Spring in the Wintertime Fools Nature

The arguments over weather global warming is causing strange weather changes or if they're cyclical seem moot when a warm spell happens in February. No one cares -- they're just happy it's happening.

Temperatures here are at least 5 degrees above normal, which is high in an Arizona winter. When it hits the high 60s, insects appear overnight and birds hop around feasting on them.

Today I saw a red-tailed hawk soaring overhead, swooping around happily on the air currents. The covey of Gambrel's Quail made their noisy appearance in the yard, but as soon as I opened the door to take a photo, they skeedaddled. Half ran up the hill and half flew in the opposite direction. They called to each other for several minutes, until Lucky ran the rest of them off.

I managed to get a photo through the dining room window of a White Breasted Nuthatch pausing as he drilled through the bark on a tree. He flitted and climbed vertically, giddily pecking the newborn insects in the warm air.

'Being There' In The Spirit & The Flesh

Being There was an excellent film for one main reason -- its main character was guileless and caring. It didn't matter that people read much more into him than actually existed. They loved him because his kind and quiet manner allowed them to reflect their better selves.

The Oscar ceremony this year, combined with ideas from a sermon the same day, made me think of the film. Being There won two Oscars for Best Actor (Peter Sellers) and Best Supporting Actor (Melvyn Douglas) back in 1980. Ironically, both Benjamin Button and Jamal of Slumdog Millionaire were characters who had childlike qualities that made them appealing as well.

It may have been that connection that made me think of the films when the first lesson on Sunday had to do Elisha (the prophet) and his son Elijah, when the day came that Elisha knew he was to be taken to heaven. (Names that are almost as much fun as the Oprah-Uma contrast David Letterman delighted in.) Anyway, Elijah kept asking his father what he could do for him that day, and Elisha kept telling his son just to accompany him and to do nothing. So Elijah followed him around all day until the chariot of fire and horses came and took Elisha in a whirlwind into heaven, leaving Elijah as a witness.

Similarly, in the Holy Gospel reading, Jesus took Peter, James and John with him up a high mountain to witness his transfiguration and the appearance of Moses and Elijah beside him. The three Apostles were terrified by the sight of a glowing Jesus and the supernatural prophets. Peter, trying to figure out something to do, blurted out that he and the other disciples could build houses for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. A voice came from a cloud and commanded, "This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!" That shut Peter up.

In both cases, the idea was to listen and learn and understand. To be there at an important time and be supportive. Then to share what was seen. As the minister, who tends to grieving families on a regular basis put it, sometimes being there is the best thing you can do.

It may be stretching the metaphor a bit, but Jamal in Slumdog Millionaire and Benjamin Button were characters who had wisdom at a young age, and who, like Jesus, knew that sharing love and being there for those you love, is the key to life.

On another note, here is a tribute to the 499 other people who participated in the "Beat the Oscars" game that I played online for the second year in a row. I actually did worse this year than last, probably because I saw fewer films. The following email arrived today. (My nom de plume is Audrey Hepburn.) I invite any and all reading this to play with me next year.

Dear Audrey Hepburn,

Now that results have been certified by our offshore accounting firm, it's time to say thank you and goodnight to the smartest crowd in the five-year history of 'Can You Beat the Crowd?' How cool is it that 500 movie fans can pool their opinions online and correctly predict 18 out of 24 awards? Puts many a professional pundit to shame, shame, shame. James Surowiecki, author of 'Wisdom of Crowds,' the book that inspired this event, should be proud. (And maybe he'll finally join us next year.) How did we get so smart? I'd like to think it's because we all get better with practice. Or was this just an easier year to predict, thanks to the Slumdog Express? I want salute the three best of the astounding *79* players who Beat The Crowd this year (the rest of you, please make your acceptance speeches to the mirror). There's MikeyFilmmaker from Los Angeles, pursuing his dream to work in the film industry and running his own Oscar blog, Spaghetti Sauce and Sweet Peas, at mikeyfilmmaker.blogspot.com. There's Priestybear, self-described Renaissance man who thanks his wife for sleeping soundly while he watches DVDs in bed. And there's chiti95, a Peruvian student working at a Colorado ski resort. He didn't see any of the Best Picture nominees, but formed his winning opinions while following the Oscar race on the web. These three shall have their prizes for a job well done. And we hope they'll return next year so we can try to beat them! The full text of their stirring acceptance speeches appears below. The final results, including statistics about The Crowd itself, will remain posted for a year at www.srmedia.com/BeatTheCrowd/crowdRank.html. My thanks to all of you for playing, especially my friends who make this an annual ritual and a great pleasure. Thanks also to the clever souls who hide behind nicknames like Girlybird, spartanmuscle, and letsgoonacruise, and those who lit up the message boards with their Oscar energy. I appreciate suggestions for how to make 'Can You Beat the Crowd?' more enjoyable, so please send me your comments at beatthecrowd@srmedia.com. Go now, find some more redeeming way to fill idle hours, and we'll see you next year when Oscar fever begins to boil again. Your Crowdmaster, --stu rohrer

