad. For better, and for worse. . .
It’s so often kids are slapped, or spanked for speaking out of line or misbehaving or otherwise being a kid. We are teaching, and they are learning. Lesson: violence is the answer. When you’re frustrated it’s okay to hit. If you don’t have an answer, use your physicality.
Some parents drag their children out to see late night movies, or unacceptably violent films. The other day I went to see a “Grindhouse” inspired film Machete, where in the first five minutes of the film there are multiple decapitations, and an abundance of gore. The theater I was in had many children watching, observing, and absorbing this story about a Mexican policeman turned vigilante. Lesson learned, there isn’t a difference between what a child should see and an adult. No distinction between the cold and vicious world, and the innocence of a child. (Again, the movie is not why I mentioned this—it’s the parental choice being made to allow their children to watch it.)
I know, how dare me judge other parents. But when you make a decision some well thought out, and others perfunctory in nature-- you are authoring a narrative that your children live in. In every story the experiences both momentary and profound have resonance with the characters. Every decision, or action—lessons learned. It’s been said, parenting is an experiment in folly. I’m a strongly against spanking my children, yet the other night I caught myself put a little whooping on my son’s posterior for doing something repeatedly after being admonished. I had to collect myself, not in temperament but in recognition of the fact that I did what I did. Even though, the spanking was mild in nature, it was unequivocally physical. Afterward, I was able to assert my control of the situation, and maintain my stance even though I lost my senses for a split second. I learned from that very moment.
This is not a declaration of what is right, or what is wrong. It is however a recognition, or better yet a revelation that I have had about myself. One that I hope more parents would have before it is too late. The human mind is highly complex, and the child’s psyche can be delicate and frail. Do not take your actions lightly. When your kid is bad, and tearing up the store or just being downright ornery. Don’t accept that, and promise them something if they improve their behavior. Improve, is that what’s okay these days? Think about it, so often we wonder why criminals keep falling back into the same behaviors. Why in relationships we seem so willing to accept abuse? Why so many kids drop out of school? Or engage in reckless behavior. . .
It’s not supernatural. It’s the patterns so intricate and woven into their very being. Where behavior is only relevant in the future and discipline is only delved out at our convenience. The back of the hand is easier in lieu of a conversation. Kids are told to “shut-up” and are better pacified with candy or video-games so we don’t inconvenience our lives.
It’s been said, that in parenting you should just “do your best”. True. I agree wholeheartedly and personally subscribe to that. I only contend that some parent’s version of “best” is not acceptable. It’s a gesture to make them feel better about being selfish and shortsighted. Parenting is selfless, and quite often inconvenient. I believe despite all of that, it’s tremendously rewarding. Some children make it out just fine, others don’t. That’s a question better phrased as nature versus nurture. The fact that the argument has never been put to rest, that I know of, is a testament to the very complexity of parenting. I can’t imagine that the lazy, feckless, shiftless youth of today are the result of a reverse Darwinism. That we are destined to become, like characterized in the little seen film by Mike Judge Idiocracy, a society of imbeciles.
Let’s just hope that isn’t true. Then, if x doesn’t equal y, then what does x equal? How do we overcome this rot? Where do we go from here? Bad parenting isn’t illegal as long as it’s not neglect.
As a gardener fertilizes his land, nourishes his crop, we control the ultimate demise of a generation. Or the prosperity mankind. The task is arduous. We must stay the course, and try to get better every day. I hope to give my daughter the fairytale, and my son the dream. These are the hopes of all fathers, and I pray that I can provide for them the opportunity for greatness.

Certitude

    I feel like I've stumbled upon some great truth. The world is really backwards. But that's not it. If we operate under a philosophy of live and let live, or give and keep giving we will crumble as a people. The American government is out of control, and everyday there is some variation of a policy that weakens our union and deteriorates our freedoms. We are under attack, by people that speak nicely and hide the truth in nice words.

