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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| Funny how some movies pass the test of time, while many popular ones don't. For instance, a dark movie like It's A Wonderful Life didn't do so well originally. However, it's now hailed as a masterpiece, and is replayed more than most movies, and has been redone, both seriously and comically, by dozens of newer filmmakers. The appeal is that it makes all of us think about how or if life would be different if we had never been born. It's not just a holiday tradition. Another one that did well the first time, but has enjoyed rerun status, and is finally getting some critical acclaim is The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. It is a grandiose film that tackles a lot of subject matter, but you feel like you're watching something artistic. Sometimes I'm not sure, but there are some magical moments. There is the cemetery scene near the end that takes almost inaction and stretches it out in a breath-holding, intense passage with music that builds the suspense to great heights. The camera darts all around catching the nervous thumbs on the guns, the twitching eyes, (no one has narrower eyes than Lee Van Clief) to beads of sweat to clenched teeth. Actually, the camera work is excellent there. The editing weaves the rest of the spell. The sound and the music are not only from that time period but they help make the movie an epic. The story is long and dramatic and has a lot of surprises. But I never got the title. Not even in the early 70's, did it make sense. There's the bad, okay. We all get the bad. Who is the ugly? It's easy when you're young; you pick the one you're least attracted to, Eli Wallach. As you get older, you realize, he's someone's husband and there are probably lots of women who thought he was kind of cute. I wouldn't call him ugly. Maybe he had an ugly personality, but it was no worse than Lee Van Clief's character. But the good? No one in the movie is good! Clint Eastwood was good-looking, but that's a far cry from good. Maybe by contrast to the bad; naw, a thief is still a thief. Yet, even with the peculiar, non-sense title, it's a spectacular movie, and deserves to be seen every couple of years. |
| Still upset over the wolf and coyote roundup, I did some research today. I'm disgusted. In the state of Idaho, after Christmas, they actually have a legal shootout of wolves and coyotes. The article I found said that basically these people want to say I can do it, and you can't stop me. That disgusts me. Another article said that it's the lack of big game that causes these hunters to go after what they can find in abundance. Again, disgusted. I found plenty of articles about coyotes attacking children in California and other places. Now it's legitimate to protect people and their farm or ranch animals. I also read that the overabundance of coyotes is a human error. By eliminating natural predators, like red wolves and cougars, coyotes grow too quickly and have to scatter looking for food and water. At one time, you didn't find coyotes east of the Mississippi, but now you do. In fact, I was surprised to discover they are in my neighborhood in the east. (I live on a mountain by a river, just outside city limits.) They only come into the residential section when they are sick or rabid. I have read in the past about the environmental inter-dependency of clean water, grasslands, and wolves. When one part is destroyed or eliminated, the rest of it falls apart. It takes a few years to self-correct, but when the original balance is restored, the area thrives again. Some animals do overpopulate, creating bad health conditions for themselves, and others. Squirrels can be destructive, eating the wood siding on homes, vandalizing bird feeders, toys, sheds, and getting too friendly with their sharp claws with toddlers. Deer, yes, Bambi, can eat your vegetable garden, your spring bulbs, endanger drivers, and frequently be found with parasites and skin diseases when the population is not controlled. Seagulls have no known predators, and humans love to feed them. They come inland looking for food and can wipe out a parking lot, creating a nasty mess and make a lot of noise. I'm all for hunting for food, or shooting groundhogs before they wipe out the garden. I've eaten wild boar, deer, and bear. I don't eat squirrel or rabbit or quail. I will eat buffalo, but only the kind that grows on a ranch; it's lean and healthy.Killing just for the sport of it is just wrong. |
