Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Saturday, February 27, 2021

Requiem for Nola

 

You came into our lives

At a time of great chaos 

And pain

And brought us great peace 

And joy.

Rescued from a life astray

Placed into my hands

"Here is your kitten"

And there you were 

Ours.

Instantly.

Love at first purr.

The sweetest thing.

Pure.

Innocent. 

Beautiful.  

Your mere presence 

Brought a level of comfort

And connectedness

We didn’t know existed.

Your first night with us

The first night of our new lives

You slept 

Curled on my chest.

Never would I have guessed

Less than a year later

You’d give your last breath

Curled on my chest.

For 9 months

Like a child

Growing inside a womb

You thrived and grew

Inside our bubble

Inside our hearts

Into more than a pet

A companion

Imbued with the best of us

A living symbol

An embodiment

Of our love.

A fatal virus took you from us

As a fatal virus takes so much

From us all.

A cruel irony.

A cruel reminder

Of the temporary

Ephemeral

Fleeting nature

Of existence.

Of beauty.


I hope we brought you

The comfort and peace 

In death

That you brought us 

In life.

I hope that in your tragically short life

We gave you the joy

The complete sense of contentment

And sanctuary

That you gave us.


It just doesnt make sense.

I dont want your life

To be some lesson

I just want to hold you

Bury my face in your soft

Warm fur

And feel the harsh

Cold world 

Fade away.

I want to watch you

Stretch your black-striped legs

With your snow white paws

Over Amy’s shoulder.

I still feel you when I wake up

Snuggled against my thigh.

But you’re just a dream now

Slipping away

As I reach for your soft fur.

Were you ever really here?

Did something so good

So pure

So innocent

So beautiful

Really exist in this world?

Can a pet mean so much

And have such an impact

In such a short time?

Maybe your life 

Was always 

Just a dream

And I just

Don’t want to 

Wake up.

At a time of great loss

A time of great distance

You brought us closer together

You filled a void

You helped us get by

In a year 

When so many 

Did not.

You made our new house a home

And made our lives whole.

My little buddy.

Her little girl.

Our baby. 


Sweet Nola.

You shined like the sunbeams

That you always found

That always found you

Because light attracts light

And your light was the brightest.

In its absence 

A profound darkness.

The void that you filled

Has returned

Grown deeper

And left us broken

Yet somehow 

More together 

Than ever

Because we experienced

Your life

Your light

Together

As one.

Your beautiful spirit lives on 

In us

More than a memory

A fiber of our being.

You were our heart

And in our hearts

You will always remain

Our sweet Nola. 

-

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

Monday, March 23, 2020

13 Things I Love about The Exorcist: A Perfect Supernatural Horror Movie



1. The pacing. Some might call it slow. Those people don’t understand movies. Those “slow” moments serve several purposes. They make the insane scenes more impactful. There has to be a story that properly leads up to the head spinning and projectile vomiting for those scenes to have an emotional impact beyond just disgust, something that more recent films seem to forget. Those scenes also help create an atmosphere by focusing on things like characters and setting.

2. The settings. It opens in a holy city in northern Iraq, and they really went to a holy city in northern Iraq to shoot a total of 15 minutes of screen time. The attention to details matter. They also filmed in actual buildings at Georgetown University (the author of the book, William Peter Blatty, went to Georgetown). Also, one of the priests in the movie is a real Jesuit priest. All of those details help create a sense of realism and a tangible sense of place. That matters.

3. The stairs. The Exorcist stairs at Georgetown walked so the Joker stairs in the Bronx could fly. Truly iconic. 

4. The music. The Exorcist theme song (a snippet from Tubular Bells) walked so the Halloween theme song could fly. Also iconic. 

