The Many Faces of Heroism

Superhero movies have become a dominant fixture of American culture in the past 20 years. As the world makes less and less sense, and as the dangers in the world take on more and more complex forms, we tend to look for simple solutions and heroes who can punch the evil away. Iron Man can defeat terrorists and aliens with his incredible technology! Captain America can defeat Nazis and aliens with his pure heart, incredible courage, and steroids! The Hulk can smash evil Norse gods and aliens with his bare hands! If only life were so simple. At least we don't have aliens. 

Instead, we have invisible viruses. We have degenerative diseases. We have systemic racism. And although our technology has reached an almost miraculous level, we haven’t found the solution to these problems, and no matter how much we hope for it, the Hulk isn’t coming to smash them away. 

In real life, heroism doesn’t look like The Avengers. Sure, sometimes a person does a heroic act like pulling a baby out of a burning building or taking down a mass shooter before he can kill more. But for the most part, in real life, heroic acts are smaller gestures that express the beauty and the intense goodness that exist within life all around us, coexisting with all the ugliness and negativity. Extending a helping hand, supporting a friend in need, speaking out for those with no voice, pushing on in the face of adversity. These heroic acts often aren’t considered heroic. Maybe they aren't equivalent to saving the entire planet from destruction, but they are real, human moments of heroism in the face of the most uncaring, inescapable, undefeated villain the real world has to offer: death.

Unfortunately, that villain got its sickly paws on Chadwick Boseman, who became a literal superhero, the Black Panther, and helped ignite a worldwide phenomenon. All while battling colon cancer. It is almost inconceivable to think of what he accomplished after getting the diagnosis, receiving chemo treatments, and ultimately knowing he would soon die. 

It’s honestly so inconceivable that it moves beyond inspirational. Nobody should feel like they need to accomplish so much while going through something like that. It's ok to rest! The fact that he did what he did is commendable and amazing, but too often we use the unique, incredible accomplishments of one person to shame others. If he was the Black Panther and made Avengers Infinity War and End Game and did all the red carpet appearances and interviews and met with sick kids and loved his family and gave black people around the world a moment of happiness and gave black children representation in an area where it was severely lacking, all while fighting cancer...HOW DARE YOU TAKE A DAY OFF FROM WORK BECAUSE YOU’VE GOT THE SNIFFLES! How dare you feel sorry for yourself even for one second just because you have a disease or disability! 

As a culture and society, we feel pressure to not only praise this great man for doing great things in the face of adversity, we have to use his death as a lesson. We often call people living with deadly diseases "heroes," and rightly so, but sometimes it seems like that we do it just to make ourselves feel better. To ease our own fears. We don’t want cancer, so someone who has it and perseveres is a hero. But we don’t truly consider what that means or what that person is actually going through. They're not even their own person anymore, they become a character in a story. They’re not a regular person with everyday issues and fears: they are CANCER WARRIORS! 

There is good intent behind this characterization. People fighting cancer are fighting a heroic battle, to save their very lives. They should be praised. But this characterization can dehumanize people, or glorify people at the expense of others. This person won his battle against cancer! Well, this other person lost his battle against cancer. Does that mean one was stronger than the other? Did one simply fight harder? Maybe both fought equally as hard, but one had better treatment. Maybe the one who died actually fought harder. Maybe it was all just pure, shitty luck. 

Chadwick Boseman didn't "lose" a battle against cancer. He died from a horrible disease. And before that, he lived as well as he could. But not everyone can do what Chadwick Boseman did--embody the literal role of a superhero and inspire millions of people across the globe while fighting cancer--and they shouldn't feel bad about it. Courage looks different on each person depending on their circumstances. Heroism looks different on different people. For some people, simply getting out of the house is heroic. 

Recently, my mom went into the hospital. She’s been in and out (mostly out, thankfully) for the past 2.5 years. Parkinson's and Parkinson's related dementia has taken its toll on her (and us) but once again, it has not broken her. After being in there for about a week, with no visitors allowed, she came home and was ready to live. It was her 75th birthday a few days after she got home, and she insisted on going out to eat. Every time she has gotten out of the hospital, she has wanted to go out soon after. She is more willing and less hesitant than me. I can't help thinking of everything that can go wrong, whether it’s a good idea, what about Covid or this or that…but she's adamant. She wants to go out. So we put our masks on and ate on an outside patio.

Through it all, she hasn’t given up on life. There are probably moments when she wants to. Just like in the superhero movies, there's always a moment when the hero is ready to call it quits. They are defeated. They are exhausted. Batman retires and hangs up the cape. The Black Panther gets tossed over a cliff and falls into a coma.

There are moments when we all want to give up. And some people do. That's not a sign of weakness. There's only so much pain and anguish one can bear. Honestly, sometimes giving up is a rational response. 

And that’s exactly why not giving up is so heroic. Life is fucking hard! Those who keep going in the face of adversity and death are so admirable because it's not a logical, rational response. You're going to die anyways, why fight it? 

Because what else is there? Life is fighting death. That’s the whole thing! 

In Boseman's situation, a rational response to finding out he had colon cancer would have been to stop working. Stop visiting sick kids. Stop doing talk shows and meeting fans. At the very least, tell people why you’re losing weight and looking frail so you don't get attacked on social media! Instead, he just took it all upon himself. He didn’t want people feeling sorry for him, or just didn’t want the parasitic entertainment industry sucking his life dry for “heartwarming” interviews. Maybe he was just a private person, but I truly think he understood that he had become a symbol, and he wanted to represent a sense of power and nobility and grace, and joy, without the element of pity. 

People thought he looked tired doing the Wakanda Forever pose for everyone who requested it, but maybe that was the only thing keeping him going. 

He didn’t ask for pity or praise for dealing with his sickness. My mom never has, either. (My dad hasn't either, for that matter, and what he does on the daily basis is heroic, too.) All she wants is to feel normal. To live her life without the crushing weight of her disease, even for a few moments. 

So she asked us to take her out to dinner.

