An Ode to Richard Sharpe-Part Two

So where was I? Ah, yes..I had stumbled across the first in the Sharpe series by Bernard Cornwell, the novel known as "Sharpe's Rifles" which, as memory served, also happened to be the name I remembered from that long ago film from Maryland Public Television. I made my way up to the register and paid for it. I was eager to begin reading it, for I knew that I would immediately love the character and read all of the books in the series. It had a cool cover, too:


Look at that guy. Would you want to face him on the battlefield? There he is, looking mighty pissed off, holding an oversized cavalry sword and a patched up green jacket. This is the type of novel that positively begs to be read, right? Well, no. I always tend to drag my feet when it comes to adopting a new author. While I really wanted something new to read, I put the book aside for a couple of months and made do with the free newspapers that were available at the time (the RedEye and the RedLine). And it sat on my bookshelf until one August morning when I finally decided to give it a chance. I am glad that it did not stay there any longer. Although I could tell that this was an early novel (it read much like a first novel, and it was, in fact, the sixth Sharpe novel written), now, looking back, I can recognize the beginnings of the rich characterization Cornwell would bring to the Sharpe's novels.

"Sharpe's Rifles" introduces us to Richard Sharpe, a Lieutenant in a British rifle battalion that is part of the British force in Spain in 1809. The rifle company is part of the 95th, and the British rifleman are referred to as the "green jackets" because, rather than the red of the "redcoats", they wear jackets of green that speak to the elite nature of the rifle corp. As the story opens, the battalion is ambushed by French troops, and Sharpe must deal with mutiny within his ranks as a large Irishman named Patrick Harper and he do battle. Harper is beloved by the men and sees Sharpe as weak, but what is amazing is that the two become fast friends through the course of the events in this novel and the remaining novels in the series. Sharpe and the battalion meet up with Don Blas Vivar, a Spanish nobleman fighting for his country. Don Blas wants to get to Santiago de Compostela, a Spanish city occupied by the French, and raise the flag of Spain's patron saint as a sign of the indomitable spirit of the Spanish people during their war against Napoleon. Sharpe assists Don Blas in his efforts. One man seeks to thwart these plans, and that man is the Count of Mouromorto, a Spanish nobleman who also happens to be Don Blas' brother. Along the way, Sharpe and the rifles get into skirmishes and battles, rescue a damsel in distress, and end up no worse for the wear. By the end of the novel, however, one sees the greatness in the character.

I read the novel in record time. There were many things I loved about the novel. One of the main things was its educational aspect. Before I read the novel, I had no idea about the Peninsular Wars. The US educational system does not do justice to the proper study of Napoleon, Wellington, and the great European wars of the early 1800s. "Sharpe's Rifles" brought to life those volatile years in Europe. Cornwell's mastery of prose instantly transported me to the battlefields of Spain, and one could almost taste the salt from the gunpowder cartridges that Sharpe and his men used in their rifles. The character of Sharpe himself is a fascinating one. In future novels, we would discover that he was the son of a prostitute who had no knowledge of his father. After he was orphaned at the age of 3, he was raised in a foundling home, one of those horrible work houses straight out of "Oliver Twist." He grew up unloved and unwanted, beaten horribly and malnourished. He escaped to a bar where a barmaid named Maggie took him under her wing as a sort of matronly Fagin. He learned the finer arts of thieving from Maggie. As a young man, Sharpe joined the army as a way to escape the hangman's noose, for he had killed a man who was a rival for the affections of another young lady (young women would continue to be a weak spot for Sharpe throughout the novels). Sharpe started the novels as a Private and ended up a Lieutenant Colonel by the time of the 100 days (the period of time that marked Napoleon's return to power from the time of his escape from Elba until his defeat at Waterloo, Belgium). Sharpe's promotions were unheard of during a time when only the elite could be officers (commissions were purchased and not earned by merit, so only the rich could afford to be officers). Currently, there are 24 Sharpe's novels. Cornwell also wrote a 4 book series set during the Civil War (The Nathaniel Starbuck Chronicles) that has a link to the Sharpe series through the inclusion of a character who happens to be related to a Sharpe regular.