    The government is a parasite on businesses and profits. It's not like British Petroleum wouldn't have cleaned up the spill. Yet, the president stands there pointing his finger and looking pensive. What experience does he have in cleaning up oil spills? If BP didn't clean it up, we would just stop buying their product. Case closed. . . Problem solved. . .

    The people that don't have healthcare made choices that got them to the point where they are desperate. They took jobs that didn't guarantee it, and they didn't manage their lives accordingly. The government is getting their corrupt and sticky fingers all over my choices. What's next, once they've killed off all private healthcare providers and we grow dependent—are they going to tell me whether I can have that operation? Can my kid have that procedure? What party did you vote for, oh. . . well in that case we can't appropriate those funds.

    Now government is telling the states that you can't have laws that protect your own sovereignty protected by the constitution. That you have to allow our constituents, gays and minorities, to become citizens, pray on your families, and live lawless as our neighbors. Oh yeah, and you have to be taxed to provide them healthcare and food on the table.

    Are you F$@#% kidding me? I'm losing my mind. The world is in a tailspin. I have to believe that it will get better, but I'm at my own personal brink. That complete and utter nonsense at the beginning is the drivel I hear all day. Taxes, they are going to take all of my hard earned money. Deficits are out of control and they can't have my money--take it from the programs. Wait, there are no jobs and the government is sitting around waiting while we suffer. Hold on for a damn minute, we don't want your stinking government jobs they steal from the honest entrepreneurs and CEOs give them lower tax rates, and they will provide us great high paying jobs. No more taxes! Hey wait a minute, why doesn't government get involved with that? We need to invest in infrastructure. Crime is up, why don't those people just find God and turn their lives around? He raped somebody, why don't they lock him up forever? Why don't they just kill him, he is a drain on society? I don't want my kid going to that school. I don't want my kid going to public school.

    Individuals in certain media outlets, and political positions of power want us to believe that it's Yes or No. That the world is just that simple, you are or you aren't. They operate under clichés and stereotypes (both sides).

    Logic leads one to believe if you take a straight edged supply-side economics approach that it is a self-sustaining system, then the final frontier is an environment where the consumer wins out right? What history has shown, and if you allow the ideas to play out in your mind—profit is God. How do we cut cost, and make more profit? Steal market-share, kill the competition. Buy the competition. Eliminate the competition. Fix the price. Set the price. Supply and demand. . . Create demand, eliminate options, and sit on your pile of money. Make love to your money.

    Why not allow the weak, the bottom feeders to self-select? Stop paying for their drugs, and healthcare. Survival of the fittest right? No that's Darwinian, and that would be like Hitler and against God. We as a human race fight for survival. I agree that there should be limitations, but that is a moderate approach. We aren't allowed to think in moderation. We are or we aren't.

    That is the crux of the issue. The thought police aren't the issue, it's the though purveyors that are guilty. There isn't a fair and even ground anymore. Just the right and left. The patriotic and the seditious. The saved and the satanic. We have simplified the most complex and evolved species the earth has ever seen to single cell organisms. What we are playing is a dangerous game of semantics. The extremist are on the brink, the brink of victory.

"The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is at all comprehensible."

Albert Einstein     

I left my heart on Edisto Island-Ryan Family Vacation 2010

    Every year my mother's family, the Ryan's (my namesake), gets together for a week of laughs, abundant food, and memories. This year was no better than the many that preceded it, yet special in so many ways. The location was Edisto Island a small resort about 60 miles from Charleston, SC. All of us, from our various locales descended on Edisto this year with weary eyes from our travels, yet anxious optimism about the days to come.