And yes, in the face of Parkinson’s and dementia and Covid, that is heroic as hell. 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

13 Things I Love about There Will Be Blood

1. Daniel Day Lewis, duh. Somehow he topped his performance from Gangs of New York. This is what they call a “powerhouse” performance. One for the ages. What a beast. His character, Daniel Plainview, is an absolute monster. It’s amazing to watch but he is a legendary asshole. He is a hard man living a hard life. In the opening scene, he is looking for gold and silver by himself in a deep mine. A hole, really. Since this was long before safety requirements, he falls down the hole and breaks his leg. When he wakes up, he has to pull himself up on a rope. It’s an excruciating few minutes. That’s our introduction to him: a man willing to risk life and limb for his business. For the rest of the movie, he has an awkward limp, which makes him somehow even more intimidating.

2. For me, this will always be connected to No Country for Old Men. They came out the same year and competed for a bunch of awards. More than that, I watched them within a week of each other, and they have a similar feel. They take place out West, the central focus is a powerful, terrifying, villainous character portrayed by an incredible actor, they are directed by legends, and they both share a dark, world-weary tone. I was a little upset that No Country won the Oscar for best movie, best Director and best Screenplay, but I probably would have been upset if this won and that lost. Both movies deserved all those awards. Daniel Day Lewis got best actor so they got that right no question. Regardless, these are two great movies to have mentally connected.

3. Intensity. Obviously, Daniel Day Lewis is intense. He’s a stone man made of pure fury. But it’s more than just his performance. It’s a good story and cool, sometimes even shocking things happen, but it’s not exactly an action movie. It’s also long. And yet, every moment is riveting. Between Daniel breaking his leg in the opening, and when the pipe lands on the guy’s head with a sickening thud, there’s a sense of impending doom that doesn’t ever leave your gut. Every element of the movie comes together in unison to create a sense of urgency. The constant, almost piercing music, the cinematography, the realistically portrayed dangers of the job, Daniel’s performance, all combine for a mesmerizing work of art.

4. Cinematography. This deserves a big screen viewing. It’s a beautiful film about rugged men doing dirty work. There are extended shots of the landscape, with the beautiful mountains and plains of early 20th century California, interrupted only by newly built oil wells. The shots inside the wells are great as well (ha). They are claustrophobic and dark as opposed to the shots of the open landscape. Everything looks crystal clear and sharp and feels authentic. It is a perfectly crafted visual world that sets the foundation for Daniel Day Lewis to do his thing and helps draw the audience in to the characters and story. Like any great movie, the camera transports the viewers to the time and place depicted in the story.

5. Music and sound. Tense music plays almost throughout the whole move. It’s just constant, eerie, high pitched strings, all the time. He’ll be drilling for oil or making a business deal or getting off the train, and you’re on the edge of your seat because the music is a continuous crescendo, serving to heighten the true danger and insidiousness of it all. Because it’s the oil business; it was and is incredibly insidious.
Sound is a really important and cool element of the film, too. The sound of the oil pump. The train’s whistle. The men screaming. Daniel and Eli’s booming voices. Wind on the plain. Then there’s the lack of sound after the boy’s accident. Again, it all works to put the audience in the characters’ shoes. The kid can’t hear, so for a few moments we can’t hear, either. Then, when we can hear again, the sounds are intensified.

6. Fatherhood. The relationship between Daniel and the child, HW, is the heart of the movie. That’s why the ending feels like ripping out a beating heart.
After a man dies when a machine part falls on his head—because again, this was early 20th century—Daniel adopts the man’s infant son. He was in the well with the guy at the time of his death, and it was his well, so he likely feels guilty. At this point, he seems to still have feelings for other humans and genuinely cares for the kid. However, whether or not it was always his intent from the beginning, he essentially uses HW to grow his company. The “family man” angle helps him close deals.
After HW goes deaf, the relationship between him and Daniel starts to fray. Daniel doesn’t have time to learn sign language and teach HW, which frustrates and angers the boy. The budding relationship between Daniel and his “brother” Henry doesn’t help, either. One night, HW lights a fire in their cabin as Daniel and Henry sleep. Daniel wakes up and chases him. The lighting of the fire, Daniel chasing HW, and then carrying him back to the cabin, is all done in essentially one long tracking shot, and I can’t stress enough how much that contributes to the intensity of the film. Daniel then sends HW away to a school for the deaf. He can’t take care of him and run the business efficiently. He never admits it, but this affects him greatly.
At the end of the movie, it is sixteen years later in 1927, and HW is getting married to his childhood friend, Mary. HW visits Daniel’s office and tells him they’re moving to Mexico. HW wants to open his own oil company. Daniel gets angry and tells him that he has become competition. He calls HW a “bastard from a basket” and mockingly explains his true origins. It is cruel. It is brutal and heartbreaking, and it completes Daniel’s evolution into full villain. Once HW leaves, Daniel gets fall down drunk and flashes back to all the times they shared. He is clearly distraught. He chased away the one person that loved him.
There’s also the relationship between Eli and his father. Eli has contempt for his father for “selling out” to Daniel (even though that’s literally what Eli did). After Daniel beats Eli, Eli beats his father. But we can’t feel too bad for the father, because it was revealed earlier that he beat Mary, Eli’s sister and HW’s eventual wife. At one point, Daniel threatens the man if he continues. After that, Mary clearly looks to Daniel as a father figure, which makes his attack on HW at the end even more heartbreaking.

7. Brotherhood. This is another one of the several themes in the film, and it is manifested in two sets of people, yet only three actors. Paul Dano plays twin brothers, Paul and Eli. The brothers clearly don’t care much for each other and they are never seen together (which also leads to some mystery about whether Paul really exists. He does). Paul goes to Daniel to propose an offer for his family’s land, which he claims has oil under it. They make a deal and Daniel heads to the land with HW. They meet Paul’s father and twin brother, Eli, who knows what they’re up to and wants in on the profits. Ultimately, Eli wants funding for the church he’s starting. Later, Daniel uses Eli’s frayed relationship with his brother against him to insult him further.
About midway through the movie, a man claiming to be Daniel’s half-brother (brother from another mother) Henry shows up. Daniel doesn’t trust him at first but eventually they get close, which hurts HW’s feelings. When Daniel sends HW away, Daniel and Henry start running the business together, and Daniel even opens up to his brother a bit. He says, “I see the worst in people. I can’t keep doing this on my own with these ...people” and then gives this sinister laugh. Daniel is even scarier when he’s in touch with his feelings.
Ironically, Daniel didn’t see the worst in Henry and regrets it later. Actually, Henry regrets it because Daniel can’t forgive the dishonesty and murders him. Daniel is not his fake brother’s keeper.