| I just learned that there is a yearly roundup of wolves and coyotes for the fun of it. There was a picture on Facebook of dead bodies lined up in rows. I asked, "Why? Were they attacking livestock in huge numbers?" No, it's just a yearly thing. How gross is that? Now if they wolves are coming after my pets, my children, or my cows, I'm all for protecting my property. If the coyotes are eating my chickens, same thing. But for the sport of it? The fun of it? You can't even use them for food, like deer or elk! I can't believe this isn't illegal! I'm not going to use this as an anti-gun argument. If I lived in the mountains, or in a wilderness area, I'd want to be able to protect myself from wild animals. I had a friend, who was a sissy when we were growing up. She was afraid of spiders. But as a young married woman she shot an 80 pound mountain cat when she was alone with the children. You do what you have to for your family. But these people who go after wolves and other wild animals would do so with any means they have, including cruel traps. I am horrified that things like this are still going on in a tree-hugging era. I can't believe someone is dumb enough to post pictures and brag about it. Where is the outrage of the people in that state? |
| I discovered a lot of things researching my ancestors. I found a lot of second and third cousins for one thing. One guy knew little of his grandmother. She died when he was a baby. I knew some about her; she was my maternal grandmother's sister. She died of stomach cancer, so I guess that was hushed up around the children. I let him know what little I knew, and had found in my research, and what I knew of our mutual great grandparents. Except for him, most of the pople I "found" were my age or older. I had some photographs that belonged to my paternal grandmother. Fortunately, I had gone through most of them while she was alive and wrote names on the backs. She was forgetting how they were related by then. I posted some on line and got a response. A woman recognized the house as her grandmother's. We determined that it was my grandmother's aunt. Her granddaughter help me put quite a few pieces together. I had seen a brief note about my great grandfather's death in the Civil War in a published book by another, older researcher. I wasn't satisfied. I actually went to another state to the mentioned burial spot, before I discovered the information was all wrong. Detailed notes were in the Library of Congress. I put those together with some historical research on the actual battles and prison involved, and found out the truth. It was exciting, like solving a mystery. I was my detective! Nobody in my immediate family is interested in what I found out. They say interest doesn't hit until you're at least in the "over 50" club. I want to record it so that others can use it, and maybe be inspired by it. I never could substantiate the Indian claims, but I didn't disprove them either. It actually is probably that I have Cherokee in two family lines. Most Americans who've been around for four generations or more usually do have some Indian blood. The only reason I slowed down is that I hit so many brick walls. But it would be nice to put it together in some readable form. Most histories work so hard at accuracy, and the 3 proofs rule, that they're quite boring. I want people to use it but not think it's fiction. It's time to wrap it up and place it somewhere useful. |
| Why am I thinking about an old TV show? The Tall Man ran in the early sixties. I never saw it until this past year. But I do appreciate its contribution to television. It's about the American legend Billy the Kid and his good friend Pat Garrett. Now nothing about the show is historically accurate, except that two men by those names existed and were friends. But it does play up the brotherly relationship between the legend who skirted the borders of the law and his older friend who was sworn to uphold that law. That legend has captivated the imagination and just won't let go. Billy was not as bad as the myth. The show plays up his lovable personality, his kindness, and his outrageous reputation. Billy is played by Clu Gulager, a full ten years too old for the part, but who managed to make the character charming and sympathetic. He was probably too tall as well. But they managed with some camera trickery. Obviously, a lot of women found him irresistible. His energy made him appear younger. He was never motionless and looked skinny. By contrast, Pat Garret was played by Barry Sullivan, also too old for the role, but the right distance from Clu. Barry was well over six feet. Put him in some tall boots, and a big hat; he looks like a giant beside Billy the Kid. He was always serious and had a grave voice. He was always dispensing fatherly advise or threatening to give Billy a spanking. They were always looking out for each other, or lending a hand. But there was always a hint that someday they would be on opposite sides It was only a half hour show, which was unusual for dramas. The music at first was amusing, like a piece of TV history. But if you're watching a marathon, it gets nerve wracking. I like the show, even though it is not a presentation of history, but because it is yet one more interpretation of this fascinating relationship of two of the most famous cowboys. And the two actors have become two of my favorite TV stars. All of the roles I've seen them in were very well done. |
