My Finest Hour

This is my worst hour of the day
Waiting here in bed for the pain to go away,
waiting for the meds to work, and keep the beasts at bay,
It helps to know that this is - the worst hour of the day.

I always have believed that life is sweet and sour.
It's never been more true before than in this most painful hour.
Simply to get through it - imagination I must scour
for the tiniest grains of anything, to keep from being dour.

It's not just words on paper now; I often write on screen;
its the one place I can turn and write; with some things left unseen.
But I must never trod the path to become petty or be mean,
You know I'm simply not the type who wants to make a scene.

It doesn't really take much time to write these silly poems and songs.
And doesn't matter anyway, I don't have to wait too long.
In about an hour, while still feeling less than  strong
I'll be wondering, deep inside, how things ever went this wrong...

"Jimmy P." with Benicio De Toro and Mathieu Amalric (2013)

This is one amazing story. It will have you engrossed for the entire film. You will feel the frustration and the sadness which accompanies Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. You won’t see only the violent side of this disease as it is so often shown on television and in films. PSTD doesn’t have to be violent or dramatic. It can be silent, but just as destructive. In this true account Jimmy Picard; played by Benicio Del Toro; is a troubled Blackfoot Indian with a severe case of PTSD after serving in the Army overseas, where he saw combat.

There are essentially only 2 players in this drama; Jimmy Picard the patient, and his therapist Dr. Georges Devereux; played by Mathieu Amalric. Dr. Chevereux is the slightly off beat; and broke; French analyst who is consulted by the staff of the hospital where Jimmy is being treated after they cannot find anything wrong with him. Aside from a general feeling of nausea, along with debilitating headaches, there is no real “medical” reason for his problems; hence no cure. He seems destined for a life of unabated hell.

Enter Dr. Devereux, who recognizes that Jimmy has been through one ordeal after another; beginning with some traumatic childhood experiences he has repressed. During the war the relationship between right and wrong; good or bad; became blurred. These events led him back to the suppressed events of his childhood. The collision of those two worlds; and standards of justice; were the root cause of his headaches. Understanding this was the key to his relief.

Initially the doctor is only interested in Jimmy as an extension of his anthropological studies about Native Americans, but he very quickly warms to the man as someone in need. In helping Jimmy the doctor finds something new about himself and his own capacity to give. Through a series of meetings and conversations he essentially performs a complete psychoanalysis of Jimmy as a subject. And with Jimmy so willing; and able; to help, his recovery is soon assured.

This is one of the best of the many wonderful performances we have seen from Benicio Del Toro. And for those unfamiliar with him this is the perfect introduction to Mathieu Amalric. With no special effects; and no real “action”; this film is able to showcase the powerful acting on the part of these two most capable thespians. After watching this powerful film the term “actor” seems inadequate.

  

The Art of the Flirt

I have wanted to write this for a long time but I keep putting it off as some people might find the topic to be off putting. But, after listening to some local talk show radio host tackle the subject the other day, I realized that the time has come for some words of wisdom on the subject. Being the only one available on the payroll, I will assume that task.

The ultimate flirt is not about sex at all. Actually, a good flirt is a one-time thing; a flash which you remember for its brightness and surprise. If you wind up taking it further than that it becomes a whole new ball game; lots of rules there. A flirt is spontaneous; and beyond any rules. An example;

I’m in my car riding along; stop for a red light outside one of the nicer malls. (This is an actual event - not one of those dream sequences.) Car pulls up next to me with a good looking woman in it. She’s doing her hair, fixing her lipstick, oblivious to my watching. She looks over; startled; and I give her the A-OK sign and a wink. 

Now, I never wink. That’s something only guys like Clark Gable, or really cool cab drivers can pull off well. But I did; she was caught off guard and blushing, gave a little wave of thanks as the light changed and we drove off, never to meet again.

The idea is that a good flirt makes both parties feel good about themselves; as well as displaying an attraction for the other person. Not necessarily physical, either. Just something between two people on a personal level; could be at the store where you shop. That fun little exchange of banter when you go through the checkout; it means something to both of you. You both get to feel special; and if you’re old, still viable.