8. The intersection of Capitalism and Religion and the evils of both. This takes place during the Industrial Revolution and we see the cutthroat nature of the oil and railroad industries. The business men are in nice suits and talk in polite, civil tones, but they are still evil. Daniel is just more honest and open with his ruthlessness. He accuses Standard Oil of owning the railroads, and he’s not wrong. Far from the benevolent “job creators” that these “captains of industry” are generally portrayed to be, they are ruthless businessmen who don’t care about their workers or the common man. They are monopolizing two industries, both of which are literally deadly. Rail workers didn’t exactly get insurance. And oil workers had it worse. Daniel breaks his leg. 2 guys die. HW goes deaf. The oil industry involves lots of machinery and lots of big holes with lots of bad things happening in them. Capitalism is portrayed as the brutal, uncaring system it is.
Religion doesn’t come off much better. We see how the two intersect to maintain a system of inequity. Daniel is incredibly (and hilariously) uncomfortable with religion. At certain points, he’s amused by it, other times he’s disgusted by it. He has open contempt for Eli and it is great. However, even before Eli opens his church, Daniel sees the benefit of placating the religious. Wherever he drills, he donates to or helps build churches for the towns. He understands the sense of community it builds and that it keeps the workers happy. On the other side, the churches need the oil money to build and to stay open. When Daniel starts drilling near Eli’s family’s land, they build a temporary tent city near the new oil derricks. Eli tries to and successfully converts the oil workers. Later, Daniel has to concede power and stature to Eli and the church to get what he wants for his business. And of course, Eli then humiliates himself to try to get money for his church from Daniel. Whether it’s in the name of Business or the name of God, the ethics involved are the same: Anything for a buck.

9. Direction. I’m a huge PT Anderson fan. Boogie Nights is classic. Magnolia is one of my favorite movies and one which I can honestly apply the phrase “It changed my life.”
There are like ten scenes in this movie. There are no jump cuts to catch our attention, there are mostly long, uninterrupted tracking shots. We get one continuous perspective of the scene, and that makes the audience feel a part of the action. We see things unfolding as if we are there watching it. Also, the pacing is perfect. There is absolutely no filler. Everything is vital to the story or to character development. There are long, important conversations, followed by quick, brief action sequences, then silent moments focused on something subtle, like the intensity of Daniel’s face. It all serves to keep our attention without any gimmicks.
There are so many powerful, perfectly crafted scenes. One of my favorites is when HW loses his hearing. One of Daniel’s wells strikes oil, and it shoots up violently into the sky. HW is standing on the derrick and gets blasted by the force. The oil is shooting up uncontrollably and it catches fire, so there’s a giant column of oil and fire and smoke, while HW lays almost unconscious near it. This crazy, trippy music starts, as one of the workers rushes to tell Daniel what happened. He starts running toward the derrick, and the camera runs parallel to him. It’s a long, beautiful shot of him running; it’s daytime and the Southern California scenery is moving behind him as he remains in the center of the camera. We see all the other workers frantically running behind him, too. Daniel finally reaches the derrick. HW is deaf. Daniel grabs him, brings him down, and runs all the way back to his cabin with HW in his arms. He sets the boy down and gets back to work. He runs back to the derricks. He starts chopping down the cords that prop up the wooden beams. The men are at work for hours, and the background turns from sunny day to dark night. The fire lights up the pitch black sky as the men continue to fight it. When the derrick falls and they finally contain it, Daniel lets out a smile. They just struck it rich. One of his coworkers asks if the boy will be all right. “No, no he will not,” replies Daniel, stone faced. It’s a big, beautiful, elaborate, emotional, intense scene, and it’s fucking amazing.
In another scene, PT Anderson shows how important subtlety and imagery is to telling a powerful story. After HW is sent away, and after Daniel spends some alone time with his “brother,” he starts contemplating his situation. He is at the beach with Henry. We see them enjoying the clear blue water. Then the camera focuses on Daniel. He is floating in the ocean, we see his head above the water, and his body below the water. He is divided, conflicted. Again, this loud, suspenseful music plays. His dark eyes and his mouth and the distorted view of him and the music make it all feel so sinister. This is supposed to be a celebration! They just made a huge sale! But Daniel isn’t exactly a celebratory kinda guy. He’s also suspicious of Henry because his story is not adding up. After the relaxing day at the beach, Henry wakes up to Daniel with a gun in his face. He knows Henry is not really his brother. He confronts him and finally gets the truth. It seems like he’s contemplating his options, but Daniel goes with the only solution he ever really considered: he shoots him and buries him. Cue the orchestral strings.

10. Subtlety. In addition to Anderson’s expertise and ability to balance the subtle with the elaborate, the actors have the same ability. Before Daniel opens the new oil derrick on Eli’s family’s land, Eli asks to address the people and bless the derrick. Daniel initially agrees, but only to get the deal done and get Eli out of his face. At the opening, Daniel addresses the crowd, and then calls up Eli’s sister, little Mary, to help him bless the derrick. Eli looks on in silent rage. Daniel doesn’t even acknowledge him but he knows exactly what he’s doing. Later, another oil worker dies when a machine part falls on his head (no subtlety there). Eli then visits Daniel and mentions that the guy might not have died if Daniel let him do the blessing. Eli is now subtly jabbing Daniel for his actions, playing on his guilt.
There’s also one scene where Daniel is talking to guys from Standard Oil. He brags about the 3 wells he has, and the way he holds up his 3 fingers and says, “3” is just so perfect and hilarious and menacing. There are so many small moments like that.

