For our fathers...the men we love.

Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later... that the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love, adopted a role called Being a Father so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important: a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities of life. ~Tom Wolfe

I recently returned to LA from NJ. I went back to the East coast to see Papa, my maternal grandfather. Having grown up without knowing my biological father, Papa was that man for me. He, in his 50's, had become a raging alcoholic. So much in fact that it forced my mother to leave the house, get married and pregnant, as a teenager. I never knew that until I was much older.

Papa always spoke wisdom to me. He was so gentle and compassionate. He held my hand. He taught me about nature and bugs and finding things. He took me to the store and bought me candy and little gliders made of balsa wood at Barney's. He handed down his pocket watch to me, and the watch of his father. He spoke to me of his times in the war, and his times in the garden, and with his family. My family. He never once raised a hand against me or anyone else. Sure he got angry from time to time, but it would manifest itself in him calling me everyone else's name in the family: Frank, Robert, Carol, Linda, whatever your name is!... His frustration always diffused to a chuckle and a smile. I received a lot of nurturing from Nana and Papa, of which I am immeasurably molded by and grateful of.

My last trip to Jersey was 2 1/2 years ago, New Years Eve. I received a phone call that Papa was in the hospital with pneumonia. I was on the next flight out. I stayed there for over 2 months, at his bedside every nite, in the hospital, then in the rehab clinic, and then at home. The pneumonia was bad, but it was the DT's from alcohol withdrawal that nearly killed him. It was an odd feeling having my entire family (my mum is 1 of 7), leaning on me and drawing strength from me. There was a moment, when I had to steal away in secret, and I broke down. I then collected myself and went back to his bedside. He made a full recovery, including the alcohol.

Believing that I was about to leave for Asia for 3 years, I flew back a couple of weeks ago to see him. It was an intensely emotional visit. There is nothing quite like the sensation that you may never see someone that you love and care about so utterly deeply, alive again. Needless to say, I was a complete wreck. In addition to this, Papa has Alzheimer's, and it is serious and exacerbating by the day. Talking to him is like talking to a child, and his attention span is about 2 seconds long. I cannot describe my feeling of anguish, watching this happen to a man I have always known and seen as heroic and commanding.

I spent every day with him. I took him to the VFW and we played pool. It was something he loved doing more than all else. I couldn't help staring at him, bathing myself in every moment I had with him. I was enamored with what I saw before me, the glorious man that my boyhood remembered. I am eternally grateful, and I find comfort in the thought that I am the man I am because of him.

While I was there, I got to see my cousin Charlie, Papa's nephew. It's been 20 years. Charlie served in Vietnam and has lived with serious shell shock ever since. It sent him into destructive drug and alcohol abuse, and separated him from himself. Over the last couple of years he has been involved with an organization that builds schools in Vietnam. It is a means of healing and giving back to the land and people. Charlie befriended a couple of guys, Chuck and Gary, who were also in country, and they quickly bonded. Chuck and Gary recently lost their best friend, Buddha. Buddha's wishes were to have some of his ashes spread on the Vietnam Memorial Wall in D.C.

Charlie flew into Oregon from Vietnam last month to meet Chuck and Gary. Charlie bought Buddha's Harley, and the trio rode cross country in the Run for the Wall. It happens every year. The Run starts in Ontario, Ca, and hundreds of veteran bikers ride to The Wall where they have an honor ceremony. On his way home to New Hampshire, Charlie and the boys stopped off in Jersey... Serendipity at it's finest. He has healed by leaps and bounds. It was an immense blessing to see him and share with all of them.

I called Papa today to wish him a Happy Father's Day, and found out that Dave, my Aunt Mary Catherine's husband, woke up at 1am to pee, passed out and put his head through the shower door. He received a concussion, a broken shoulder, and severe lacerations to his head. It's amazing that the glass completely missed his neck. While at the hospital, he underwent routine scans for cerebral damage. Again, serendipity stepped in when the Docs discovered that he has an aneurysm in his brain. It could have and might burst at any moment, either killing him or making him permanently comatose. He's now awaiting surgery to remove it. My prayers are with them and my 3 cousins.

So today is a serious day to remember. Remember those who are fathers or father figures to us. Be humble and gracious to the magnificent gifts they have endowed upon us and that will live in us to be passed to our children and protégé. And for goodness sake, reach out to those who are still living in our lives and tell them so! Don't make excuses, don't let time escape you any longer than it has. Please!



Elevating from the gluteus
Howdy. Well, although I failed to venture out last nite, I did manage to wash off the few layers of crustaceans and walk over to the theatre today. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am very anti-Hollywood, as nothing truly good has come out of it since about the 60's. On occasion, however, I do go for a good mind numbing experience and today was one of those days.

So I went to see Fantastic 4. The reviews on NPR weren't great, and of course I expected as much. All in all, it's not a bad film. The main reason to see a mainstream flick is the FX. These were pretty cool. I was a big fan of the Silver Surfer as a kid and so it was kinda neat to see him realized on the screen. Laurence Fishburne was a good choice for the voice of Sliv, but a better job could have been done with more believable inflection. The acting wasn't great, but not awful this time around, although Reed Richards seemed a bit too cool and unaffected when the poo went down. Julian McMahon returns as Dr. Doom, but again, he's still a meek and feeble choice for the ominous and vile character we all new in the comic. Aside from Johnny's mostly flat lines, the writing was ok. There were a handful of funny bits that sparked a hearty laugh. I would say it is worth seeing on the big screen, but not at full price. See it at a matinee or 2nd run theatre.

So now I'm back home. Let's see if I can keep the juices flowing and work on some important things...ttfn

You can't fall off a mountain...

Said 'Ray Smith' to Japhy Ryder... I, however, am not so sure. I say this as I sit here writing, once again in the valley looking up to the peaks above. Not too long ago I was in a hole, several feet below the valley floor, my only vision...of darkness. Then, as quickly as the spiral downward had begun, I found myself scaling the cliff sides in leaps and bounds.

In February I landed a serendipitous gig as an assistant casting director for an indie film production company. It was a blessing from the universe. It allowed me to re-realize my passion for the industry, my entire reason for moving to California 8 years ago. After the gig, the CEO interviewed with me and I had a conference with the chairman and COO. Apparently they were impressed with my work and asked me to come aboard with a 3 year contract to work in Southeast Aisa.

What can I say, I was shocked, overcome, joyed beyond belief. Too good to be true? Well, had everything transpired smoothly, I would have been working in Asia right this very second. I suddenly found myself in the middle of an unexpected salary negotiation and have since been feeling less and less interest and urgency from the company. And here I sit, in my little apartment, in front of my beautiful mac, with greasy hair, scruff, b.o. and a desire to eat everything in sight despite not being hungry, failing at trying to not listen to my natural inner monologue...

I've always loved writing. Any creative outlet, really. I also love using three little dots to express a pause in thought... I am horrible at keeping regiment about scribing in my journal, and thought, "Hey, everyone else is doing it, come onnnn. Don't you wanna be cool, too?!" My knees, buckling under the inter-webbal peer pressure, could no longer withstand the weight. And so...

I will do my best to keep up with this. If for no other reason, to vent and absorb, and perhaps learn from my ramblings. I often talk to myself as I am usually my own company and we have to talk to someone, don't we? Yes, I am weird. Anywho... Let's see if I can muster up the wherewithal to shower and venture out. TTFN (ta ta for now)