5. The slow build. I’ll reiterate this: the pacing is so important. To start off, we see an old priest searching for something in Iraq. Why is he here? What does this have to do with anything? Why are the first words we hear in a movie about Christian exorcisms “allahu akbar,” part of a Muslim chant? Why are those damn dogs barking so viciously? We don’t know what the hell is going on and there’s a sense of mystery and uneasiness at all times. Then we head to America and spend some time meeting a mother and her little girl. We are told that the little girl is acting strangely and we see her going through this horrible medical procedure. Then we see her come downstairs during her mother’s dinner party and tell an astronaut, “you’re gonna die up there” right before she pees on the carpet. It’s at this point we know shit's gonna get wild. But everything so far (including this scene) has been very real, nothing supernatural yet, just hinting at it and setting the tone.

6. Skepticism. Questioning of faith. The main priest, Father Karras, is a caring, honest portrayal of a priest/psychologist who loses his mother and starts to lose his faith. That also adds to the uneasiness; this is a man who dedicated his life to god, yet he is having doubts. He especially has doubts about the reality of exorcisms. Watching now, I think this is one of the main reasons I was drawn to this movie as a teen. That’s when I started to question and eventually lose my faith. I don’t believe in exorcisms or even god, but I could relate to a man who questioned his faith and believed in science (that’s why I loved Scully in the X-Files...and Steven in Nacho Libre). I love stories about the supernatural and appreciate the idea of the supernatural, but I relate more to people who question its existence. The whole movie is an examination of the meaning of faith and the forces of good and evil, and while the film certainly creates a sense of surrealism, it is grounded in realism, from the real settings and people, to the real emotions the characters feel in the face of the supernatural.

7. The horrors of modern science. Regan undergoes an EEG and they stab a giant fucking needle in her throat and let blood squirt out onto her chest. Then her head is put in this old cat-scan-like machine that makes a loud knocking sound. It’s uncomfortable, distressing…it was the most disturbing part of the movie, and it had nothing to do with possessions. It was a completely realistic portrayal of a completely real procedure. Besides making your skin crawl, it also makes the audience empathize with this little girl even more than audiences normally empathize with children. It’s not like a lot of other evil child movies (like the awesome The Omen) where the kid is weird and creepy from the start. She’s a normal cute kid forced to go through this horrifying treatment. This is important once she starts flipping out. That too is something forced upon her, and like the priests do, we have to see her humanity even when she’s saying things like…

8. “Let Jesus fuck you!” Oh my gawd this line and scene. The first scene where the bed is knocking around is whatever. Then comes the scene where she starts flipping out, and it’s loud, and the voice is upsetting, and what this little girl is screaming is so vulgar, and the reactions from the adults are so pure…it’s just terrifying. Soon after that, she’s stabbing herself in the crotch with a crucifix and screaming “Let Jesus Fuck you” and putting her mother’s face in her bloody crotch. Jesus, man.

9. The spider crab walk. I watched the Director’s cut, which included possessed Regan crawling upside-down/backwards down the stairs. Friedkin cut this from the original, and it makes sense (he thought it appeared too early in the movie and he hadn't set the stage yet) but I’m glad he put it back in. In this version, she stops at the bottom of the stairs and pukes blood. In the original deleted scene, she continues crabwalking toward her mother and flicking her tongue out. I like both but kinda wish they kept that original scene in.

10. Directing style. There are several weird, unique camera angles. There is a lot of symbolism and symbols and images are flashed briefly on screen at times to increase the feeling of uneasiness. One of the most famous “flashes” is the face of a demon during the final exorcism. It’s even creepier because it’s a quick flash. You can miss it if you blink, and even if you see it, you question if it was really there.

11. Cinematography. There are some beautiful interior and exteriro shots. One of the most iconic shots is of Father Merrin arriving by taxi, then standing under the streetlight as fog surrounds him and he looks up at the window of Regan’s room. It’s a beautiful shot in and of itself, but it is also a mirror/callback to a shot from the opening scene, in which Father Merrin finds the statue of Pazuzu. The statue is on a rock, and Merrin faces off with it as the sun glares behind them and the heat creates a visible haze. That shot foreshadows the shot of him arriving at Regan’s and becomes even more powerful. Something evil is at work here.