11. Over the top ridiculousness. That sounds negative, but I mean it in the best way. When he’s not making small gestures loaded with meaning, Daniel is losing his shit. Honestly, Daniel Day Lewis probably does the best job of mixing subtle with over the top acting that I’ve ever seen. He yells and rages better than anyone, and he also expresses an entire spectrum of emotion with just one eye brow better than anyone. Paul Dano is no slouch, either. Working opposite Daniel could not have been easy, especially for such a young actor. He plays Eli as a mostly sniveling little weasel, albeit one who stands up to Daniel occasionally, but he also breaks into these fiery sermons. He is Pat Robertson on meth. Both he and Daniel have numerous memorable lines, some of which are utterly ridiculous on the face of it, but with their masterful deliveries, the ridiculous lines work. When Eli is preaching, he starts screaming and shaking and sliding around the church. He is screaming at the devil, saying “as long as I have teeth, I will bite you! And if I have no teeth, I will gum you!” What? That’s objectively absurd, but it is meant to show how absurd Eli is, and it succeeds. Anyone in their right mind would not take this guy seriously, and only Daniel seems to understand that. Of course, Daniel has his own ridiculous streak. When he breaks the unfortunate news to Eli that the oil Eli thinks will make him rich is gone, he utters the infamous line, “I drink your milkshake. I drink it up!” It’s silly and ridiculous, but Daniel gives this elaborate production explaining drilling techniques to Eli that really sells the line and turns it into a cruel taunt. The line makes no sense outside of this particular scene, and yet it became a common phrase, splashed across t-shirts and referenced in pop culture endlessly. That’s a damn good line. Even though it’s ridiculous. Or because it’s ridiculous? Either way, it doesn’t matter. It sticks with you, largely because of Daniel’s delivery.

12. Insults. Daniel is a piece of shit, but man, he has the best insults. After HW’s accident and the other oil worker’s death, Eli publicly confronts Daniel about money owed to him. Daniel bitch slaps the shit out of him and knock him to the ground. Then he pulls him by the hair through the mud. Eli is screaming the whole time. Daniel pins him down and sits on his chest. “Can’t you make my son hear again? Aren’t you a healer.” He keeps slapping him. Then he fills Eli’s mouth with mud and tells him, “I’m gonna bury you underground Eli. I’m gonna bury you underground.” I hate to cheer for a bully, but it’s fantastic.
When he is at a business meeting, Standard Oil offers to buy him out. They tell him they’ll make him a millionaire. He asks, “What would I do with myself?” And one replies, “Take care of your son?” That doesn’t go over well. They mention his boy a couple other times, and he’s not having it. This is right after he sent HW away, so he’s a little sensitive. He says, “Did you just tell me how to run my family?” Then he casually tells the guy, “One night, I'm gonna come to you, inside of your house, wherever you're sleeping, and I'm gonna cut your throat.” Jesus.
After HW comes back, Daniel takes him to lunch and runs into the same guy from Standard Oil. He puts a napkin over his face so HW doesn’t know what he’s saying (or because he’s insane) and starts yelling at the guy, bragging about a deal he just made. Then he walks over to the table and asks the guy if he sees his son. “I’m taking care of him now so…you look like a fool, don’t you?” The guy seems to not really know what the hell is going on, but he knows he’s getting chumped. He replies, “Yes.” Daniel excuses himself, drinks the guy’s whiskey, and walks away. Mic drop.
But the absolute best insults are saved for Eli. The bitch slapping scene is great, but the final scene is the stuff legends are made of. Besides the “milkshake” line, every line in the scene is perfect. After getting Eli to humiliate himself, he twists the knife. He tells him, “Your brother was the real prophet” because Paul was the one that first came to Daniel. He says, “you’re just the afterbirth, Eli.” Damn! “You slithered out of your mother’s filth. They should have put you in a glass jar on a mantelpiece.” Fuck! “Where were you when Paul was suckling at his mother's teat? Where were you? Who was nursing you, poor Eli? One of Bandy's sows?” Shit! Just devastating. Then he explains that he has already taken the oil. “Drainage! Drainage, Eli, you boy.” The only thing Daniel is better at than running an oil company and ruining his own personal life is ruining Eli’s life.

13. Parallelism. The themes of brotherhood and fatherhood are paralleled between characters. The themes of capitalism and religion parallel each other. And more specifically, two of the best scenes parallel each other in many ways. They are incredible scenes on their own, but the combination….*chef’s kiss*.
After Daniel kills and buries Henry, he wakes up to see William Bandy, the owner of the one piece of land he hadn’t purchased yet. Daniel wants to build a pipeline through his land. Bandy agrees, if Daniel agrees to be baptized.
Of course, it’s Eli that will baptize him. Eli savors the opportunity and puts on a big show. He really gets into it because he knows Daniel hates it. Eli has finally won. He calls Daniel a sinner. He tells him to get on his knees and accept Jesus. Daniel reluctantly does everything he is told. It’s a really special scene, with two actors at their best. It’s a beautifully shot scene, too. The clean, almost shiny wood of the pews and the bright white background frame the action. Eli tells Daniel to repeat everything he says, and Daniel does, but when he gets to “I have abandoned my child,” it’s too much. Daniel pauses and stutters, but he says it. Again and again, until it feels as if Daniel is no longer just placating Eli. He feels intense guilt for sending HW away. He yells out “I am a sinner. I want the blood…I’ve abandoned my child.” As Eli delays the baptism, drawing out the discomfort, Daniel gets impatient. “Give me the blood lord,” he snaps. Eli slaps him across the face. Daniel smirks and asks for more. The scene is out of control. The holy spirit has taken the wheel. The priest pours water over Daniel. He smirks and mutters, “There’s a pipeline.” Anything. For. A. Buck. He stands and shakes Eli’s hand, staring him down. He walks back to his pew and the whole crowd loves him. Little Mary runs over and hugs him.
Sixteen years later, after Daniel has built an empire but destroyed his relationship with his son, he is passed out in his own bowling alley. It is a similar setting as the church, with the clean, shiny wood of the lanes and the white walls framing the action. He wakes up to find Eli, who tells him that Mr Bandy is dead, and Eli has the rights to his property. Bandy’s son and Eli want Daniel to drill the land for them. Daniel says he’ll do it if Eli admits he’s a false prophet and that god is a superstition. Eli is disgusted by the suggestion but quickly gives in for a shot at making some money because he’s in serious debt. Daniel makes him say it over and over. He tells Eli to say it like one of his sermons. Put his heart into it. After Eli really lets it rip and denounces his life’s work and entire belief system, Daniel tells him the land is worthless because he already took the oil underneath it. He drank Eli’s milkshake. He drank it up! Daniel has proven the fraudulent nature of religion and the dominance of cutthroat capitalism. Eli is defeated, but it’s not good enough for Daniel. He throws bowling balls and pins at Eli and chases him around, eventually “baptizing” him on the head with a pin. He wins again. Capitalism wins. But at what cost? Religion may be a fraud, but what does capitalism offer instead? Death, destruction, the obliteration of family, loneliness.
The butler calls out, “Mr. Daniel?” And Daniel, sitting on the floor next to the body of the man he just murdered, replies, “I’m finished.” Classic closing line to a classic movie.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