My recommendation for anyone reading the series is to start with "Sharpe's Tiger", the novel that describes the adventures of young Private Sharpe in Wellington's army's of India. When you start reading, you will find a tremendous sense of time and place thanks to the wonderfully descriptive prose of Bernard Cornwell. You will learn more about Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington who was affectionately called "Nosey" by his troops. You will discover how the destinies of Sharpe and Wellesley became intertwined early in their careers and will learn about the British conquest of India, the Battle of Trafalgar (of course Sharpe was on one of the ships), the siege of Copenhagen, the retreat of Napoleon from Portugal through Spain and back to France thanks to the efforts of the British forces and Spanish freedom fighters, and the final battle at Waterloo. That novel, simply titled "Waterloo", is one of my favorite books. Period. You will not be disappointed in the series. I have recommended the series to many people, and they invariably get hooked. Who wouldn't?

An Ode to Richard Sharpe-Part 1

Who is Richard Sharpe? Why is he one of my favorite literary characters, on par with even James Bond and Sherlock Holmes? Why should everyone take the time to learn more about him?

My story begins during my second year in graduate school. Let me take you back to 1995 Baltimore. I was living in student housing at the corner of Lombard and Greene Street. Around that time, the University of Maryland Medical Center thought it would be a good idea to begin construction on what was to become the Homer Gudelsky tower, an addition to the University of Maryland Hospital located on the north side of Lombard Street right across from the student center. At the time, the new library had not been constructed, and the promise of a new building made me more excited because I knew that the value of any degree was based, in part, upon the modernity of the facilities at the educational institutions. Furthermore, I was granted a wonderful vantage point from which I could watch the hospital go up. My window faced the construction site, and I envisioned watching the building take shape from start to finish.

Unfortunately, the construction plans included a LOT of night construction. The cranes, cement mixers, and bulldozers worked through the evening, especially during the summer. Now, our building did not have air conditioned rooms, and those of you who are familiar with Baltimore in the summertime will understand how difficult sleep would be even under normal circumstances. My situation was exacerbated by the neverending cacophony of the construction across the street. This situation was made worse by the contractors need to have bright flood lights mounted high over the construction site. Remember, in "Seinfeld", how Kramer could not sleep thanks to the bright red Kenny Roger's Roaster's sign located near his window. I would welcome light that was that dim. My room, even through its curtains, was forever bathed in light. Insomnia beckoned nightly, and there was nothing I could do to keep it at bay.

During one of these sleepless summer nights (yes, in grad school for one's PhD, there are no summer vacations), I found myself channel surfing at 3 AM. I neither had cable nor particularly good aerial reception for my tiny 13" television. Most of the time, my local Maryland Public Television station was a grainy blur, but on this one evening, I was treated to a movie that would introduce me to one of my favorite literary characters-Richard Sharpe. I cannot remember the particulars of the film. All I remember was that I was mesmerized by the story of a British rifleman during the Peninsular Wars between Britain and the France of Napoleon Bonaparte. There was action, there was intrigue, and there was..history? Although I began my search for a show in a desperate bid to find something to put me to sleep, I ended up finding a film that kept me up until 5 AM, long after the construction had finally ceased for the night.

After that night, years went by. I never found another Sharpe film, and in the infancy that would become the World Wide Web, I never thought to try and search for Sharpe on the internet. Heck, I did not even have an e-mail address at that time. I just thought that if I ever came across a videotape of Sharpe (yes, this was before the advent of DVDs), I would definitely pick up the film.

Flash forward to the summer of 2002. Almost 8 years had passed since I first watched my first Richard Sharpe film, and I had almost forgotten about the character. True, I had watched the actor, Sean Bean, in numerous films afterwards (including particularly good turns in "Patriot Games" and "Goldeneye"), and I knew that he was to play the character of Boromir, a member of the "Fellowship of the Rings", in Peter Jackson's upcoming adaptation of the "Lord of the Rings" saga, but I had not thought about the character except on those rare occasions watching a Sean Bean film. This all changed one day while I was perusing the shelves of the Border's Books and Music on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Chicago Avenue along the Magnificent Mile here in Chicago. I was on a lunch break and was desperate to find something to read on my long journeys to and from work. Riding the El without reading material is infinitely more tiring when there is nothing to grab one's attention, and I started to scan the titles in the "literature" section, starting with authors whose names began with the letter "A". My intent was to find a book series rather than an individual novel. After the "As" and "Bs" failed to yield anything of interest, my eyes were immediately drawn towards a series of novels whose spines were bright orange in color. I started a bit when I noticed the title of the first novel in the series was..."Sharpe's Rifles." The author was a man named Bernard Cornwell, a British expat now living in Massachusetts. Was the movie I remembered actually based on a series of books? That seemed too good to be true. I decided to take a chance. I picked "Sharpe's Rifles" from the shelf, made my way to the cashier, and made my purchase, with the intent that I would start reading it on my ride home from work.