12. The performances. Everyone here is great. Linda Blair came out of nowhere to make an everlasting mark on cinema. The puking and head spinning and swearing wouldn't be as effectively gross as they are without her performance. Her smirk is deliciously delirious. Ellen Burstyn proves she was killing the game long before she finally got her accolades with Requiem for a Dream. The main priest Father Karras was Stephen Miller, known more as a playwright, but he was perfect here. It helps that he studied at a Jesuit University. The old priest, Father Merrin, is played by a 44 year old Max von Sydow and his makeup is probably the worst part of the movie. But at the same time, he's meant to look old and beat up, and he certainly does.

13. Behind the scenes insanity. One of the guys working the EEG ended up murdering someone in real life. Linda Blair and Ellen Burstyn suffered back injuries because Friedkin insisted on actually tossing them around. Burstyn damaged her coccyx in the scene where Regan slaps her because she was actually tossed to the ground by a grown man, and her scream of pain is 100% real. She was not happy with Friedkin for using the actual scream, but…it works. The 70s, baby! There are so many other stories too, like the fact they had to take Linda Blair on a promotional tour to prove to people that she wasn’t really possessed (although that itself might have been a promotional tool). One of my favorite stories is that of the voice of the demon. Blair did a lot of the voice work, often distorted with vocal effects, but Mercedes McCambridge did the demon's voice. She was a semi-retired voice actress and recovering alcoholic. When she was offered the job, she consulted with her priest about it because she felt that she could easily embody a demon when she drank. So she jumped back on the wagon, got raging drunk, started chainsmoking because she thought it made her sound even worse, had guys strap her down and put a mic in front of here, and helped create history.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

Friday, January 10, 2020

The Last Grandparent

I never knew my grandfathers. One died before I was born, the other died shortly after. Luckily I had good relationships with my grandmothers, who lived into their 90s. But I was only 12 when my mom's mom died and 26 when my dad's mom died, so although I was lucky to have them in my life at all, I still feel like I didn't get enough time with them.

About 7 years ago, which was about 7 years after my last grandparent died, I received an unexpected gift: another grandmother. When my girlfriend Amy was sure enough about me to introduce me to the family, her own last grandparent, Pauline--Nani, immediately accepted me and loved me like only a grandmother can. I met her when she was in her late 80s, but with her short, grayish-white hair always perfectly permed, and a mind as sharp as her outfits, she looked and functioned like she was in her 60s. Whenever I saw her, she'd tell Amy and I how much she loved us and our relationship. It was always great to sit and chat with her, talking about her life growing up or about the trips Amy and I went on. Sometimes she'd complain about getting older but always with a wry sense of humor. Like many strong willed people, she seemed to resent the aging process, with the constant pain and not being able to function as she once did. Still, at 96, she was in incredible shape mentally and physically. But with that health came a sad irony: she outlived most of her family and friends. She never wallowed in despair, but she often acknowledged the loneliness she felt.

Despite the pain and loneliness of living for nearly an entire century, she seemed to relish her role as the family matriarch and she did her best to make it to every family function, where she'd always be the most highly revered guest, reminiscing with her kids and grandkids and playing with the greatgrandkids.

Recently she was diagnosed with lymphedema. Her time had come, and she was ready. Last week she began the process of entering hospice care, and early this week she passed away.

I was able to visit her a few days before she died. She was still herself, but her health was beginning to decline, and she becoming tired and a little confused. Morphine was also starting to have an effect on her capabilities, but at least it was taking her pain away. As she sat and talked with Amy and I, along with Amy's parents, we asked if she wanted lunch, knowing that it very well could be her last real meal. She looked at me and said, "You know what I want? A McDonald's cheeseburger."

So the 96 year old daughter of immigrants who grew up in Hell's Kitchen ate a McDonald's burger and fries for her last meal. I have never seen anything so American. I wanted to salute her and sing the National Anthem.