Benjamin Button Gets Vote for Meditative Film

Last night I finally took in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which was better than I had expected, and though now I understand one critic's comparison of it to Forrest Gump, its story was original enough to make it well worth seeing.

Obviously, lots of people like me dashed to the theater to try to catch the Oscar contenders, because the seats were almost completely filled for a film that came out in December. It was only playing in four other theaters in the Phoenix area.

An epic story, which begins at the end of the "Great War" with his Button's birth and ends as New Orleans is about to be slammed by Hurricane Katrina, Button features handsome actors (Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett), gorgeous cinematography, an unpredictable story to a large degree and some fine acting. Despite its longer than normal length, the pacing feels right.

Just as in Gump, the CGI effects steal the show as Pitt becomes younger and Blanchett becomes older during the course of the story. I expect it to win at least as many Oscars as Slumdog Millionaire, because it's an American film lover's movie, combining history, beauty, tragedy and a moral lesson about living in each moment. And though the ending was not the classic "happy" one, it was close enough. It is, after all, based on an F. Scott Fitzgerald short story, writer of The Great American tragedy.

Bad Morals in Hollywood? No, Just Art

Chuck Colson, one of the fall guys in the Watergate scandal, turned his stint in prison into a ministry for prisoners which, by many accounts, has done a lot of good. Today as I surfed the radio channels after several stations dropped out while driving through the mountains, I was not so impressed by a radio review of the film Revolutionary Road by Colson.

It's a film that I wasn't rushing out to see, since '50s family dramas are not my thing, but after hearing his sanctimonious review, I think it's better than being banned in Boston for piquing my interest.

The review, which can be read in full by clicking on the link in the first paragraph, judges the film's plot to be a celebration of narcissism, slams the critics who approved of the acting and jibes the Academy for picking it for award nominations. Even a quick glance at the array of reviews on Rotten Tomatoes makes it clear that not all critics liked the film.

I suppose it's possible that the film could be interpreted in only one way, but it seems that through Colson's prism, there's no room to believe that the film is a portrayal of flawed characters whose choices lead to tragedy -- a cautionary tale of sorts. Certainly, with all of the fighting and unhappiness that takes place in it, you can't consider it a glorification of self-centered people.

If the film had promoted promiscuity, adultery, or any other of the seven deadly sins, aside from pride, maybe I'd be inclined to agree with Colson. But from all reviews I've seen, it apparently does not. When I hear a review like his, about a film like that, I feel uneasy, as though if it were in his power, such films wouldn't exist. Thankfully, we have freedom of speech and expression in this country. Just as God gave us free will and a mind to use.

As much as I like some Christian films, I believe the world has to be a part of our lives, and sometimes worldly films can be instructive and inspiring. Art, even when it's ugly, has its place. When films fail as art, and when they are offensive, we have the right to walk out on them.

House Episode Tackles Religious Issues, Faith

Just saw a terrific "House" episode tonight featuring a fallen priest who has a hallucination, but it's chalked up to his drinking until the eponymous doctor takes an interest. Like most TV comedy/dramas, the deeper questions are summed up in witty dialogue, with House's cynical take the most prominent, but ultimately something profound gets through.

I won't rehash the whole plot here, but the discussions about God and suffering and faith get a superficial treatment, which would have been much more interesting if the writers actually consulted with someone who could have supplied better arguments, but hey, I'm just glad they broached the subject at all in a TV show in more than just a dark manner.

The priest's comment about how God works in coincidences reminds me of a conversation I had with my Mother recently. I told her about how difficult it was finding a pain doctor for Andy, and that how when we contacted the third one who'd turned him down, asking for a recommendation of another doctor, her staff referred us to a Dr. Ahngel. Pronounced "angel," the good doctor wasn't available either, but his office manager referred us to a doctor who was incredibly well credentialed, a former Mayo Clinic doctor who'd started a private practice, and who accepted Andy as a patient and even gave us hope of new treatments.

