Pandemic Generated Netflix Movie Reviews, All the Bright Places and Before I Fall. (Or I Have Burned Through All the Movies with Guns and Demons and now I am Left with Films About the Emotions of Teenagers to Watch)

29 June 2020

This pandemic has changed things.  This rampaging virus has changed how we get food.  This spiked demon has changed how and where we work.  Finally, Covid 19 has changed the basic rhythm of how we interact with other people and when we interact with other people. There is now a distance between us and we rarely actually connect in real life.

For the most part I don’t like what has occurred.  Truly I miss sitting and having coffee with people.  Mostly I miss the banter. Talk has always been the currency of my life’s joys whether it occurs in the line in the supermarket or when I am walking by someone watering their lawn dry warm day.  

I miss so many forms of human contact that have been severed. My longing for connection would be same whether the disruption is short term or for a much longer term than I want to contemplate.  As I listened to a podcast last night called Make Me Smart from American Public Media, the hosts seemed to spiral into depression when they read a news blurb that said Americans and the world in general must prepare for things to be like this for two years. You know I really felt their pain.

Cut off from human contact we look for other things to occupy our minds. Over the past few days I have found myself watching a bit of media.  Starting Sunday and ending last night I watched two movies. One of the films I watched was because I wanted to see the star, Elle Fanning, in a full-length feature film.  

On Hulu they have been showing a series called the Great.  Ms. Fanning starring role in this farce was a revelation. She was in total control of that bawdy comedic serial. Taking on the role of Catherine the Great, Ms. Fanning was given the right script, had the right supporting cast, and most of all demonstrated her timing was impeccable.  What was captured in those video images set in eighteenth-century Russia’s implied that Ms. Fanning may very well may become a major star.

Having devoured all of the Great, I did a search for Fanning on Netflix and it took me to a movie called All the Bright Places (2020).  I hesitated to see the film because it was based on a teen novel and the topic was teen suicide.  When Thirteen Reasons Why was released a year or two ago, I watched it over about a four-day span.  Thirteen Reasons Why was well done and it was strong stuff.  The original episodes told a wrenching, but moving tale of the unnecessary loss of a young life.  Each episode dripped with the cruelty of teens all wanting to be cool when their hormones were out of control and their psyche’s weren’t grounded.  Yes, I hesitated for a good long time before watching the movie.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to the kind of dark places All the Bright Places might bring to life.

On Netflix you can hit a button that takes you to similar/related movies.  The one that popped up and caught my eye was Before I Fall (2017).  Fall stars another up and coming actress, Zoey Deutch.  Ms. Deutch was in Everybody Wants Some.  The description of Fall was this, “Forced to continually relive the day she dies in a car crash, a privileged high schooler must unravel the cosmic mystery of her suddenly looping life.”  Note well there are no words like comedic take, hilarious or subversively humorous in this description.  Thus, Fall was a message movie, a serious message movie. Again, the film involved the unnecessary death of a youth.

Both movies were movies trying to say something profound.  One was focused on the impact of the snake pit that is high school’s social component on people who are damaged, who are wounded by life.  The other seemed to be designed to look at the larger issues of meaning of human life and how that comes to the fore in the high school experience.  Each movie it seemed to me was biting off a big chunk of emotional territory to digest. Did they get it right? Well…

A side note about why I watched what I watched and when. About 10 days ago I had watched the vulgar and crass alternate version of Groundhog Day called Palm Springs on Hulu. Having wandered so recently through the filthy take on the live a day, fall asleep, repeat a day cycle, I wasn’t sure I wanted to take on a potentially darkly emotional version of a repeating cycle narrative. All the Bright Places won.  (I note Palm Springs is not meaningful but it is a fun diversion.  The actress Cristin Milioti is so much fun to watch that it almost makes the starring presence of Andy Samberg bearable.  Throw in J.K. Simmons playing a demented cop and the whole film reaches a B -, or for those of you who prefer a number rating 79 out of 100. All the Bright Places was cued up.

The lead character in All the Bright Places is a high school senior who has suffered the traumatic loss of her sister.  A horrible accident took place and one sister lived and one sister died. Violet, played by Ms. Fanning, rides a bike and won’t get in a car.  She lived and her beloved sister perished.  Violet is tortured with survivor’s guilt.  Her affect is flat and she seems lost in a world that cannot penetrate the hard shell created by her pain.  In the narrative the space inside that shell is piling up one dark thought upon another.