In all honesty, it was a perfect meal for the situation. Although I haven't eaten McDonald's in a while, it still reminds me of childhood, when a visit to McDonald's with the family was a special treat. McDonald's has gotten a bad rap over the years, and rightfully so. People eat it because it's quick and cheap, and it's undoubtedly contributed to the obesity epidemic, but it's an undeniable cultural marker and a part of most Americans' lives (maybe even most humans in general now). The meals can be very tasty, but I think we taste nostalgia more than the food itself. Food has the ability to bring us back to a specific time and place and emotion. The burger or chicken nugget is just a delivery system for joyful memories and feeling like a kid again. Nani didn't necessarily want a cheap burger, she wanted the memories of eating McDonald's with her family and friends throughout her life. It's called comfort food for a reason, and at this point, comfort was her number one priority.

I have many positive memories involving McDonald's, and now I can add one more very special memory to the list.

After eating, Nani made sure to tell us how much she loved Amy and I. She had also become somewhat close with my mom over the last few years, a bond formed by their battles with deteriorating health. She told me to give my mom her love and reminded me to always speak to my mom from my heart, a line so perfect it felt like dialogue from a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel.

She cried a bit, and it was clear she was afraid, but more than anything she was ready. I have never been so close to someone who knew they were dying soon. I know how emotional it was for me, so I can only imagine how it was for her. I don't think everyone has her strength in their final days. Having lived a good life helps with accepting death, I suppose. She had previously said that she was ready to die, but it was now an impending reality, and death is still the great unknown. Her mental capacities were working enough to know that death is scary regardless how prepared she was. But she was ready, and I only hope I can ever be as brave.

It's said that people often wait for "permission" from loved ones to finally let go; maybe that's the case, but she was not exactly the type to ask "permission." It felt more like she was satisfied with her life and ready for death, and she wanted her family to be ready as well. She waited for Christmas and the New Year (she made it 11 decades!). She waited until most family members saw her one last time, then she went on her own terms, surrounded by family. That's the best anyone can ask for, and it's what she deserved.

I only knew her for a few years, but I'm so grateful to have had her in my life. Everyone should get the opportunity to spend more time with a grandparent, especially one like her.

Goodbye, Nani, my last grandmother. You will be missed.



I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

Friday, January 26, 2018

A Coma for Christmas

A coma for Christmas
No hope for the New Year
A mom in the hospital
A son's greatest fear

Time comes for us all
That's no surprise
But that knowledge means nothing
When she can't open her eyes

Machines give her breath
When her body can not
Doctors, nurses, robots
The only chance that she's got

They say she can hear me
I don't know if it's true
Besides, don't they know
I just want to hear you?

Just talking or singing
Or laughing with cheer
I'll take you yelling at me
Just as long as you're here

Two long days later
No tube for your breath
Your eyes start to open
You will not take her, Death.

A few days later
You're awake, you're talking!
You've seen the other side
And told Death to keep walking

Yet death is just one
Of many possibilities
What is life without cognizance
Without control
With senility?

It could be the meds
Or it could be confusion
A temporary adjustment
Or permanent delusion

Sometimes you're right here
Sometimes you're in the past
Sometimes you're in your own land
How long will this last?

I want to be happy
That you are alive
I want to smile and be strong
To see you survive

But the problem is,
The fact of the matter,
Is that my heart is ripped out
Stomped on
Shattered

I'm barely holding it together
Because this is my worst fear
To see you living
But not really here

But each day there's progress
Not much, but its true
Because nobody on this planet
Is tougher than you

Except maybe Dad
I've never seen such love
He's got me believing
In angels from above

A tender kiss on the hand
A whisper in her ear
A gentle rub on the shoulder
To let her know that he's near

He's been through so much
But damned if he'll show it
Yet it takes a huge toll
And we all surely know it

Because we all feel it, too.