| At first I thought 2015 is going to be the year of less. Less junk food, less clutter, less stress, less worry. Less anger. Fewer rules. Fewer deadlines. But then I realize I need more. More exercise. More fiber. More fresh air. More writing. More reading. More joy. More flights of fantasy. (The latter leads to creativity.) One of the finest moments this past year is when my whole extended family stretched out on the grass with the little ones, looking for four leaf clovers. The Easter egg hunt had run its course. So little ones and twice as many adults of all ages sat or squatted or crawled on the grass collecting clovers. It was quiet and noisy all at once. Time was suspended and the moment was everything that mattered. If you could freeze a moment and keep it forever, that would be such a moment. I want more moments like that. They cannot be programmed. They just happen. I almost listed fewer responsibilities. But that wouldn't be me. I like being on committees, serving in various ways. It makes me feel useful, like I'm making a difference. I like being knowledgeable, or stepping up with authority to lead others. I like having older people turn to me for words of wisdom. I like being charitable. Maybe I need to be more charitable with time and money in 2015. Maybe most important, I want to be more forgiving of myself when I fall short of my own expectations and goals, and a little less critical of myself. I've had that negative voice in my head all my life telling me how terrible I am. I turn it off a lot, but it comes out at weak moments. I'm going to listen less. Happy New Year to me. |
| Is it that time again? When hope springs eternal in the human breast? At last, I'm going to lose weight, write the perfect novel, make a million bucks, find true love, discover a cure for the common cold, instill human kindness in the worst of mankind, and bring about world peace? I resolve to end hunger, disease, injustice, cruelty, racism, sexism, inequality, and intolerance, while at the same time finding personal liberty, happiness and freedom of expression. Well, okay, I'm overreaching. But years, no decades, of disappointments have caused me to be sarcastic and to be realistic. I've even gone the other extreme and had no resolutions whatsoever; that wasn't very satisfying either. I can only hope or resolve for things that I know I can control. For a very worldly example, last year I decided to make a bigger effort for nice manicures. I committed to spending the time and the money,so I could keep up with the professional women I know. But I'm a wreck when it comes to may hands. They don't make a gel tough enough for me. My nails were cracked and peeling and chipping in less than a week. They were getting shorter, not longer. And they're pretty rough on weak nails taking off the old stuff and putting on new. I settled for short natural colored nails. I just won't fit in. I can resolve to walk an hour every day, but I know I won't, so I won't promise myself. I did an exercise tape this year, 30 minutes a day, 6 days a week. After one month, I was continually sore and sort of quit. I do it once a month or so now. I have to find some other way to up the exercise, so my ratio of good to bad cholesterol will get my doctor off my back. (My good cholesterol is too low.) I'm not giving up; I just resolve to find something else to motivate me and get me moving regularly. I resolve to continue de-cluttering my life of physical things. It's been slower than I expected, but I will keep at it. I'm simplifying my holidays and family gatherings. I've already started letting them know I want less stress and responsibility. We have to change our traditions. I want to make another stab at formalizing or closing out my family history for both sides of my family. I resolve to continue writing in my blog as much as possible because I've found it helps clarify my thinking. I'm planning ahead to do NaNoWriMo again. My goal is to travel somewhere this year, if only for a long weekend. That's actually quite a bit. But I can always take stock and revise. Like everybody else, I want some good things for 2015. |