Join me for my next blog entry, where I will answer the question "Who is Richard Sharpe?" in much more detail.

A little perspective, people....

Let me start off by saying that I am an animal lover. Dogs, cats, birds...it doesn't matter. Animals seem to like me as well, and somehow that sort of makes me feel better in a Stuart Smalley kind of way (I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, gosh darn it, animals like me). I think that animals are much more adept than people at sniffing out BS; they see through the players and can tell which people are sincere and which are not.

Having said that, I think that we tend to lose perspective when it comes to animal cruelty. Now, I am not here advocating that we should all go out and beat up a bird, but when the news days is dominated by the news that a somewhat pro golfer killed a hawk by hitting it with a golf ball, we need to step back and take stock in what is really going on in the world. True, it is a tragedy that deserves a quick mention, but PETA is already out there beating the drum for this golfer to be strung up by his own petard for the temerity to kill a bird. As if Ronald McDonald and Colonel Sanders don't commit this very same heinous act millions of times per day. As if all of us, in the middle of our chicken dinners, will pause for a moment of silence for the spirit of the dead bird.

Do I sound harsh? If I sound harsh, this is why:

Benedict Rogers book is an account of the systematic genocide of the Burmese people. The Karen are a peaceful people who live an agrarian lifestyle, but they are being killed by the ruling regime. Where is the righteous indignation on the part of the press concerning GENOCIDE? Oh, right...a bird died. Stop the presses. The people will put down their chicken dinners to shed a few tears for a bird on a golf course, but AN ENTIRE POPULATION in a country most Americans cannot even point to on a world map? Someone else's problems. Those of you who own rubies or want rubies, consider this: over 90% of the world's rubies comes from a single valley in Burma, where the workers are akin to slaves. Remember that the next time you take out your ruby jewelry.

Have we also forgotten about this?


The Darfur conflict is ongoing. The tribal civil war in Sudan has claimed between 200,000 to 400,000 people. That's hundreds of thousands, people. Are the world governments in an uproar over this? Well, there are SANCTIONS, but because we can get oil elsewhere, we are not supporting the Sudanese government's attempts at genocide...yet. The Chinese government has no such hesitation, as they are purchasing most of the oil that the Sudanese government sells. And what does the government buy with the money? Why, the latest and greatest arms with which to mow down innocent civilians. Why give kids who are running from the violence a chance when you can purchase a brand new RPG and get rid of a whole lot of them in one fell swoop.

Now, a lot has been mentioned about what is going on in Asia and Africa. We still have problems in our own country. Remember this?


I know that Daisy does. This is an image taken in the days following Hurricane Katrina. Now the rest of the country, thanks to the news media, wants to believe that everything is back to normal in New Orleans. It isn't. When a couple of friends visited the city for the BCS "National Championship" (yeah, it's in quotes for a reason), they recounted how the side streets were still pretty deserted and how the city seemed like a shell of what it must have been. People are not moving back, and the country has apparently forgotten about this classic American town (built below sea level by the French...so they are the real culprits in the tragedy).

But no...instead of focusing on real problems such as genocide in far away places or poverty and hardship right here in the US, we get stories of PETA demanding action for a bird that died. In the grand scheme of things, aren't there other things that are more important?

I am sad about the bird, but I am haunted by reading about the Karen people genocide.

My Favorite Movies: Raiders of the Lost Ark

There are some cinematic creations that truly stand the test of time. As stated insightfully by Eddie in his comment on my Academy Awards post, the real test of a classic film is how it is viewed in the decades following its release. A film's longevity cannot be measured simply in years; it must be measured in decades. One such film that belongs in the pantheon of cinematic classics is "Raiders of the Lost Ark."


In May of 1977, George and Marcia Lucas and Steven Spielberg and Amy Irving were vacationing in Hawaii. It was the weekend of the release of "Star Wars", and Lucas continued his tradition, begun with the release of "American Graffiti", of getting out of Hollywood every time one of his films was released. As Lucas watched in amazement the reports by Walter Cronkite on the burgeoning phenomenon (lines around the block) that was to become "Star Wars", he and Spielberg started to discuss a new film based on Lucas's story idea of an homage to the great movie serials of the past. Lucas would write the film and produce it, with Spielberg handling the directing chores. The story would follow the adventures of a globe trotting archaeologist with a penchant for getting into trouble. The focus of the film would be the MacGuffin to end all MacGuffins, and the villains and and heroes would be of the strict "black hat-white hat" variety with none of the shades of grey found in the antiheroes (Vito Corleone, Popeye Doyle, Harry Callahan) of the 1970s. Even the name would be iconic. Lucas had written a story treatment for the film, "The Adventures of Indiana Smith." Spielberg was the one who pointed out that the name Smith just did not sound right. Lucas changed it to Jones, and the rest is cinematic history.