I told my Mother that it was as though the prayers had led us to an angel who helped us. She pooh-poohed this thinking, of course, but something else happened that day that convinced me I was on the right track. After the appointment with the new doctor, Andy met with a client and I took Lucky for a walk in a residential area nearby. A man walking down the street with a cane stopped us and told me that Lucky was a gift from God, and that we were being watched over. Lucky stopped, sat and listened to him as he petted him -- unusual behavior for Lucky. After a bit of conversation, I learned he was a Korean War veteran with leukemia and diabetes, and he didn't believe he had long to live, but he looked forward to being in heaven. He blessed us and went on his way.

It was a random meeting after nearly three hours of sitting in a waiting room filled with people in various kinds of pain, many of them very obviously suffering. I felt as though he had delivered a message I needed to hear that day, and I truly did feel blessed.

Voyage of Life in Stage Three

The church service started out well with upbeat music and I was enjoying the harmonies of the large chorus at Scottsdale Bible Church when a well-dressed middle-aged woman, slim and well-coiffed, suddenly bounced into the pew in front of us and began singing loudly and clapping with her hands over her head as though she were at a rock concert.

That would have been enough to annoy me, but then she started singing embellishments on the pop Christian song that we were singing, in effect doing a solo.

I whispered to my husband that I wished that "Diana Ross" over there would cool it. He said he thought it was great that someone with a good voice was that into the service. Later, I explained to him why it was inappropriate. Jesus even said that people shouldn't show off at services, emphasizing their piousness or making sure other people saw how much money they donated. Church is a place to worship together, because the spirit is present when people gather in His name. It is not a place for egos or self-promotion or extravagant shows. Now this is not to say that I don't enjoy a U2-charist concert with rock music in a special evening. Or a gathering that's meant to inspire people with music, clapping and exuberant sermons. But rocking out on Sunday morning just doesn't set well with me. Maybe I'm getting old and cranky, but I'm more in a pious mindset of meditation then.

Anyway, the reason I mention this is because it sparked much discussion later, and made me wonder about the woman, who attended church alone. Was she celebrating her recent conversion? Was she grateful that she survived cancer? Was she a mentally unbalanced person who was seeking attention? There's no way of knowing where she was coming from, but the sermon on the series of paintings called "The Voyage of Life" brought these possibilities to mind.

In the sermon, the minister, Jamie Rasmussen, spoke about how he was in Washington, D.C. at the National Gallery killing time and not much appreciating the artwork, until he stumbled onto the series of four paintings by Thomas Cole called "The Voyage of Life." He spoke about how Cole painted the original series for a patron who demanded that they be painted a certain way, against Cole's wishes. Later, Cole repainted the series for himself, in the way that he originally conceived it.

A born-again Christian late in life, Cole took the subject of life's journey from the Christian perspective in his last set of paintings, which became wildly popular in their day. Not only were the paintings displayed throughout Europe and in the large cities of the nascent United States, but they were one of the few paintings of the era to be made into prints and sold in this country. Cole, one of the most famous of the Hudson River school of artists, died of an unknown cause in 1848 at only age 47, leaving a wife and five children behind.

In the first painting, Childhood, a baby is in a boat with an angel steering it. The world is drenched in golden light, flowers are blooming and everything is peaceful and beautiful. In the second painting, Youth, the teenager has taken over steering and has left the angel onshore, waving goodbye, as he heads toward a misty castle in the sky. In the third painting, Manhood, the man in the boat is kneeling and praying as he heads toward rough waters under a dark sky. An angel watches from far away in the sky. In the last painting, Old Age, the angel appears to the gray-haired man in a glow of light that leads into the sky and, presumably, eternity at the end of the voyage.

The journey is filled with joy and sorrow, all at the same time, Pastor Rasmussen said, citing stories and scripture describing some examples. He also emphasized that though the journey seems long, it's over before you know it, as the Psalms passage explains:

"As for man, his days are like grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourishes. When the wind has passed over it, it is no more, and its place acknowledges it no longer."--Psalms 103:15-16.

Most importantly, and in the painting that brought him the most angst, Cole believed that middle age was when people realized their need for God the most, because life brings them to their knees at one time or another. His rich patron, who was proud and reliant on his wealth, did not want the man to be kneeling in the boat and insisted that Cole paint him standing proudly in his version.