We meet Violet as she is standing atop the railing of an overpass. Violet is clearly debating whether to jump.  We meet Theo Finch as he stops to try and pull Violet back from the edge, literally. Obviously, Theo succeeds or it would be the shortest angst-ridden teen romance ever. But Theo for this gallant knight moment is not meant to be an overly sympathetic character.  He is in fights.  He is dangerous.  The darkness insider this young man shows many signs of trouble ahead. Theo is a pressure cooker ready to blow.

Justice Smith who plays Theo is charged with a difficult task.  His role demands that he portray a troubled and unstable character. Additionally, he must also show an inner childlike wonder that makes him so attractive to Violet.  Mr. Smith succeeds 70% of the time in carrying this two-pronged acting burden.  He succeeds most often showing us the wonder in his heart.  Theo dark moments just don’t seem to fit. His absences without explanation and his explosive outbursts just don’t seem ravaged and painful enough to be believed. It is as if Theo’s darkness is being conveyed by the static flat colored tortured facial expression so common in graphic novels.  Mr. Smith just doesn’t give us the nuanced behaviors of the mentally distraught that can explode with force on the big screen if done right.

Ms. Fanning as Elle hits the mark of a teen in a dark space opening up again to life after the tragic death of her sister. Violet’s character seems real more than 90% of the time. Ms. Fanning’s body language coveys the awkward and clumsy physicality of a late teen girl/young woman at first crippled by an emotional weight that should not be hers to bear.

Much of the movie is set on odd sites throughout Indiana.  Some people like me love these kinds of movies.  There is an older Canadian film called One Week with Joshua Jackson as the main character travels Canada looking at all the giant things. He travels to the 20-foot-tall goose in Wawa, Ontario and then to a giant (several story) hockey stick out on the prairies. Violet and Theo traipse Indiana in search of home-made roller coasters and oddly useless granite markers. As they wander Indiana in search of the odd but notable, Violet opens up to life at again. Ms. Fanning conveys this in a way that seems natural and unforced. Theo, despite his nurturing of this welcomed progression in Violet, spirals toward an inner maelstrom, the genesis of which is really not developed well.

This film is Ms. Fanning’s showpiece.  She carries the development of her character with an authenticity that is moving.  Her portrayal of Violet demonstrates that she can inhabit a character almost completely when given the right script.  Mr. Smith if given better material to work with could very well prove to be a strong and solid actor.  But the writing here leaves him in the lurch one time too many.

One final quibble needs to be voiced.  There is an exposition scene at the end of the that hurts the narrative.  What Violet feels as the screen fades to black could have been handled better with an internal voiceover or a montage of images rather than a clunky speech before an audience comprised of people who in reality could not care less.  

There came a point about midway through this movie where what the writers had done with Mr. Smith’s depiction of Theo that made me frustrated.  I needed a break despite how fascinated I was with the general storyline and Ms. Fanning’s clear capturing of the essence of Violet.  At this point I jumped to Before I Fall and settled in for a different take on the American teen experience.

The elevator description of Before I Fall, is well think Mean Girls without humor but with much pathos merged with an ending that tries to be spiritually illuminating in a western Buddhist kind of way.  Deutch plays high school senior Samantha Kingston. She is pretty.  She is privileged.

In the opening five to ten minutes of the film we Sam go through a normal high school teen’s day, if that teen lived in the upper-class strata of the Pacific Northwest.  We see her at her architect designed home showing a strained relationship with her parents and sister. We see here headed to school in a car with friends. We watch her at school, she is clearly one of the mean girls at the top of the social pecking order at this particular school. What comes next is that we see her at a party with any number of cringe worthy moments.  Finally, and suddenly, without apparent rhyme or reason, dying in a SUV accident.  And then the day resets and begins again.  And again. And again.

Counting the main character there are five characters that matter in this film. These are in no particular order, two enemies, a wannabe boyfriend, her kid sister and the other co-leader of the mean girls. The importance of each of these persons in Sam’s life and in Sam’s last day comes out in a different repetition of Samantha’s ongoing series of death days. Some of the characters seem very wooden and contrived, but some are identifiable as decent representation of teen life. 

The movie is jumpy tied to it narrative form of living the same day again and again. The movie pivots from the allure of romance to the banality of losing one’s virginity. It swings from the cruelty of teen cliques to the inevitability of fate superseding any attempt to assuage the pain inflicted by such cruelty. At times the film seems obsessed with driving home the point that years of interpersonal harm cannot be ameliorated with the actions that can be carried out in a single day, save one.