    I was personally excited to spend a week with my kids, and wife who I see in passing throughout the week and sometimes a glimpse on many a sleepless night at home. Despite the love we have for each other, we lose sight of it in the haze of our "routines", those monotonous patterns that fill our lives. This chance to get away brings on the stress of actually spending time with those that we "love" both our respective "immediate" and extended family. The long road-trip becomes a great opportunity for that conversation that your wife's been meaning to have. The calm balance that has been established amongst siblings over the past few months or days in some cases, is thrust to the brink of tenability. The emotions that sustain our relationships are sometimes given the stage. The chance to be with people that are a part of our lives, even if not in the day to day, is a nice diversion for us despite the possibility of spill over.

    The vacation, or family reunion if I may, is a celebration of family. We have certain that we have come to expect, and look forward to. We usually spend a lot of time on the water. Time not spent on the water is comprised of many different activities whether it's local sightseeing or partaking in some putt-putt golf. Each day is typically lazy for the most part, and the nights are much livelier. We gather to talk about the day's activities, and marvel over how fast it all goes by.

    As the tradition now stands, each family prepares a dinner on a chosen night. Some of the families seize the opportunity as a chance to best the other families offering of food. Others just want to be acceptable to the Ryan family's advanced palette. I'm of the latter. . . And in regards to palette, I'll never meet the expectation for spicy! So my uncle always brings his buffet of hot-sauces. Each night is special, and something each of us looks forward to. I consider the food to be as important as if a family decided not to come. That's how good we Ryan's cook. This year the highs were the lasagna, banana foster, fruit trifle, the roast beef, and the spaghetti is always a favorite. After dinner we usually sit around, engorged, drinking, and talking the night away.

    This year we went to historic Charleston for our sightseeing excursion. It was a hot and humid day. We ducked into many shops and restaurants just to cool down. Once again, to step out into the Charleston air that felt like warm bath water.

    Charleston itself is rich in history, and architectural diversity. A stroll down Broad or Market Street is a three dimensional lesson on early American civilization, and design. The town has its commercial and retail districts that liven up the streets day and night transporting us into an almost metropolitan, uptown feel. The style of the citizens was distinct, yet surprising to us since we were miserable in our shorts and flip-flops. The restaurant district is full of great southern delicacy such as fried chick, greens, cornbread, and macaroni and cheese. Not the boxed kind the kids swear to. The kind that melts, as you eat it, and explodes with a variety of cheese flavors. The kind so good "It'll make you slap your mama", a good friend of mine once said, and is well applied here. We ate at a restaurant called Huger's, pronounced like the band Fugees. From outside the building it doesn't look like much, but once you enter you are transported into a cool, dry place that has warmth in both food and character. The walls are painted with pictures of jazz musicians and historical photographs. The wait staff, and bartender were very welcoming and really appreciated the business. Oh yeah, and the food . . . it was perfect. I wish they could come and prepare a dinner for us, I would kindly let them pick any night. Hell, they can have my family's night.

    The time in between the eating is pretty lazy, as any vacation should be. We hang by the pool, marinating in the chlorine. The majority of the Ryan family is pale white and the perfect canvas for the sun to paint upon. Many of us come home with different variations of a farmer's tan, or spots on our backs from where we didn't re-apply. It's an unofficial hobby of the Florida natives of the family to point out our ruddy coloring. In some instances, my uncles like to point it out with a playful slap. If I didn't come home each year with a burn in some amorphous shape on my belly, or red shoulder pads I wouldn't feel complete.

    Each year our bellies get bigger, and our memories grow richer. Sometimes those memories are of the awkward kind when the family's feud, or quarrel. The beauty of my family is that we accept each other. There are rivalries, and sometimes we bust each other's chops but there is a palpable love. We accept each other-- at least I've always felt that way. What has been really amusing is to see the maturity of the younger generation, as I am sure it was just as entertaining for my aunts and uncles to see me grow up. To me there is a maturation of perspective also, to see the world as an adult now looking down at the college kids really starting to see the value of family for the first time. Not that they didn't before, but to really be aware of the relationships that are there for them even though we are separated by miles and days each year. It's fun to see how much taller my cousins are, and how much more they look like their parents. It's really moving to see them interact with my children who don't really know what this is all about, and how it all started. They don't even know my Granddad who I loved so much, yet didn't really understand his love when he passed. I was too young, and void of real perspective. I miss his song he sang to me each year, "Ryan is a Friend of mine. He ____ _____all the time…" (Fill in the blank with whatever verb and action I am doing). Although, not obvious in expression it was his way of saying how happy he was to see me. I am saddened to know that my son and daughter will never have this moment. One that is precious to me, and vivid in my mind's eye. Here's to hope that they will have something special to them in their lifetime that reminds them of their family.