It's the saddest thing
That I've ever been through
A step forward one day,
The next?
Step back two

The one saving grace,
For which I'm so thankful
The strength of my family
And the friends in my circle

I can't imagine my life
Without those around me
The sadness and pain
Would honestly drown me

Her friends are there, too
It's amazing to see
The love that's been shown
Is overwhelming to me

One moment I'm inspired
The next crippled by fear
The one thing I know
I'm glad she's still here

Some days she's her self
Funny, caring and smart
Some days she's...not
And it just breaks my heart

But she's coming home soon
We're thankful for that
She'll be in her element
With Dad, the dog, the new cat

For 20 plus years
She's battled a disease
That eats at her brain
And there's only one release

But she's not going down
Without fighting like crazy
I hope I have the courage
When the time comes for me

I love you Mom
I love you Dad
I love you friends
I love you family
These are not just words
It's the truth that defines me.


I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Hate Doesn't Wear Hoods Anymore

Hate doesn't wear hoods anymore.

Hate wears polo shirts and khakis. 

Image result for charlottesville polo shirts

Hate says it is simply proud of its European ancestry, despite not knowing its ancestry

Hate equates Black Lives Matter with White Supremacy. 

Hate equates the KKK with Black Panthers. 

Hate says the confederate flag is just about southern heritage.

Hate claims reverse racism is a bigger problem than racism.

Hate says, "I just don't know why those people are always so mad."

Hate says, "they say that word all the time why can't I say it?"

After a terrorist attack, Hate says, "there is violence on many sides. Many sides."

Hate portrays itself as a victim.


Hate sits next to you in Algebra.

Hate sits next to you at the office.

Hate is in your family.

Hate wears a red cap.

And sometimes hate still wears the swastika. Fucking Nazis. 

Hate says "it's just a joke" when its views and claims are challenged.

Hate builds walls instead of bridges.

Hate hides right underneath the surface.

Hate isn't always easy to spot, yet

Hate can't be ignored.

Hate doesn't care that you take the high road.

Hate is fueled by the silence of good people.

Hate has never been properly confronted because many prioritize comfort over equality.

Hate is fueled by moderation.

Hate feeds off "negative peace, the absence of tension."

Hate refuses to seek "positive peace, the presence of justice."

Hate is more dangerous with a smile on its face.

Hate must be confronted in all its forms, from the literal Nazi, to the patient who refuses to see a doctor of color, to the boss who skips over Mohammed's resume but has "a lot of black friends."

Love trumps hate but Trump-inspired hate is a powerful force.

Hate necessitates aggressively peaceful, loving actions.

Show love. Speak love. Teach love.

But remember: Hate is not defeated with platitudes.

Support the oppressed, the persecuted, the tired, the poor.

Hate has always existed and will always exist, but

Hate can be made weak and irrelevant.

Hate can be shamed.


Hate should be shamed.

And we should be ashamed if we let Hate prosper.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

The Parents

The year was 1968...

North Vietnam launches the Tet offensive, the beginning of the end for the US in Vietnam. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy are assassinated. Apollo 8 becomes the first manned spacecraft to orbit the moon.

And possibly the most important event of all: the union of Ken Elterich and Marie Farr. 




Although this event went largely unnoticed by the general public, it set off a chain of events that would change world history, most notably, 12 years later when their youngest son was born.


Hello.

I grew up extremely privileged. I don’t necessarily mean economically, although my family was firmly in the middle class and I never really wanted for anything. The biggest privilege in my life, beyond a financial safety net that I can still rely on if necessary, is that I never had to look far for role models. I didn’t have to figure out how to treat others or respect myself, I didn’t have to be told by frustrated employers how to work hard, and I didn’t have to learn how to take pleasure in the joys of life; I was shown all of that from day one. Even before I knew what a role model was, I was provided with two incredible models of virtue.

Growing up I always considered my mom and dad as one unit: “The Parents.” That was the entirety of their identity to me. That is probably typical for kids, but it also reflected their relationship. They had their own interests and participated in separate activities (golf for my dad, ceramics for my mom, etc.) yet they acted as one when it came to everything else. They were a unified force, which didn’t exactly help me whenever I messed up. I knew I was dealing with the tag team. There was no playing one against the other. My only hope was to try to put some of the blame on my brother.