Truth be told this story has been told before, and told often.  Before I Fall should be nap inducing dull. But as the film progresses, and as Sam tries different tweaks to break the endless of cycles of reliving her last day, there is a sincerity in some of the small conversations and gestures that will keep your eyes open and should keep you watching. To see someone try to evolve into a whole cloth of a person without guidance, save for two stray bits of cosmic messaging, well, it makes you root for Sam to achieve what she must do to break the cycle.

In the end I liked both movies.  But I am an old man and I like messages that say growth is possible, despite pain and trauma. Do these movies work? The answer is sort of.  All the Bright Places works because one actress carries the whole emotional weight of the tale with real feeling.  The other works because as the film goes on the story telling improves and you begin to care about the character.  You begin to root for her and you wish that her gestures, her growth could make a difference.

Do these films for their intended audiences?  I don’t think so. All the Bright Places has a theme that is easily ignored among the immortal young. Growth and persevering over pain are concepts that require too much of long-term thinking for hard headed, hard charging 14-18-year-old high school students to absorb.  Before I Fall might strike a chord with some of the youth who see it, but many will simply focus on the coolness of Sam’s clique as depicted in the early parts of the film. Before I Fall has a good heart, but the way the message unfolds will not capture a casual viewer. The movie will not bring a young viewer to an understanding of the hurts the main character, in tandem with her clique, cause and how they might have considered making some changes.

These are both very beautifully filmed movies.  These are both films with something to say.  But Ms. Fanning in her body language conveys the greatest reality to be found in either story.  You could waste about two hours in far less enjoyable ways that watching one or the other of these movies.

Service Issues in the Time of Pandemic/Up North for Us this Year

28 June 2020

On Saturday night we had movie night.  The event went swimmingly well.  The positives of this evening have been noted before.  The only issue on Saturday was that the screen was located a little too near the AC unit. The roaring of the unit could drown out the movie’s soundtrack. Thus, on a very hot night I turned the AC off so we could hear the movie.

Important words from my eldest son, “Never turn the AC off when it is a hot night.”

When, after our company had departed, we went to turn the unit back on it didn’t.  I did all the things you are supposed to do.  I waited five minutes for the reset.  I put new batteries in the thermostat.  I flipped the circuit breaker a couple of times.  Nothing worked. It was a dead unit.  It seemed to have shuffled off the mortal coil. It was an unconditioner. 

On Saturday night despite the outside air temperature being in the 80s the interior of the house was moderately cool.  Everyone seemed to sleep okay.  But as the day went on the temperature inside continued rising until the house became quite warm, well in reality it became unbearable.

I can see you scratching your head saying why didn’t you call a service tech on Sunday? Understand I have had my furnace die twice on Christmas Eve and once on New Year’s Eve all occurring on a Friday so the desperate need for service occurred over a long holiday weekend.  I HAVE PAID GOLDEN TIME BEFORE!!!!. As a result, I have had a service contract for 20 years on the HVAC in my home. On Sunday morning I did call a service tech from the company I have held this contract with.  He arrived about 11:30 AM.

Initially the older burly tech told me I would have to pay the Sunday rate. Very carefully I had to explain to him I have had the service contract for over 20 years and I just had to pay the charge for a normal visit.  He grudgingly acceded to this state of affairs.  He walked out back of the house and cracked the case of the AC.  Within five minutes he told me my old (he emphasized this several times) had a bent capacitor.  All in he told me he could install one right now but it would be between $300 and $400. 

My AC is 22 years old and is a dinosaur.  But if this pandemic ends, this house is not going to be my permanent residence. (Yes, using the word if was a deliberate choice over using the word when.) I asked him how much a new unit would cost and he quoted me $4,000 give or take a few hundred dollars. I told him to replace the bent capacitor.  

When the capacitor was swapped out the unit did not turn over.  At that point this tech told me my fan must have blown.  He told me it would take a day, maybe two, to get the part.  Putting this fix in place would round the whole bill up to about $1,000.  

At this point the cost/benefit analysis kicks in.  An average AC unit’s life is about 17-20 so the beast I have is running on borrowed time.  If a new unit costs $4,000 and cuts my electric bill by a quarter, and a repair costs $1,000 with not guaranty of more than a year or two of life which way do I go? New it was to be.

We decided to get three or four quotes and to slog out the heat on Sunday night.  Well only one HVAC vendors out of four contacted could get here before Thursday.  One guy could work in a quote late on Monday. 

Monday afternoon this one contractor arrived to quote a new unit When he got here, I told him about the bent capacitor and the possible fan issue and the probable need for a new unit.  His quote was low, but not as low as it could have been. Trust me this old house’s quirks make nothing ever simple or cheap to fix. 