    We have been bestowed this annual gift from my grandparents. My Granddad Okey Ryan and my Grandmother Jo Ann Ryan, they've encouraged the attendance of this event by all the families since its origination. Not all of us have been able to come every year, but to miss it leaves a void in our lives. My Granddad has long been gone from the earthly world. Although I am certain, he is there with us. I can just picture him sitting down, back in his celestial chair, watching the baseball game on mute as he listens to all of us laugh.

    It is my desire, that long after many of us pass, our children will continue this reunion as a way of celebrating our family. Taking time to remember the trips tubing down the river, the rivalry on the miniature golf courses, the tummy aches, the lost keys, forgotten bathing suits, hot sauces, flatulence, and Granddad's song. I miss all of you already. Until next year.

How about Inception?

Christopher Nolan has outdone himself, once again. He has created another modern science-fiction masterpiece with Inception. He has made me all but forget about M. Night Shyamalan who I really admired for many years. Nolan, has become the man to turn to for authentic comic translations. In the interstice between the Batmans he wrote and directed the magical The Prestige. Inception is the best of all his films in regards to story and originality.
He, and his brother Johnathan Nolan have created some of the most intriguing stories to have graced the silver-screen in decades. Christopher, who penned Inception on his own, has proven to be a veritable cornucopia of creativity. His films are profound, cerebral, and visually euphoric. His embrace of new technology, yet discipline of not over-relying on it is remarkable. It has garnered him the admiration of a fan-base loyal to his old-Hollywood style, and genuine story telling. His stories are rich with character, and his plots have a depth that is unrivaled by his contemporaries. His last four films Batman Begins, The Prestige, The Dark Knight, and now Inception have all been critically raved. Each impressing, and instilling confidence in the industry’s ability to deliver both thoughtful, and not or, visually stimulating movies.
In Inception he has drawn comparisons to the first Matrix, in its strong ties to philosophy and the ability of the mind to both blind and amaze us. Yet I aver that Inception is a better story, and a monumental achievement in both tale and aesthetic. The use of relationships, even in small instances and fleeting moments ground his epic tales in reality. The use of hue in his cinematography and accompanying music create moments like we see in our imagination, not like a plain photograph. They are warm with emotion. He made us care for Bruce Wayne, and understand the Joker in Dark Knight. In Inception, he does the same for the mysterious protagonist Cobb played by Leonardo DiCaprio with his pursuit to reunite his family. In all of his films, he has reoccurring actors return to play different roles much like the characters in the film create dream worlds. In the film there are the oft used term projections, the inhabitants of our dreams. These actors serve as his projections, in the very same way.
As far as the action sequences Nolan presents them in wide shots, and with IMAX film which really captures the moment better than real life. I personally love that Nolan probably gets sick on his stomach when he hears the phrase, “in 3D”. His use of IMAX technology is unprecedented in major motion pictures, and he does it to communicate an eminence not ostentation such as 3D. His belief in the reverence of images versus some contrived sensationalism is to be admired by all.
The movie is long, and a two-hour plus investment so beware if you are not willing to be involved in an experience versus just watching a movie. In that case go watch The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Inception is not for the intellectually lazy. It demands your attention, but rewards you ten times over. It leaves you thinking . . . dare I say dreaming. Nolan is truly the cleverest auteur in the business, and I bow down in genuflection.