But most flirting is instantaneous, and then the moment is gone. That magic has sailed. Remember the voyage; because that’s a moment you’ll never get back. They write songs about it.

I must be wrong; because most of the callers put it all down to sex and conquest. The men and women were equally predatory. I put that down to too much of TV’s “The Bachelorette.”

Here’s a poem I wrote in 1984 in New York City; a wonderful place for flirting. At least it used to be. This was my reaction to one of those moments. As I said, they write songs about it.

She Took Me

She took me;

quite by surprise;

as I was walking;

one hand grazing a sandstone stoop.

In passing,

I turned my head

to see her face and

the quizzical, puzzled look –

Not without affection or fondness

for whatever it was that she could see

at that moment.

A look as if

she wanted to know more…

East 73^rd at Madison Avenue

August 22^nd, 1985

The illustration at the top is Eugene Blaas' 1902 "Flirtation at the Well."

"The Snake Pit" with Olivia DeHavilland, Mark Stevens and Celeste Holm (1948)

This is one of the hardest films for me to watch. It is searing. I have planned on reviewing this film for several years, but needed to work up the courage to view the film again. It is that painful in its portrayal of human frailty. I cannot imagine how deeply Ms. De Havilland had to dig within herself in order to play this role. This film was made in the days when actors and actresses had to dig deep within themselves in an effort to bring life to the characters which they portrayed. This film, and Ms. De Havilland's performance, prove the point.

In this film she plays Virginia Cunningham, a woman who finds herself in a mental asylum with people who are seriously afflicted. She cannot recall how she got there. Through a series of flashbacks her husband, Robert, played by Mark Stevens, begins to recount the story of their courtship in Chicago. What follows is the tale of a woman going mad.

As the two continue to date, Virginia becomes more and more shut off, and eventually she leaves for New York with no explanation. When Robert runs into her again, after some time apart, the two are married and all should be well. Instead this is only the beginning of Virginia’s final descent into her own private hell.

While Virginia continues undergoing treatment under the care of Dr. Mark Kik, played by Leo Glenn, she seems to be making progress. But soon she takes a turn for the worse and finds herself back in the most intensive ward of the hospital, known as the “Snake Pit”.

In 1948 a film dealing with a schizophrenic inmate at a mental institution was pretty much cutting edge stuff. Virginia hears voices and is totally out of touch with reality. The scenes of shock therapy and the treatment of the inmates by some of the staff were not yet the stuff of TV dramas and documentaries. The strait jacket scene still sends shivers down my spine; I cannot bear to be restrained.

The film won 7 Academy Awards, including Best Picture for 1948. It was directed by Director Anatole Litvak, who was adamant that Ms. De Havilland, as well as other key players in the film, undergo several months of research and training before shooting of the film even began.  In the end though, it all paid off. This is one intense film to watch.

Ms. De Havilland, who is still alive and well; living in Paris; has described this as being her favorite movie among the scores in which she starred. I know this to be true; as about 5 years ago, on her birthday in July; I sent her a birthday greeting along with a review of “Robin Hood” with Errol Flynn. She was kind enough to send a reply and mentioned the fact to me then.

The “Snake Pit” is so painful for me to watch; and her acting so realistic; that it has taken me that long to work up the courage to watch it again! It is no wonder she won the Academy Award for her work in this film.

"Silver Linings Playbook" with Robert DeNiro and Bradley Cooper (2012)

David O. Russell did an excellent job of writing the screen play for this movie, which is taken from the novel by Matthew Quick. Set in present day Philadelphia, the film tells the story of Pat, Jr., played by Bradley Cooper, who is released from John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore after becoming violent when he finds his wife in the shower with another man.

After 8 months, his mother, played by Jacki Weaver, comes to pick him up and take him home. But, there are conditions to his release. He must remain on his medications; which he routinely spits out; and he must not have any contact with his estranged wife, including staying several hundred feet from her place of employment. Any violation of these conditions will see him returned to Baltimore.