This guy said, “Well, I will tell you what.  I have a capacitor on the truck.  Let’s drop that in and see if it works.”  The cost if it worked would be about $157 including labor.  Well he dropped it in and nothing.  Then he said, “Oh, we have to wait for the five-minute reset.”  At the five-minute mark the unit choogled on and started to do its thing.

Taking my credit card, he told me this should get me through the summer.  He also opined that if I want a new unit to buy it in March or April because that is when the sales are.  Per the tech in April the heating season is ending and people haven’t focused on their AC yet and that is why there are sales.

Because the guy who was quoting me on my AC could not get over until four PM, and given at 3 PM the inside temperature upstairs was 84 degrees, I made the executive decision to book a room at the local Holiday Inn Express. Nobody had gotten a decent night’s sleep Sunday night.  It was just too damn hot.  Cots were set up in the basement and out on the porch but sleep just did not come. A king bed was a great thing to sleep in.  

Note the hotel was 1 mile north and 1 mile west of my house.  Thus, we got up north.  We did wash all touchable surfaces at the hotel with Clorox wipes. 

So, I am out $256 in fees for HVAC service. However, thanks to a knowledgeable service technician I am not out an unneeded expense of $1,000. Plus, I have a new service contact, Jenks Plumbing and Heating in Mason, Michigan. Third, my house I cool and there is not that much summer left.  Finally, I have a long conversation that I must have with the company who I have trusted for years.  I don’t know if it is them, or their tech, but something isn’t right about the whole initial experience. 

Safe Entertainment in the Time of Pandemic

26 July 2020

How do you responsibly entertain when a pandemic is raging?  Bars and movies are for the most part closed.  Even if they weren’t do you really trust people who are drinking to observe social distancing.  And is there a bar anywhere with a decent HVAC that isn’t going to pump tainted air onto you again and again?

Card games are probably out, you have to sit too close for the two-meter rule.  And what about people’s sweaty fingers fondling those cards during you “friendly” game of pinochle or crazy 8s? Individual tug of war would probably be okay, but what fun is that?  You really need a team and a mud pit to enjoy that activity to the fullest.  On top of that tug of war is a one and done kind of event.  Whatever you do outdoors is better than indoors, more air circulation.

Well, we took safe entertaining on. With a Vankyo projector, a MacBook Pro, a Bose Sound link II speaker and an Amazon recommended screen we created a drive-in movie right on our deck.  All told we spent about $150 out of pocket to create the Toddeplex Odeon. Additionally, about 20 minutes of time was expended hanging the screen and setting up the projector.  Not a huge outlay of either money or energy.  When you consider a trip to the cinema, when it returns to operation, for four people will easily run $60 a visit, three get-togethers like this will have covered the cost of outfitting the whole thing. 

To test the set up we invited another couple over.  We chose them because we knew they had concerns about the virus, and as a result they had been aggressively pursuing social isolation.  I had been given directions to pick a movie that was by and large a positive film and not one of the dark European cop or spy or supernatural stories I usually watch.  I picked a relatively recent French film.  In the Netflix listing the movie is called Bad Seeds. It is a little movie with heart told in the quirky way French movies often tell warm stories, quaintly off kilter right up until the end. 

Because we are out here on the edge of the Eastern time zone and because it is mid-summer we had to wait until about 9:15 to start the film.  But when it started the movie image was crisp enough that it was easy for all of us to read the subtitles.  Popcorn was provided in two separate bowls from two separate bags.  Each couple provided their own beverages.  Seating was in two pods of two set more than six feet apart both about 10-12 feet away from the screen.

Socially distanced movie night worked. We were able to see the movie clearly.  We were able to talk easily both during the film and afterwards.  And you know what?  It felt good to talk and laugh and engage in wild trains of conversation with people while feeling relatively safe. Luckily for us we had an outdoor space that was perfect to do this.  We cannot hide away totally.  But if we are smart, well then, we can engage is some social life.  Real honest conversation and open laughter can do wonders to fend off the air of depression that this pandemic carries with it. I raise a glass of Framboise Belgian Ale to our moving forward safely.

What is Happening in Portland is Wrong. Period.

21 July 2020

Late last week my oldest son began telling me about the clandestine deployment of Federal forces in Portland, Oregon.   He was quite concerned about these forces inclusive of the Customs and Border Patrol use of unmarked vans.  He also was upset that officials wearing camouflage without badges or any identifications had been observed throwing protesters into unmarked vans. I kind of blew him off saying we don’t use police state tactics like that here.  I think I couched it in terms like ‘that is something Pinochet would do, not the US government.” I was so very wrong.