As the minister put it, the voyage is not one that we take alone. We were made by God and God is with us. Whether we choose to make God part of our lives or not determines how well we make the voyage and ultimately, how it ends. As for me, the voyage has been so much better with God along for the ride, I can't imagine trying to survive the rapids without Him.

Hallmark Holiday Vs. Authentic Love

Valentine's Day elicits mixed emotions from me -- it's a holiday "lite" that seems more an opportunity for retailers to sell flowers and chocolates than the remembrance of a Christian saint who sacrificed himself in prison for the love of other Christians who wanted him to marry them.

Be that as it may, I went along with the schmaltzy spirit of things when friends invited us to a Valentine's dinner and music event at a Tuscan-style home at a gated community in Scottsdale. Eliza, whose mother is originally from Panama, is a member of a Latino social group in Scottsdale that hosted the Italian-themed event. After wine and a gourmet meal, a local guitarist dubbed "Riccardo" explained the lyrics of Italian pop love songs prior to playing them to a salon of about 50 listeners. Then an authentic Italian pianist played and sang with no explanation, la bella lingua doing its work. (Image from holy card on website of St. Valentine Church in Bethel, PA.)

In spite of its slight artificiality, we enjoyed a lovely evening with a touch of romance. When a woman from Guatemala told me that she'd never heard of Valentine's Day until she moved to the United States -- and felt it was charming -- I decided not to take the flowers and conversation hearts for granted anymore.

Although, in true Latin style, the attendees kept coming late into the evening, we called it a night at 11 p.m. and walked arm in arm to the car.

Chilly Scenes of February Films

February tends to be the cruelest month for film releases -- the films of Christmas season are dropping out of the theaters and the new crop are filler until the Oscars are announced. Two films being released tomorrow, Confessions of a Shopaholic (self-explanatory) and The International (a corrupt bank thriller) were reviewed by NPR commentators today as lackluster offerings.

The Rotten Tomatoes list of new films was even more discouraging -- a 6% rating for Pink Panther 2, a 25% rating for Friday the 13th (the prequel!?) and 27% for Paul Blart: Mall Cop. The highest box office take last weekend was a mere $27.8 million for He's Just Not That Into You.

My one hope is that I can find a few of the Oscar favorites that I haven't already seen and watch them in the far-flung cinemas of Phoenix. Too many contenders come out at the same time: The Reader, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Revolutionary Road. I'll start my Academy Award prep this weekend.

Back in Blogland after Snow Day

Photo from Oddball Observations

Yesterday was a snow day up here in the mountains, which means that satellite connections both for TV and internet were spotty, then nonexistent for internet. It was a forced blog vacation day. Today, after brushing off the snow, the satellite connections work again, and I'm looking out through the dining room windows at a winter scene.

I tried to read through the list of blogs from the Prescott gathering, but the connections were so slow that I was only able to peruse a handful. About 20 people showed up for the meeting Sunday, making it difficult to hear comments at the far end of the table, but if everyone on the list had appeared, it would have been far louder – 57 blogs are listed on Granny Julie’s Prescott Area Bloggers list. Some people have more than one blog, but at least 40 or so individuals are involved.

When I saw the margaritas were on special from 2 p.m. on, I figured this to be a drunk lunch bunch like the ones I used to know in the newspaper business, but it was far from it. Most were coffee drinkers and thrived on conversation. Only two of us ventured a beer, but when conversation turned to where to hold the next gathering -- the library or a bigger Mexican restaurant -- I vehemently voted for the restaurant. The last thing you need as a fledgling group is to be shushed by some librarian. Plus, as Granny J noted, people like to have snacks, and no, we don’t want to bring them, we WANT to be served. It’s all part of the fun.

The group, to say the least, is an eclectic collection of photographers, writers, humorists, collectors and expounders on subjects ranging from and including recreation, tablet PCs, art, geek motherhood, quilted dogs, real estate, Victoriana and nannies. Almost everyone is originally from somewhere else, though I’ve heard a rumor that some were born and raised here. (Have yet to meet one.)

Granny J., who writes Walking Prescott, impressed me with her active nature, despite using a portable oxygen tank. Another former journalist – and former editor of a hotel trade magazine with which I am well familiar – she’s been all over the world. I look forward to getting to know her better and everyone else in the group, and finding like-minded people who enjoy and embrace life. And if they know that nothing good comes from anything but God, even better.