13 Things I Love about Elf

1. It’s the greatest Christmas movie of the 21st Century. One of the few original, modern day Christmas legends.

2. Buddy the Elf. Most people love him but do we really appreciate the unique sensation that is Buddy the MFing Elf? Think about it; this created a whole new Christmas character and mythos. It’s like the 21st Century equivalent of creating Rudolph or the Grinch or Frosty the Snowman. It hadn’t happened since, what? The Nightmare Before Christmas with Jack Skellington? Most new Christmas movies are just rehashes of older classics (Christmas Carol/Grinch) or basic “families spending time together and finding the meaning of Christmas” movies. Elf is a modern fairy tale. There are Buddy the Elf dolls and costumes. There’s an Elf musical. There’s no Fred Claus musical. Love Actually doesn’t have a children’s book. Bad Santa isn’t even a new character, he’s just a typical mall Santa with a slightly worse alcohol problem (plus Bad Santa sucks after the first viewing). Buddy the Elf is a phenomenon, a milestone of 21st Century pop culture, a newly created icon that people of all ages and races can and will enjoy for holiday seasons to come.

3. Will Ferrell. Ferrell’s awkward sincerity is perfect for the role and it’s in its most perfect form here. Ferrell is very hit or miss. When he’s on, and when his character and the story are well developed, he is one of the funniest people in the world. And then there are movies like Bewitched or Sherlock and Watson. This character was seemingly made directly from the best of his DNA and he completely engulfs the role. When the boss at the department store says that Santa is coming and he yells out, “Santa!! I know him!” it is so pure and genuine it could make a stone smile. It’s so silly (kinda stupid, even) but he is so sincere and the character is made of such pure happiness and joy, that it all comes together to create a sense of childlike whimsy.

4. Whimsy. The best word to describe the movie is whimsical. And it’s the best part about the movie. It is very silly. It is very clever, with sharp line after sharper line. The dialogue, the characters, the scenes, everything is memorable in the best ways. But more than anything, every moment in the film is filled with the intent of bringing joy. It’s truly like watching a movie in a sea of swirly twirly gum drops. Elf, the character and the movie, just want to make everybody happy. That is their entire purpose, and they knock it out of the candy cane forest.

5. Heartwarming. Like any good Christmas movie, it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There are heartwarming moments between Buddy and his two father figures, heartwarming scenes between Buddy and the kid, between James Caan and the kid, between Buddy and Zooey, even between Buddy and Mr. Narwhal.

6. Mr. Narwhal. The Penguin. Leon the Snowman. Such great characters and they only appear for a few minutes. But that opening scene is so important in setting that whimsical tone. Every moment, every character, is intentionally fun and quirky.

7. Scenery and costumes. Right off we’re not supposed to take anything too seriously. Even the credits sequence is silly. We are in the North Pole, but it’s clearly a set and there are what look like cut out paper snowflakes falling. It feels like the inside of a snow globe. Then we see a Jazz Snowman and other cartoon characters. It’s like Elf was born from the classic Christmas cartoon specials of the 60s, but then he travels to the real world and grows up to be a real human. He’s a Christmas Pinocchio. The Elf house at the North Pole is great, too, all the grey wood makes all the elves’ colorful costumes pop. Then Buddy creates his own Winter Wonderland at home and the department store. Again, that’s the whole movie: Will Ferrell making everything more fun and carefree.

8. Music. The soundtrack is great, so many Christmas bangers, but more than that, music is a main element of the story. It’s how Buddy introduces himself to his biological dad (a singing telegram). It’s how he gets closer with Zooey (Baby It’s Cold Outside duet in the bathroom). And of course it’s a mantra of Santa’s elves: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.” Such a great line and ethos, and I love how they connect back to it at the climax with Zooey leading everybody singing in the street. It also shows that sometimes you gotta force the Christmas Spirit. Maybe you're not feeling it. Maybe stuff has got you down. But the beauty of this time of year is that we as a society, for many many years, have forced the joy upon each other. Get people gifts. Visit family and friends. Sing songs. Listen to joyful songs endlessly, maybe even too much. Humans have known since we have existed that this time of year needs some respite and forced joy or we wont make it through. And if you do force it, it starts to become natural. Like how forcing a smile leads to a real smile.

9. References to Other Classics. The first and most obvious is the original Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The opening scenes in the North Pole are a direct ode to that movie and that style of animation. There are the elves (one who feels out of place) and Santa’s workshop and the talking snowman and the singing woodland creatures. It’s a tribute to the classic but it also enhances the fish out of water aspect. When Buddy gets to Central Park and tries to pet the raccoon, he (and we) realize these aren’t the same woodland creatures from the North Pole. Then there are the references to Miracle on 34th Street. The main reference is that he works at Gimbels, Macy’s main competition in Miracle (the fact that a main setting is a department store is a reference in itself. Then there’s the mail room scene. Buddy makes friends with all the workers, which eventually makes him closer with his dad, and Kris Kringle is saved by the mailroom workers in Miracle. When Buddy cuts all the snowflakes it looks like Edward Scissorhands (another great Christmas movie). Then there’s the scene of Buddy on the bridge feeling dejected, a clear reference to the godawful It’s a Wonderful Life. Lastly, and the only knock against the movie, is the similarity to The Santa Clause. The ending of Elf, with Santa in his sleigh getting chased through a park and relying on people’s belief in him to fly, is a lot like the ending in the original The Santa Clause (a good Christmas movie). It’s fine, and it works for Elf, but…watch both and tell me they’re not extremely similar.

10. Lines. Brilliant, hilarious lines from everyone at all times. I could just copy the whole script to show all the great lines. Even little random bits of dialogue, like when they are talking about children’s book ideas. One guy suggests, "a tribe of asparagus children, but they're self-conscious about the way their pee smells." That is objectively hilarious, and it’s just a random throwaway line. Yet, it also connects to a later scene, when Dinklage is rejecting story ideas: “tomatoes are too vulnerable”. What seem like throwaway jokes actually work together to create a unified vision of absurdity and comedy. Like the running joke that Buddy loves syrup; that’s hilarious on its own, but then the guy in the mailroom sneaks “syrup” into his coffee and gets Buddy drunk for the first time. That is funny on its own as well, but it means more because of the running joke about syrup, and it also leads directly to the conflict and eventual resolution with his dad. Absolutely brilliant.