Trying to make sure he wasn’t paranoid I scanned all my usual news sources from that day one and saw nothing at first.  But then the stories began bubbling up.  Detailed accounts came first from small outlets and then a brief story appeared in one national source.  By today, Tuesday July 21^st, the story has hit the main stream media.

President Trump has indicated that he has just begun to roll out this program.  Portland, a relatively obscure and small west coast city out of the mainstream of American vision, was his test case. The man on Pennsylvania Avenue says he plans to roll this heavy-handed response tested in Portland out to cities run by liberal/radical Democratic mayors and take control of the streets back. The President really hasn’t responded to publicly raised issues of detention without probable cause of persons by unnamed federal agencies and unidentified officers using unmarked vehicles. His response is that the Democrats in control of Portland and these other places including Chicago, are weak and that he is going to bring back law and order to them, one of his key campaign talking points.

Just a little constitutional law primer.  The First Amendment indicates clearly, Congress shall make no lawrespecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. The Fourth Amendment provides, The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized. The Fifth Amendment says that individual liberty shall not be impinged without due process of law.

The case law has long been established that when an officer observes unusual conduct which leads them reasonably to conclude that criminal activity may be afoot, he or she may briefly stop the suspicious person and make reasonable inquiries aimed at confirming or dispelling the officer's suspicions. Terryv. Ohio, 392 U.S. 1 (1968); Minnesota v. Dickerson, 508 U.S. 366 (1993) The reasonable nature of the stop combined with the brevity of the contact are key here. You can’t as Michael Curtiz acting as Captain Renault in Casablanca just say, “Round up the usual suspects.” The importance of the brevity component in a slightly different context was reemphasized when the Court determined a state may set up highway checkpoints where the stops are brief and seek voluntary cooperation in the investigation of a recent crime that has occurred on that highway. Illinois v. Lidster, 540 U.S. 419 (2004).

A brief review of the literature did not disclose to me a clear requirement that police specifically answer questions about their names or badge numbers.  However, the general consensus was that the fact that the officers were in clearly identifiable police agency uniforms and were using clearly marked police vehicles made the citizen aware they were involved with a bona fide police force action.  Note in Portland the Federal agents have been using unmarked vans and are wearing no identification whatsoever on their persons.

Having laid this out let us look at Portland.  If you go to the news stories coming from the cities there are numerous examples that no amount of straining can fit into the key rule set out in Terry about brief investigatory stops. Mark Pettibone’s story is one getting a great deal of press but there are others, https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2020/07/9919725/portland-protest-officers-unmarked-vehicles-trump-twitter  Mr. Pettibone was grabbed, put in a van and never told who took him or why.  He was read his Miranda rights so he was clearly arrested, but no charges were laid.  He was summarily turned back out onto the street after he refused to relinquish his Miranda rights. 

In another case, a Navy veteran one Christopher David, had his hand broken in another very disturbing tale. Mr. David was a graduate of the Naval Academy and he wanted to ask what was the basis for the Federal agents actions acting in this secret-police like manner.  In response to Mr. David’s questions to the anonymous men in camo he was beaten and his hand was broken to the point it will require surgery, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/20/us/portland-protests-navy-christopher-david.html  

There is no indication that the Federal agents observed either of these men doing anything wrong other that being out on the night of a protest. There is no indication that the night these men was encountered by the unnamed men in unmarked uniforms and cars were particularly violent or that there contact with these agents was anywhere near a violent incident of any sort.

We all want ours to be a safe world. We all want things to work in an orderly fashion.  We don’t want ugly lawlessness at our doors. But the world is not safe and the world is disordered.  People have legitimate grievances.  George Floyd’s ugly and painful death, a death that was unwarranted and unlawful, ripped off scabs opening the wounds have long festered from racism and classism in this country. People of color have had enough.  People denied access to the economic mainstream have had enough. People who don’t agree that a white race governed, male centric, capitalistic to the point of social Darwinism set of values and institutions are their vision of American, have had enough.  Right here, right now they are petitioning and assembling seeking a redress of grievances and they are doing it in the streets.

Out in the streets sometimes passions get inflamed and things get violent.  In those situations, arrests are made with merit.  But the vast majority of protests are not violent.  Graffiti is not violence despite what the Homeland Security folks say. But to pick up people who are not observed acting violently or behaving in a manner that would raise a reasonable suspicion of being engaged in criminal behavior is not lawful.  Simply being out on the night of a protest or posing a question however awkwardly to someone apparently a law enforcement official warrants neither an arrest by anonymous agents of an anonymous agency or a beating by those same agents. Reasonable grounds and brief contacts.  Protesting is not a reasonable ground to assume criminality. Being out on the night of a protest is not a reasonable ground to assume criminality.