Groundhog Day, Again? No, Today's Different

Graphic from The New Yorker

I feel like I just survived Groundhog Week. The Bill Murray movie is one of my favorites, because of its theme of karma, redemption and the meaning of life. But Groundhog Day this year felt more like Murphy's Law Day, and it got worse from there.

We were supposed to move the rest of the POD stored in Phoenix to storage in Prescott on Tuesday. The driver of the truck was late because he left his wallet at home in Chino Valley -- adding another hour to his drive from Prescott -- and then the U-Haul people couldn't find his paperwork. While he was en route, I called to doublecheck everything at the PODS headquarters, and they informed me that my POD had been moved to another facility in Tolleson, AZ. This was four days after I had set up the move, and there was not a peep from the company about it. So I got directions to the new facility -- 60 miles away from the old one -- and had to relay them to the driver. Then Andy checked it on his I-Phone GPS and found that the directions the PODS people gave me were wrong, and we had to give new ones to the driver. (Yes, they really are pod people, I think.)

Once we got there, the actual physical moving of the stuff didn't take long, but the truck wasn't running well (check engine light was one when he picked it up) and the air conditioning wasn't working. So his wife and baby, who came along for the ride, had to go in my car, which meant Lucky had to ride in the front seat to make room for them in back. Andy rode with Reuben.

When we finally made it back, we were all famished, and had to eat dinner. The storage place closed at 7 p.m. anyway, so Andy and I had to finish the job the following day.

The rest of the week was an uncomfortable blur of reshifting boxes, unpacking and repacking for storage and doing errands -- NYS requires their license plates sent back certified mail, BTW -- and contending with a headache that wouldn't go away. Every day was a bit of torture. I tried Tylenol, alcohol, caffeine, sugar (all the bad things), then even prayer, which helped temporarily.

I started wondering if I was going to wind up like Laura Branigan, the singer. Her one big hit was "Gloria" in the early '80s, and I interviewed her in Dallas. Later, when she was a fellow Long Islander, she was preparing to make a comeback, but had a crushing headache for a week and died of a cerebral hemmhorage.

Today, though, I got relief. I finally figured out that it was related to dust allergies. They even have a name for a severe dust allergy involving the inhalation of certain kinds of contaminated dust -- Valley Fever. But I don't have it, thanks be to God. Allegra did the trick. I hate taking it, though, and I already use a Neti pot (disgusting, yes) to rinse out my nose. I guess they have dust problems in India, too.

Today, it rained and the dust level is down outside, at least, and we're buying an allergen vacuum cleaner to replace the one broken in the move. I'm also going to church and then to meet a group of Prescott bloggers who invited me to their Sunday soiree at a local Mexican joint. So it looks like a brighter day, already.

'Slumdog Millionaire' Sign of Indian Times

I met Amitabh Bachchan once at an Asian American Hotel Owners Association convention of about 1,600 people. If the name means nothing to you, that's because you're not from India. To Indians, he's like Elvis. Women were practically swooning over him, and his security detail was at least a dozen large Indian men surrounding him. (Photo of Bachchan in his prime.)

The event was oversold by about 800 people because wives, sisters and cousins who normally would never attend the conference swarmed to see him.

I mention this because in the film Slumdog Millionaire, there's a pivotal scene showing the main character's drive to achieve his dreams in seeing Bachchan, who had flown into his slum for a tour. The child, who is locked in an outhouse by his spiteful brother, exits by jumping into the unmentionable morass below. He
holds his photo of the movie/musical star over his head to keep it clean, and runs to him, parting the crowd with his stench, and reaching out to Bachchan for an autograph. Bachchan graciously signs the photo and hands it back.

In India, to be born in a lower class, or, God forbid, as a Muslim, is to be treated like the waste left behind in an outhouse. The film is about Jamal, a survivor who becomes a "chaiwalla" or tea server at a call center, and manages to get on the game show "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire." Despite a lack of education other than the ability to read and street smarts, he rises to nearly the top of the show -- then is accused of cheating.

The film doesn't hit a single off-key note, and leaves the audience cheering for Jamal in the end. It's a wonderful film, full of the horrors and beauty of India simultaneously, and is a window into the growth of the middle class and the beginning of hope for those at the bottom. It's a favorite for the Best Picture Oscar, and I'd be surprised if it didn't win.