11. Supporting Cast. Everyone kills it. Everyone. And after multiple viewings, you catch little expressions or idiosyncrasies that fill every scene with humor. The lines are brilliant on their own, but they wouldn’t be as memorable without the timing and delivery of Zooey Deschanel and James Caan and Mary Steenbergen and Bob Newhart and friggin Ed Asner and Peter friggin Dinklage. Even Artie Lange is great as the “beef and cheese” Santa. No matter the length of the role, everyone gives a standout performance. And the kid from A Christmas Story is one of the elves at the Workshop. That’s cool.

12. Writing. Besides the killer lines and almost perfect script, writing is a main element of the story, which I always appreciate. Buddy’s dad is a publisher, who doesn’t really care if kids’ books contain the last few pages as long as they pay for them. He is trying to come up with a story before Christmas to save the company. Buddy ends up becoming the story and saving the day. And then, in an example of life copying fiction, a real children’s book was made about Buddy the Elf.

13. Directing. This was Jon Favreau’s second movie. Not bad for Monica’s boyfriend who wanted to fight in the UFC. This movie was so good they let him direct Iron Man even though the only other movie he had directed was Zathura. I can’t give Will Ferrell all the credit for the whimsical nature of the movie. From the decision to have cartoons in the beginning, to the musical choices, to the pacing and everything else a director oversees, this succeeds on literally every level.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

13 Things I Love about The Shining

1. Cinematography. From the opening shot of the lake and mountain, to the last shot of a frozen Jack Nicholson and a spooky old photograph, this is such a beautiful movie. It’s definitely an Art film with a Capital A by a very serious Film Director (although Kubrick didn’t actually shoot the opening shot; never believe in the lone genius myth, it takes a village to create a masterpiece) but it’s also highly enjoyable. Everything is so perfectly orchestrated, and each shot is done with a sense of purpose, balance and mystery. The cinematography does more than just look good, too, it accentuates the themes of loneliness and despair. The opening shot is memorably gorgeous but it also imbues the viewer with a sense of dread by showing us just how isolated they are from civilization.

2. Music. That opening shot is not only memorable for its scope and the impressive scenery, it’s actually terrifying! But how? Why? It’s just a panning shot of water and trees! Something so natural and beautiful becomes disturbing because of the intense music. The rising chords make your heart race and your skin crawl with anticipation, as if some horrible force is just out of sight. The music throughout the movie is vital to creating the tense, eerie atmosphere

3. Sounds. Beyond the intense music, I love all the little sounds throughout the movie. It takes place in an empty hotel in the middle of nowhere, so every sound is magnified. When Jack is “working,” the sound of the typewriter ricochets off the walls of the giant room. When he takes a “break” to toss the tennis ball, that loud “splonk” noise echoes down the empty hallways. When Danny rides around on his trike, the wheels make a different sound on the carpet than on the hard wood floors, and it takes me back to riding my Big Wheels around the house. These sounds aren’t all that important individually but they come together to create a feeling. Kubrick tries to engage with all of our senses. When scared, the tiniest sound can become a cannon shot, and that is often the sensation here. Every single sound is intensified, which heightens all of our senses and almost makes us feel like we are in the hotel. Every single aspect of the movie matters. Which brings me to…

4. Colors. Kubrick always creates these bizarre settings, like the Milk Bar in Clockwork Orange. The settings here are all weird and awesome, and the color schemes are incredible. The red and white bathroom where Jack talks with the former keeper is made for a horror movie. I’ve never really seen a bathroom like that, and if I did, I would assume a murderous ghost would approach me. Then there’s the infamous carpeting. The red and black pattern is hypnotic and disturbing. How is a carpet disturbing? Is it just because I’ve seen the movie several times and associate the carpet with the events of the movie, or is it objectively disturbing? Maybe both. There’s also this aggressively ugly but awesome green and purple carpeting with green and white walls in Room 237. And of course, RED RUM, and the red doors of the elevator which foreshadow the infamous scene of the blood pouring out.

5. Room 237. The cook, Halloran, tells Danny this room is off limits. Something bad happened here before. Later, Danny goes in. We don’t see what happens, he just shows up a few moments later in his mom’s room sucking his thumb with a ripped sweater. He tells his mom a woman tried to strangle him, so Jack checks it out. At first it’s a hot naked lady, then it’s a not hot naked old lady. This moment probably freaked me out the most as a young man watching for the first time. Talk about playing with my emotions! Room 237 is also the name of a great documentary about the many conspiracy theories surrounding The Shining. It delves into the weird but plausible theories as well as the not as plausible, but it’s a lot of fun and gives great insight into the movie regardless of whether you believe the theories. Besides that documentary, there’s also the episode of The Simpson’s that parodies The Shining (“The Shinning”) which is one of the greatest network tv episodes ever made. When a film spawns a great documentary and a classic parody, it’s something special.

6. Scatman Crothers! Every time I hear his name I sing in my head “Bee bop bop bada bop, bop bop bada bop…Scatman!” He plays the cook, Halloran, who shares Danny’s ability to “shine.” He tells Danny about the gift and tries to warn him about the hotel. His best moment is when he hears about the storm on the news, and gets worried about the family. He’s rocking some fly pajamas, lying on his bed in his very 70’s monochromatic room, surrounded by pictures of beautiful naked women in Afros hanging on the wall. He’s the best.

7. Shelley Duval. A lot of people hate on her or her performance but I think it’s perfect for the movie. First off, as far as the story itself, she is the only one who takes care of Danny, she does all of the work taking care of the hotel, and she takes care of Jack’s crazy ass. Then, she rightfully freaks out when freaky shit starts happening and her husband is clearly losing his mind. Her freakouts are key to creating the feeling of terror. She’s all alone in a giant hotel in the middle of a mountain, trying to protect her only son from her insane husband. She helps sell the true terror of that situation. I also think she’s largely in the film because of her unique look. She has a very distinctive face with lots of sharp angles, and it fits so well with the scenery and cinematography. Her sharp angles are framed by the angles of the hotel, and she becomes part of the scenery. She wears these weird outfits that simply exist for their aura and to add another element of weirdness. She’s great.