| I'm still recovering from a cold, cough, and malaise. So I'm spending New Year's Eve at home, basically killing time. We put the luminaries out on the road on time; a neighbor's son volunteered to light them. Apparently, he likes being out in the cold, and was still there when I went out in the dark to try my hand at photos in the dark. It was cool seeing the whole neighborhood with its hills and winding curves lit up with candles. I followed that with putting photos on Facebook. I served my dad some oyster stew, then slept all the way through Jeopardy. I woke up to some New Year show with Kathy Lee Gifford reviewing the past year of celebrities. (It would be too depressing reviewing the news.) It was informative. I caught celebrity gossip I missed during the year, I was reminded that this was Jimmy Fallon's first year on The Tonight Show.I learned about selfie on a stick and "belfies" (selfie of the butt). But I was really fascinated with Beyonce, Nicky Minaj, and Meghan Trainor. Only the last was new to me; I had heard her on the radio and instantly liked the song, but the name hadn't stuck. They came together, along with J-Lo, Kim,and Ellen, yes Ellen, to make 2014 "the year of the rear". (Ellen did a spoof of Anaconda, which was not pretty.) What most women always have tried to avoid is now in style, a big booty.I had to leave the TV set, go to my computer, and listen to these songs and watch these videos. I am enlightened. There is this whole phenomenon going on, a new way of thinking that's hip and cool and liberating. I've been missing out on this music, too. I liked what I heard. Well, some of the lyrics were a little out there, but probably not worse than what I listened to when I was in college, just different. So with all the things that happened this year, in science, in medicine, in politics, in finances, in history, I'm going to recall that 2014 was the year of the rear. Makes it stand out, huh? |
| 2014 wasn't a banner year as far as good years ago, but it wasn't the worse either. I didn't write the great American novel. I didn't meet the man of my dreams. or even a close second. I did not write in my blog every day.On the other hand, I didn't lose my job: I didn't lose my house or my car. Let's put a positive spin here. We did have some momentous changes in the family. My younger brother discovered he has mesothelioma. After a successful surgery, he's been given another ten years, which is, of course, just a guess. He's not bitter or sad. He just gets tired easily. He claims he's still a basically happy person. My father finally conceded that he can't drive after dark, and that maybe some of his decision making abilities aren't quite what they used to be. We have to make concessions for that. I tried some new things. I took a computer course on Thomas Jefferson, which was a thrill. I'm surprised how useful the information has been. I took part in NaNoWriMo for the first time, and the October Prep. The discipline and the commitment to complete those were a big step forward. I do think I'm trying more options in writing and demonstrating better discipline than in the past. And the feeling of actually having completed a novel, even if it isn't fit to read (yet), is tremendous. One thing I've discovered about myself is that I have a hard time with happy endings. No matter how great a story may be going, how upbeat, somehow it always takes a big downhill sweep. Real life disappointments and experiences get in the way. I don't allow myself to have high expectations, so that I won't be disappointed. Apparently, I do that in my fiction, too, pulling the rug out at the last minute. I want to work on that. It would be easy to focus on failures, or illnesses, or the news. But it helps to look at the successes and the strides forward as well, to review strengths as well as weaknesses, to recognize opportunities for growth. Reviewing the past is not to get lost in the past, but to move onward. |
| Since it was raining Christmas Eve, the neighborhood delayed the luminaries until New Year's Eve. However, Mr. Weather Man is now predicting sleet. Oh, well. At our house, we're going to pop a DVD in the box and drink some sparkling cider. I know, what an exciting life, right? Hopefully, I'll stop feeling yucky by then and can reflect on the year past. When I'm sick, I can't read. I just can't focus on the print. So I turn to TV that doesn't make me think. That's easy to come by. Speaking of TV, tonight there was a lousy selection. My dad is watching Pale Rider for the 20th time. Not a bad movie. But everything else is trash! Kids are out of school. They can stay up late. Even during prime time, there were only foul-mouthed shows that I wouldn't want to explain to a ten year old.Not that any scheduler pays attention to me, but there should be more children's shows or family options, along with the usual trash. At work I'm still trying to make the last 11 people get their flu shot. I've been kicking their butts about this since October, so we wouldn't be doing this at the last minute. So when my boss on vacation sent me an email today giving me the order to threaten them, I had no problem and no sympathy. They get the flu shot or a note from their doctor before they work tomorrow or they are suspended until they do.I got one positive response so far. We'll see. |
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