As I got older, I appreciated them more as individuals. My mom the teacher, my dad the…well, whatever he did for work (Joking. Kinda.) Beyond being a good employee/boss, he was also a coach and a good friend. Both of my parents were good friends, not just to each other, but to many people. That is one of the things I’m most grateful for: learning how to treat people.

When I was a senior in high school, I agreed to go to my friend’s prom with his girlfriend’s best friend. A week later, I started dating someone. I wanted out of my friend’s prom. My mom, without forcing a decision on me, told me that it would not be right to back out of a promise I made just because “something better came along.” She didn’t lecture me, she just said how it would make the other girl feel (I knew she was onto something when my girlfriend actually understood as I explained why I was going to prom with someone else). My mom was good at instilling guilt. In fact, both of my parents were. When I got in trouble, they always said they weren't mad, just disappointed. Ugh. How could I express righteous indignation at their treatment of me if they didn’t get mad? If they yelled and screamed, I could’ve just raged against them and felt better about myself because obviously I didn’t deserve their anger. But disappointment? There’s no response to that, except to do better.

Obviously, as a teen, there were times when I wasn’t too fond of my parent’s decisions, like moving to West Hartford, but ultimately I recognized that every decision was made in the best interest of me, my brother, and/or the whole family. I clearly got a better education in West Hartford than I would have in Hartford.

Besides the typical teen angst, though, I always saw my parents as infallible. I may have acted as if I didn't want to hear what they had to say, but that's because I knew they were right about whatever they were telling me and I would have to change my behavior.

They always did the right thing. They always seemed to be on the right side of any social issues. They traveled and worked and spent quality time with family and friends. They lived life, and continue to live it, how it is supposed to be lived.

When my mom was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. I couldn’t accept that my mom was going to be affected by this horrible disease. Not her. Not the woman who spent her life teaching special education in the inner city in the 90s. She didn't deserve this, and she was too strong for this. My grandmother had a friend who had Parkinson’s and I just couldn’t imagine her as frail as he was. I was scared, and I think I’ve been scared ever since.

But not her. At least, not on the surface. It's like nothing changed. She’s been on more vacations this year than I’ve been on this decade. She is too strong for this.

And my dad has been right there with her. I don’t know how he does it. I don’t think I could do it. I can barely handle it as is. I am overwhelmed by their strength.

49 years later, they are stronger than ever, as a couple and as individuals.



It's inspiring. And a little upsetting, too, because seriously? How can I live up to that? Come on.

My mom just got surgery on her spine. For the first time possibly ever, she admitted to being in a lot of pain. And for the first time definitely ever, she seemed scared. Maybe I’m projecting. Probably.

Despite any reservations, she went ahead with the surgery. A friend told her she was courageous, and she just replied, “It’s not courage, I just want the pain to go away.” She’d never acknowledge that she is extraordinary, because to her, her actions are ordinary. There’s a problem, it needs to be solved. That’s how she, and my father, have always been. There’s nothing else to do but deal with it.

What's the other option? Be crippled by pain? Curl up and die? No. Handle it. Get the surgery to fix the back. Take the experimental Parkinson's medicine that may not even help you but might make a breakthrough that could help thousands of others. Fear is just another emotion like happiness. It’s okay to be afraid, just don't let it stop you from moving forward.

I write this knowing full well that I’m afraid and not dealing with it very well. But sometimes faking it till you make it is the best thing you can do. Worrying doesn't accomplish anything. Things will happen or they won't. Move forward.

49 years together. More than a decade longer than I've been alive. The Parents. Mr. and Mrs. Incredible, except their only superpower is love. 


UPDATE 6/27/17, 5:55pm: My mom is in Recovery and doing well.

I Love You All, Especially "The Parents"...Class Dismissed.