8. Jack Nicholson. Absolutely insane. This is his master work. He has great lines and delivers them perfectly. He also has a distinctive face, in particular his mouth, which can effectively change from an Innocent grin to a raving mad ear to ear smirk in a moment. There’s too many great lines to recount them all, but one stood out to me while watching it this time. Duval runs into his room and tells him about the woman in Room 237 who hurt Danny. He gives her this disgusted look and says, “Are you out of your fucking mind?” because there’s obviously nobody else in the hotel. This from a man who was literally just talking to a ghost before Duval came in. Even at the beginning, when he’s a seemingly normal guy, there’s this underlying creepiness due to his mannerisms and expressions. Then, when he eventually completely loses it, he is simultaneously hilarious and horrifying.

9. Disorientation. Kubrick keeps the audience constantly disoriented. It’s most obvious with the labyrinth. Early on, we follow Danny and his mom as they walk through, turning and backtracking, until they find the center. Then at the end, Danny loses his father in the labyrinth, where Jack meets his demise. Inside of the hotel, when we follow Danny around on his trike, the layout of the hotel doesn’t make any sense, which was on purpose. It’s like a maze. And of course, the carpeting, another optical illusion to get lost in.

10. Unexplained Mystery. Ambiguity is a tricky feat to pull off. There needs to be some kid of explanation to satisfy the audience’s thirst for understanding, but a little unsolved mystery can keep the audience engaged and make the story more enticing. Kubrick unsurprisingly pulls this off well. Who was that lady in room 237 exactly? We never find out. Who is that getting a blowjob from someone in a bear costume? And just WTF was that? If Jack was in the photograph from 1921, and if he “was always here” as he’s told, is this some sort of time loop? Is it a prediction? Is Jack a ghost? Are those creepy twins really there? How many people have the "Shining" and how’d they get it? We don’t know exactly, but not finding those things out doesn’t hurt the story or feel incomplete. It feels like there are just some things we’ll never know, and that’s ok because that’s life. It also allows for endless speculation, which is fun.

11. Native American influence. One of the theories discussed in the documentary is the underlying Native American metaphor. Watching it with this in mind, it becomes glaringly obvious. Native designs (Navajo and Apache, specifically) are used heavily throughout the hotel (window curtains, paintings) and Shelley Duvall wears a ridiculous yellow coat with Native imagery. In the storage with all of the giant cans of food (all real products, with real, classic labels—it’s the little things!) there are a bunch of Calumet cans that seem to stand out from the rest. The Calumet logo is a Native in a headdress. But most importantly, we are told early on that the hotel was built on top of an “Indian burial ground,” and some workers even had to fight off Natives during construction. Well then…should’ve never messed with that burial ground, whiteys!

12. Themes. The most prominent themes are loneliness, creative frustration, alcoholism, and regret, all of which feed off one another, and all of which are emphasized in almost every scene. The scenery, the settings, the expressions on people’s faces…everything contributes to these motifs. The setting in particular captures a sense of loneliness and isolation in almost every shot. It's rare for a film's themes to be so well reinforced through every aspect of the film. The themes are also tangled up with the mysterious elements; did Jack start seeing ghosts because of loneliness and creative frustration, or were the ghosts really there? His wife sees the bear-man giving a guy a BJ, so were they really there, or was she losing her mind, too? Or both?

13. Writing. I love Stephen King, but I’m so glad Kubrick made this his own. I never read the book so I don’t know if there are major differences, but I know King hates the movie. He should get over that and let more directors change up his books for movies. Staying too close to the source can actually hurt some movies. Some of the stuff in King’s books doesn’t need to be on screen. Neither IT movie included the adolescent gang bang did they? Let’s be real, does anyone remember The Shining made-for-tv movie, which King oversaw and that more closely followed the book? No. But more than just the script, writing itself is a key plot point to the story. All of the themes stem from writing: the loneliness of writing, the frustration it can cause, the looming alcoholism, and then the regret of not doing more or being better. Regret often comes with writing because writing requires reflection, and Jack has a lot of regrets and refuses to reflect honestly. King on the other hand has spoken about his regrets, in particular his past alcoholism and drug abuse. Jack is basically a stand in for who King could’ve become, which is kinda scary for his wife and kids, but it sure made for a great character.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

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. 

The Elterich Cottage in Rhode Island

“Some places are like people. Some shine and some don’t.” –Dick Hallorann, The Shining

For 30 years, the Elterich Cottage in South Kingston, Rhode Island shined. A spacious house tucked away in the woods, within a short driving distance of several beaches, it served as the perfect setting for birthdays, weekends, vacations, spending time with family, partying with friends, or just getting away for a night.

I was 9 when my parents bought the house, set back a good 100 yards from Matunuck School House Road. The dirt driveway, commonly referred to as the entrance to the Batcave, took travelers on a windy path through the woods and eventually opened up to a large grass patch next to a brown, 2-story (including the basement) house and a wooden deck. The deck was massive, large enough to hold 30 years of family gatherings and parties.

A large staircase led from the main deck to a smaller deck and the front door. I always hated sweeping the leaves and sticks off the decks and stairs as a kid. It felt like half of my day was spent sweeping, although it probably took all of 10 minutes. Even on vacation, my parents made sure I understood hard work and responsibility.

I realized early on how lucky I was to have a "vacation" home. It's just not a thing most people have. It took me a little longer to appreciate my parents' openness with the house. When I  was young, it felt obvious that my friends would be able to stay with me for the weekend, and go to the beach and eat burgers and fish and corn on the cob and play ping pong. But not every parent is willing to do that for their kids and kids' friends. My parents also let family and friends stay there when they weren't using it, something else a lot of people wouldn't do, not without charging a crazy amount anyway.

The stairs to the front door of the house have presented a problem in the last few years as my mother has lost the ability to walk. My dad had an electric stair chair installed, which helped for a while. Fortunately, Gremlins never toyed with it and shot my mom up into the night sky, but it was still a lot of extra work to get to a house that was supposed to provide a restful getaway.