The fact that Trump is targeting cities controlled by officials of the Democratic party for his deployment of his anonymous police forces is as troubling as these secret agents of these secret agencies disappearing people off the streets of Portland. None of these mayors have requested Federal help in their cities.  Trump is a big fan of local rule, we have all observed his hands-off approach to the coronavirus and testing.  The President has ignored countless requests from governors and majors for Federal government assistance with testing and assistance in controlling the outbreak.  But when Mr. Trump perceives there to be a problem with unruly assembly relative to long simmering grievances in cities controlled by the opposing political party during an election year, when his chances of re-election are starting to look ugly, he is willing to send in Federal agencies to usurp local law enforcement powers in a way not consistent with the parameters of the Constitution.  

I am aghast that people of both parties aren’t incensed by this use of federal agencies to bolster the President’s apparently sagging political fortunes. There are legal rules related to arrests and detentions that must be followed.  What is occurring now is far outside that legalities. The fact that protestors who don’t look or sound like you are the victims may seem to make this more palatable.  But what happens when a President’s focus fixes on an area where you live because of perceived labor unrest, or perceived anti-government sentiments or some other speciously perceived problem? Will a stop of you or a loved one by an unmarked vehicle carrying an unidentified government agent be okay with you?  I don’t think so. 

There are norms of Federal and status government relations.  Opting to send Homeland Security and the CBP in without a request when there is a police presence on the ground already violates those norms.  This is not the sending in of the National Guard to enforce the orders of the Supreme Court in the 1960s.  This is a unilateral decision by a politically weakened President trying to bolster his support among his base.  It is without precedent.  

What is happening is just wrong.

Gunk-Moss, Mold, Algae

18 July 2020

A couple of months ago I switched insurance companies. The difference in prices between my old company and the new one was significant. The weird bit was that the new company wanted me to remove the moss and algae on my back-porch’s roof. I was told I could wait until warmer weather to take care of it.

I guess is that the wonk at the insurance company felt that the 8 day stretch of 90-degree days with no rain qualified as warmer weather.  They asked for a picture that it had been taken care of. Ugh.

About two months ago I bought rope, a harness and this blue goo that in solution was supposed to kill moss, mold and algae.  In an effort to test its efficacy I mixed up some of it in a pump vessel I had bought and sprayed the interior roof of my back porch.  Having let the solution sit for a few days I attacked the ceiling with a ladder and a scrubbing brush.  Darn if that stuff wasn’t downright amazing.  See the photo above.

The sense I got from the insurance company was that they wanted proof now.  I really did not have time to spray and wait, not unless I wanted a premium increase.  Thus, on Tuesday, I found myself on my back roof with a wire brush and a bucket of soapy water. The whole deal took about 2 ½ hours of furious roof brushing.  (It really was like tooth brushing, but on a much larger scale).  I clicked a photo of the clean roof and sent it off to the underwriter for approval.

In this time of pandemic, I am assuming that we are all really engaged in DIY projects from edging the lawn with hard plastic boundary material to baking pumpkin spiced chocolate chip muffins.  One you have organized your closet, sorted your shoes, and taken three carloads of paper to be recycled, you have to focus on stuff like this. TV binges only take you so far.

My guess is that come mid-fall our houses will be spiffy and polished. Our minds will be in need of deep, deep communal therapy.  

Auric, or Pertaining to Gold

14 July 2020

Upon first awakening in the morning, I am quite aware of my mortality. At 64 my body carries enough aches and pains that getting out of bed tells me unequivocally I am still alive but that this is not assured for any length of time.  The twinges in my joint and muscles as I am swinging my legs down to slip on my sports shorts, and then raising my feet one by one to slide into my shoes, emphasizes to me that I am growing older.  These ritual motions remind also of all the stupid things I’ve ever done to this bone and cartilage frame. Those summers of water skiing and those years of bicycle riding placed this tenderness in my knees and ankles. Oh, and there were those years of walking on concrete floors back in my days as a liquor store clerk and earlier as a soft-serve stand server. I doubt anyone who has traveled these many years through this life, does not feel some shoulder pain.

Ignoring my muscles objections to moving from inertia to activity, I step outside into the golden sunshine. Often, I use the word golden often to describe morning light.  But what other words could I use, radiant, flaxen, glowing? Auric? Outside of my front door I am refreshed by the light of this brand-new day. You only get so many mornings, so many sunsets, so many rides down a backcountry road with the windows down and the stereo up. Embrace these moments. You only get to see a new flower blooming once a year and really how many more times will that be? These years, they are going by so much faster now. 