Arriving at home in Philadelphia, Pat, Jr. finds that his father, Pat Sr., played by Robert DeNiro, has lost his job and is taking bets on sports events as a way to make a living. Pat, Jr. cannot seem to come to terms with the dissolution of his marriage. He feels that if can just explain to her what happened that day when he caught her in the shower, he can move on. But, there is that pesky restraining order to be dealt with.

He hooks up with an old friend, Ronnie, played by John Ortiz, who is married, and through him meets a woman named Tiffany, played by Jennifer Lawrence. Her husband was a police officer killed in the line of duty; leaving Tiffany widowed and deeply troubled. She has been on a bender, sleeping with just about anyone she can, to fill the void left by her husband’s death. When Pat, Jr. meets her, things begin to happen.

He continues to eschew the medications and embarks on a journey of self-discovery. His main goal is to get back to his wife; even if just to explain his actions and what caused him to lose control. He also longs to return to teaching, which his diagnosis as bi-polar prevents him from doing. So, he begins to look for the “silver linings” in his life as a way to regain control of himself. The biggest problem he has is that he hears the Stevie Wonder song “My Cheri Amour” playing over and over in his head. It was the song he and his wife danced to at their wedding, and was also the song playing on the radio when he discovered his wife in the shower. Whenever he hears it; or thinks he does; he becomes out of control, threatening the very freedom which he cherishes.

As he becomes involved more and more with Tiffany, he begins to realize that we are all, to some extent, obsessed with something or other. His father is a fanatic Philadelphia Eagles fan, and risks prison for taking bets on the game. After all, how sane is that? As Pat and Tiffany get to know one another more, they begin to feed off of one another with surprising results. What begins as a love-hate type relationship evolves into a deeper understanding of both themselves, as well as those around them who affect their lives. In the end, the question which hangs in the air is not whether Pat, Jr. and Tiffany are flawed, but rather it becomes apparent that we all are; in one way or another.

Robert DeNiro gets better and better with each film he makes. It doesn’t matter if he is directing, or just acting, he simply matures more with each film he does. 

The Eye's Have it / Here's Looking at You!

That's not Mars pictured above. It's an image of my left eye, taken yesterday, during my first "real" eye exam in decades. It was a simple, routine exam to make sure I'm wearing the appropriate strength "cheaters", which by my standard is about 2.5 magnification. Well, I was right about what I need, but the glasses I have been using were too weak at 2.0 strength. I keep about 6 pairs strewn about, in all the places where I will likely need them. And even then, I have several pairs of the older/lesser strength glasses lying about as spares, just in case. Weak glasses are better than no glasses at all!

Anyway, this eye exam was really interesting, as I've said, it's been decades since I have had a real one, so I was surprised at all the gadgets and gizmos available to conduct an examination with. In my mind, an eye exam consisted of simply looking at a chart, one usually mounted on the wall. I always read the bottom line as "Made in Philadelphia- Local 400." Freaks the Examiner out at DMV when you're right. And if you're wrong, it doesn't count anyway...

So, like I said, I was very impressed with the examination, as well as the technology. The results were good. I can see 20/15 or so, long distance, and for reading I need 2.5 reading glasses, which, as I've explained, I already have. Not bad for an old guy!

The most impresive thing to me was the image above, which is of my left eye, from the rear. That circle you see, which I initially thought was my iris, is actually the rear of my eye, and the main "disc" where all of the nerves in the eye come together and form the entire "Optic" nerve, which leads to the brain. So, in essence this is a picture of how we see what we see. I find it fascinating.

We all take our eyes for granted, until the day when we suddenly can't see. Take a little time today and think, if even just for a moment, about not being able to see the world around you, or the faces of those whom you love. And the thought of never being able to read! That's a sobering thought, especially for me.

Thanks, Dr. Crawford for such a patient, and educational experience, though I do hope not to see you in the near future!


(Click on the above to enlarge it for Dr. Crawford's contact information.)