More than that, though, maintaining a second house was just too much. We would all have loved to keep the house forever, but the reality is that it cost money and required a lot of effort from my Dad to maintain. Besides, it wasn't getting much use, certainly not enough to warrant the time, money, and effort. We're 90 minutes away, and I'm not really a huge beach guy anyway; one reason I liked the house so much growing up was that it wasn't right on the beach, crowded in with other cookie cutter cottages. My brother and his family are even further away, and the same goes for most of my family. As far as spending weekends there with a big group of friends, it's hard to get a group of friends together nearby, let alone in a different state. Plus people have kids and we're at the age where everyone wants their own bed; sleeping on the floor with some pillows next to three other guys just won't cut it anymore. It's a decent sized house, but long gone are the days when 10-12 people could stay over night comfortably.

Ahh, youth.

It's sad to say goodbye and not have the option of "heading down to Rhode Island" at any time, but it was a necessary step. Moving or selling a house is hard because in addition to losing the house, it feels like losing the memories, too. Every corner of every room contained multiple memories, and being there was like traveling to the past. Each visit also created new memories, stacked on top of the old ones. There was always a special energy in the house, the vibrations of all those cherished moments. Spending time there flooded me with positive feelings. Almost everyone (animals included) I've ever cared for has spent time there.

But of course, memories stay with us, whether the house (or person, or pet) is with us or not. All we can do is cherish those memories.

Although I didn't live there, the house in Rhode Island has been in my life longer than any other home. I lived with my parents in Hartford for 14 years, then West Hartford for about 11 years (my parents have been in WH for 25 years total). But I have been celebrating birthdays and Independence Days, and spending weekends and summer weeks at the house in Rhode Island for 3 decades straight.

Four generations experienced that house, albeit not at the same time. My nieces and my grandmothers both spent time there. I remember being there with my grandmother, E-Mommy, while my parents were out. I jumped off the top deck and somehow hit my chin against my knee, almost biting my tongue off. I ran in crying and she calmed me down, soothed the injury, and told me not to worry about getting in trouble. Exactly what I needed to hear.

Even the things I hated as a kid bring back positive feelings now. When we were down there on the weekend, even when my friends were there, we always had to go to church, where a guy played guitar poorly and everyone sang poorly. But that was the price we had to pay to go to the flea market (which had cheap t-shirts and baseball cards) and the beach, or to get corn on the cob and rent a movie from the local video store.

There was a local video store! I remember watching Ace Ventura over and over for an entire weekend one time with a friend. For a long time we only had basic cable, so we didn't have many options if we didn't rent a movie. I remember watching many episodes of The Commish and Father Dowling's Mysteries. We also had a ton of puzzles and board games. My two favorite were always Pictionary and Pass the Pigs.

I loved being down there with friends, or just my brother and parents. I really liked the solitude as well. I had a lot of time to myself, and I read a lot. I also explored the woods around the house, but I never went too deep because the mosquitoes were monstrous. I loved the little stream next to the house, where ducks and geese would swim by and sometimes come up to the porch for bread. Until our dog Dakota caught one. They found another stream after that.

I also got to drive my Dad's old little red moped around town. I'd spend hours riding. If a friend was down there we'd alternate between the moped and a bike. I only ran out of gas once, and only fell off once. I also burnt my leg on the exhaust once and my hair still doesn't grow there. But I'll always think of the little red moped when I think of Rhode Island.

And the ice cream shop. Tropic Frost. It just wasn't a trip to Rhode Island without stopping there. My mom had to get her black raspberry chocolate chip. I had to get a massive hot fudge sundae. That was always a great way to end a day at the beach.

Early on we put up a basketball hoop in the driveway. Even though the court was mostly dirt and stones, we made the most out of it, until it was too rotted out. We also made the most out of the ping pong table, which was lopsided when we first got it. I don't know how it lasted a weekend let alone 30 years. If you leaned on it the whole thing collapsed. But I honed my ping pong skills there and now use my superior ping pong skills to beat kids at work.

Although I never really got into it, I remember fishing with my dad. Charleston Beach has the breachway, a large rock formation jutting out into the ocean. I liked climbing and walking on that more than the actual fishing, but I appreciate my dad taking me with him and teaching me. Even if I don't take up an activity, it doesn't mean I didn't enjoy or appreciate the experience. I mostly didn't like waking up early. Even though fishing wasn't my thing, there's nothing better than eating fish right out of the ocean. I vividly remember a blackfish he caught and cooked up. Before I really got into eating fish, I always loved eating what he caught, even though I could never join him in cleaning the fish.

I always preferred crabbing to fishing. Moonstone Beach had a great spot for blue crabs. There was a small sand bridge over a lagoon, right before the beach itself. We'd stand on the bridge and drop a fishing line tied to a big chicken drumstick into the water. When we first started, we'd see a dozen crabs scurrying after the chicken. When one grabbed on, we'd slowly pull it closer until we could reach it with a net, then scoop it right out. We'd catch ten in an hour. A couple giant snapping turtles lived in there, and we scooped those bad boys up, too. We'd immediately put them back but it was cool to watch them snapping their teeth at us. In later years, we'd be lucky to catch a couple crabs the entire afternoon. Maybe we overdid it those early years.

Of course, those weren't the only type of crabs you could catch at Moonstone Beach....I think that was the first place I saw the nude body of a stranger in real life. Going to a nude beach was...not exactly the experience I imagined it would be. Mostly because the beachgoers at Moonstone tended to be members of the AARP. It was one of my first experiences learning the value of limited expectations. But I also learned to appreciate body positivity and that people are entitled to do what they want with their bodies, even if they maybe shouldn't.

As I got older, my parents trusted my friends and I with the house for occasional getaways. We always managed to respect the house while enjoying ourselves. I even willingly swept the decks! Only once, the cops were called on us. Actually, it was twice but in the same night. The vast woods around the house carry every single sound, and apparently our neighbors didn't like our sing-a-long. But we loved it.

It would have been great to always have it as an option for vacations or weekends, but we're not rich, and healthcare is an expensive, tragic joke in this country. The house wouldn't be used enough to make it worthwhile. Holding on to it just for the sake of memories isn't realistic, and it wouldn't be fair, either. Houses are for people to use, not sit empty for 350 days of the year. It's a great house and space, and hopefully some other family or group of people can make the lasting memories that we did.

So, Elterich Cottage, thanks for the memories. Mom and Dad, thanks for providing this amazing place for me and Mike to experience during our formative years, and well beyond. Family and friends, thank you all for helping to make this place special. It will be greatly missed, but it's time to move on. So it goes.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

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.