Heading off down the street a car whizzes by me with a kayak fastened sideways to its roof. Suddenly I am lost in memories of canoeing the Betsy River, the Muskegon river, the Au Sable river, and the Sturgeon River. Good times on summer weekend days past. How quickly 10, 20, 30 and 40 years slip away. Can’t stop it. Ah to be sitting on a river bank with a vodka and lemonade with good friends like Terry or Mark or John just watching the hours and the river flow away.

60 degrees out now and the world is relatively still. Not bad conditions as I head west down the neighborhood streets of my walk. Must do something to make sure that my cardiac system is functioning and that I’m breathing well and that my body is processing food into energy as it should. I want to see so many more sunrises, so many more sunsets. I want to smell the blooms of flowers I’ve never seen before. I want to taste food but I’ve never tasted before. I want to live. Like most people I don’t want some odd stray virus to rob me of the joys of the road ahead.

Living in the summer the pandemic I have been isolated from direct touch, direct contract, and direct interaction with other human beings. But I’ve been more in touch with the rhythms of natural life than I have been since I was a preteen. I know what summer means. I know the times when to walk on these days. I can sense when rain is coming. I am celebrating the once a year very short window in which fresh sweet cherries are available. I have learned again the joys of the early hours of the day unfettered by the responsibility of a job.

Today with bird songs providing a joyful soundtrack I walk and I embrace the experience of a dry cool summer day. God knows how many more times I will get to awaken to see the light that is found on a morning like this. But I’ll be damned if I let the day slip into obscurity without having made the most of it. In the secret life of early morning I celebrate with the divine has given me. I celebrate my fingers and my toes. I celebrate the smells of green lawns and flowering bushes. I celebrate the golden light in all its stained-glass splendor, creating speckled patterns as it filters through leafy green trees striking the brick walls of clean and prosperous looking houses.

Last night before I drifted off to sleep, I had watched a program on an art form I never knew existed. It was called Cante. Cante is a form of polyphonic singing introduced by one voice singing a measure with perfect pitch. Then a second voice takes over adding color and range. That voice is more melodious. Finally, a choir came in a cappella. According to the narrator the songs of Cante were sung by the common workers on the way to and from work, in the fields and on the way to mines and factories. The origin of this particular style of singing appears to have been lost to history. Could have been the Moors, the Romans or maybe even the Celts. But it was clearly a labor of love to participate.

As I walk out this morning I too am singing although I am not headed off for work, or to school, or to any other obligation. I am singing a song I’ve had long in my heart. Learned it when I was a teen. The chorus concludes with the line, “if you saw through my eyes what would you do? “ Me, I just get up each day and fight the inertia, the aches and pains and go out and savor what has been offered to me in these the remaining years of my life.

One Hundred and Eighty-Six Days

11 July 2020

Six full months of retirement have now passed. Whew, so fast have gone these one hundred and eighty-six days.  

No, I am not bored.  No, I am not stressed.  Well, I am stressed just like most people I know are stressed given the circumstances of the pandemic, but nothing beyond that. Yes, I am disappointed that I am not in Europe. Yes, I am finding a way to count daily victories. Hey on Thursday I dropped off 17 bankers boxes to the document destruction place.  Also using WW, I have in the last 7 weeks lost 10 pounds.

There are some rituals that have become very important.  Exercise is the number one ritual.  I had worked my way up to a sixty to seventy-minute fast walk, but I have backed down to about 40 to 45 minutes at a time.  It just feels like a better fit. My body at the end of seventy minutes seems to take a little too long to snap back.

As for keeping informed of the world around me I have to be careful not to ingest too often or too much. When I spend a day tied to the radio or the computer news feed, I find my hands clenched in rage.  My teeth grind and I am sure my blood pressure goes up.  So, I listen to three or four news podcasts first thing when I get up.  In total these pods of information clock in at about 45 minutes.  I try not to return to monitoring events as the day progresses.  If a thing in the stream of noise is important, it will still be important tomorrow.

I have come to rely on my Apple music suggestions for new music each week.  For years I didn’t have my ear tuned to new music, but hey I am retired now and I have time to listen. Over the past eight weeks since I started doing this, I have found a great number of emerging artists I really like.  There have been some tunes I knew as soon as I heard them, would become regulars in my personal playlist.