"The Great Oom" by Robert Love

Most of us think of Transcendental Medtation, and Yoga, in conjunction with the 1960's and The Beatles. There can be no denying the fact that the 1960's and the pop culture of the decade did a tremendous amount to advance the practice, and study of, Yoga in the United States. But prior to that, for almost 100 years, this movement of spiritual and physical beliefs was being practiced here in the United States, quietly, and by some of it's most prominent citizens.

The author delves into the history of Yoga, explaining just what it is that has attracted, and retained, millions of followers the world over. Exploring the differences between the Hatha and Tantric styles, the reader is given a deeper understanding of just what Yoga is, and how it can be of benefit to both mind and body. They are, after all, connected to one another.

Yoga makes it's first written appearance in the Rig Veda, the oldest of the four Hindu texts known as the Vedas. These date back to about 1,500 B.C., though Yoga has been praticed for about 5,000 years, in total.

It is not certain exactly when Yoga first came to this country, but it is well known that the spread of the discipline can be traced directly back to a very unusual man during the Gilded Age. His name was Perry Baker, who would go on to become Pierre Bernard, a Victorian version of the Maharishi. Through lectures and publicity he became the father of Yoga in America for many years.

Beginning in San Francisco, and then on to the Northwest and back East to New York, Mr. Bernard leads the nation in a quest for spirituality. This journey leads him to the elite Wall Street crowd and the creme de la creme of Victorian Society. The stories of the rich and famous, as they seek enlightment, are priceless. The names involved are noteworthy.

At the same time as this book follows the journey of this one extraordinary fellow, (he even gets involved in elephant training at one point, and with a baseball team in Nyack, N.Y. at another) it also follows the efforts being made by others to introduce the nation to the lost teachings of the East.

As early as 1875, in New York City, there was the team of Madame Helena Blavatsky and Colonel Henry Olcott, who founded the Theosophical Society in order to study the texts of Buddhism and Hinduism more closely. By 1901 they were a world wide force, with chapters in over 42 countries.

The book is also helpful in explaining the different approaches to Yoga. It appears that there are two main forms; the Hatha discipline, which is based upon the control of the body, through a system of postures and exercises, in order to clear the mind; and Tantric Yoga, which seems to focus more on the use of the mind to harmonize the body. Don't judge me too harshly on these understandings, as this is my first time delving into the Mysteries of the East, and I invite any corrections of my limited understanding on the subject.

A very interesting read that need not be confined only to those interested in Yoga, this book is a portrait of people, then and now, looking to find a better way to live. And along the path to that story is attached a colorful and interesting account of America from the 1870's through the 1950's. A great gift for the Yogi in your life.

"Gonville" by Peter Birkenhead

What would it be like to be raised by a man who was alternately angry, passive, filled with joy and sometimes in deep despair? How would you feel if your father dressed in a pith helmet and spoke like Lt. Gonville, the character portrayed by Michael Caine in the historical drama "Zulu", a movie about the British in South Africa circa 1850?

Growing up in Brooklyn, and later, Long Island, in the 1960's and 70's,the author was faced with, and had to answer some of these questions. If not for everyone around him, then for his own sanity. Children don't always get to know the demons that haunt their parents. In this book, the author gives it his best shot. There are, indeed, comical moments in this honest and down to earth autobiography by Peter Birkenhead. But there is also a dark side to this tale.

Like many people do, Mr. Birkenhead dealt with these issues by not dealing with them. Throwing himself into a fantasy world was a great way to escape the turmoil at home. But escaping always bears a price to be paid at a later date. Eventually the author becomes an actor, playing many roles in which his character is angry at his father, just as he was with his own.

Haunted by a particularly vivid dream in which he is flying down a set of stairs begins a journey into the past. The dream turns out to be the night his father chased his wife and children from the apartment with a gun. The flight the author took down the stairs was in the arms of his mother.

A graphic look inside the mind of a child who was both amused, and confused, by the antics of his father, this book is honestly written. When we become adults the choices we make are largely our own. But a lot of what we chose to do with our lives stems directly from our experiences as children. Mr. Birkenhead has made this abundantly clear in this tightly written memoir.