On this particular day, July 11, the sky is clear.  Looking out at the yard the tendrils of grass wave in the mild wind now blowing from west to east.  Joe Cocker sings a soulful reading of Bob Dylan’s Catfish. So lush, so green this summer world.  Flowers adorn the table where I work. So beautiful, so peaceful.

To the River's Edge

The Author in Full Curmudgeon Mode

2 July 2020

The Mythological River

Got up pretty much at 6:30 AM.  Quickly following I had breakfast, made coffee and cleaned the kitchen. Finishing these things up quickly allowed me to start my walk at 7:15. 

To the river, that is where I headed.  Down to the river I went. Most of the walk from my home to the river is verdant and shaded.  Most of the walk to the water at that hour is solitary. Today is supposed to be hot, in the nineties. In the hour before 8 AM the walk was not too bad.

What is it about the water carried by a river that is so important to us?  So many songs have been written about the call of the river.  You have Springsteen’s The River.  There is Billy Joel’s River of Dreams.  You can’t have lived through the early 1970s and not heard Down by the River.  And then there are the lyrics of the Ballad of Easy Rider, “The river flows, it flows to the sea. Wherever that river goes that's where I want to be. Flow river flow, let your waters wash down. Take me from this road to some other town.”

Our river focus isn’t limited to song.  The Jordan River is huge in the bible.  You got Tom and Huck travelling the river.  Southern Baptists engage in full immersion baptisms in little rivers like the Waccamaw located all over the southland. In Hesse’s Siddhartha the enlightened brahmin’s son has Govinda kiss his head. In Govinda’s vision that follows, life is depicted as a river of ever-changing faces and experiences.  

The Red Cedar July 2, 2020

States are divided by rivers; countries are too. Rich folks build mansions on the bluffs overlooking rivers.  Poor folks pride themselves on the boats they cruise the rivers with. Bars build terraces hanging out over river banks. People love to lean on the rails and watch the water flow.  

Never mind that rivers flood and destroy communities and take lives.  The draw to flowing water is strong and inexorable. Something primal calls us to the rivers edge.  As hardwired as any other urge we have, is the wish to wade in the water.

Today I heard the water’s call and I answered it with a walk to the water’s edge in the early morning golden light. I don’t know why I am drawn to moving water.  But I accept it.

July is Here

1 July 2020

The month has turned.  The weather is warm and dry. There is a breeze.

In order to type this up I had to clean off the table where I am sitting.  The table is a tile and metal combination with an umbrella out the center.  When I tried to move my mouse, it seemed that what I thought was marbling on the tile was actually dust turned to goo from the winter. My mouse struggled.  I took this as a sign to get out a shop cloth and some soapy water and address the grimy goo on the table’s surface.  A couple of hard swirls with the cloth and a bright shining surface reappeared. With the temperature near ninety, the table dried very quickly.

Lots of stuff is happening in the world.  Most of the world seems to have come to a detente with the pandemic. Europe is reopening for tourists.  Cities there are struggling the most. But this is true throughout the world.  Still, EU governments seem to have handled the majority of problems with strict diligence.  In America we have not done so well.  Experts are saying we in the US are reaching a tipping point where the virus will be uncontrollable. It is clear some feel this is what should happen, the whole herd immunity thing. However, given my age and health I am not on board with this.

I will not delve into the political issues that are roiling right now like who knew the Russians had a bounty on the lives of US soldiers in Afghanistan.  Another day perhaps.  Every day will have its breath-taking political issues. I don’t want to deal with that today. 

I subscribe to several library services online.  Hoopla is a favorite.  I have tried to read fiction a couple of times recently but for some reason with one or two exceptions I haven’t been able to stick with the books.  Yesterday I downloaded Will Durant’s Caesar and Christ.  I know it is an ancient tome having been written in 1942 but Mr. Durant has a way with words.  I have listened to two out of thirty-two hours so far.  God, my days in Latin I, II and III have come rushing back to me.  There are also little bon mots about what made the republic last for so many centuries that would apply to the disfunction of our political life today.  The uncoupling of the individual from the need to promote the common good mashed up with the unbridled avarice of those long in power seem so on point.

A glass of iced tea, a portable computer and a space comfortable and quiet save for the many, many birds singing both near and far offer me a perfect place to write.  While my hope is that Americans will come to their senses and realize addressing the virus is a marathon, not a sprint, I am not counting on it.  People believe in individual liberty, but they don’t want to bear the burden of social responsibility.  All freedom and no burden is a ugly look on a citizen.  Still, as long as I have this little space to work from, I will be free from isolation.  As long as the sun is shining, (okay as long as it is not raining or snowing, this is Michigan) I will be able to find a reason to smile.