Indiana Jones.

Yes, Indiana was the name of a dog (Lucas' dog), and Spielberg helped him come up with the surname. During production of The Empire Strikes Back, Lucas, producer Frank Marshall, and writer Lawrence Kasdan worked on the story and refined the elements, discarding many that would later resurface in the 2 sequels. Spielberg and Lucas began work on June 23, 1980 (the summer of "The Empire Strikes Back"), shooting the film as they would an independent film (few takes, rapid set-ups and take downs, multiple set-ups per day, etc).

One of the more well known bits of trivia is that Tom Selleck was originally cast in the role of Indiana Jones. Due to his contractual commitments to the TV series "Magnum PI", however, Selleck was forced to bow out. On the strength of his performances as Han Solo, Harrison Ford convinced the producers and Spielberg that he would be ideal in the role of Indiana Jones. In hindsight, it would be difficult to see anyone else in the role.

I was 10 years old when Raiders was released in 1981.

I was 11 years old when I finally saw it in the theaters. By that time, I had memorized every panel of the Marvel Comics adaptation. I thought that I knew the film backwards and forwards, and I believed that, after a year of listening to my classmates extol the virtues of Professor Jones, there was NO WAY the film could live up to the hype. One could tell the story of the film just by a sequence of memorable quotes from the film.

"The Hovitos are here. Pppp...the poison is still fresh. They are following us, I tell you."
"This is where Forrestal cashed in." "A friend?" "A competitor. He was good. He was very good."
"You throw me the whip, I throw you the idol."
"I hate snakes, Jock. I HATE THEM."
"Didn't any of you guys ever go to Sunday School?"
"An army that carries the Ark before it...would be invincible."
"Besides, Marcus, you know how careful I am."
"Whisky?"
" . . . more than that, Jones. I'm your goddamn partner!"
"Bad Dates"
"Snakes..why'd it have to be snakes?"
"Asps...very dangerous...you go first!"
"What truck?"
"I am the monarch of the sea...."
"It ain't the years..it's the mileage" (CLASSIC MOVIE QUOTE)
"It's a transmitter...a radio for speaking to God."
"And I assure you it will be. We have top men working on it now." . . . "Who?" . . ."Top...men..."

Iconic moments in cinematic history abound in the film. From the first traps of the South American tomb (spiders, spears, darts, and giant boulder), the viewer is transported to a small college, where we learn of the Ark of the Covenant. With the first strains of the Ark theme playing in the background as the army men learn of the power of the ark from Marcus Brody and Indiana Jones, the audience gets a sense of the mystery and the importance of the quest. The music of Raiders represents some of the best in the career of John Williams, and that is saying a lot considering the man created memorable scores for Jaws, Star Wars, and Superman. We were then whisked away to Nepal with a meeting with Marion Ravenwood and the evil Toht. A snowy gunbattle and an icy night later, we are in Egypt with Sallah, Indy's ally. The map room of Tanis sequence (after the memorable chase scene and the "duel" between Indy and the swordsman) is one of the best moments of the film. The discovery and escape from the Well of Souls, the airplane fistfight, the truck chase, the escape by sea, and the final climax on the hidden Nazi island as Belloq, in a Jewish ritual conducted among Nazis, pays the ultimate price for his evil, all rush by at breakneck speed. Of all of the lasting images, however, none is so indelible as the final scene of the film. After being assured by Army men that "top men" are conducting research on the Ark, we see the truth. With the eerie strains of "the Ark theme" playing in the background, a faceless worker crates up the Ark, stencils on an ID number, and slowly wheels it down an endless row of similar boxes in a nameless government warehouse...somewhere. As the Ark is slowly wheeled from sight, the screen fades to credits and the "Raiders March" plays over the speakers.



Brilliant. Freaking brilliant film.

What critiques can one make of the film? The performances were top notch, the story was engaging, and the concept was familiar yet unique. True-the cartoon Nazis in Spielberg's "Indiana Jones" world are a far cry from the ones who inhabited his Academy Award-winning "Schindler's List", but the unspoken menace posed by a Nazi Germany in possession of the Ark was enough to move Indiana Jones into action.

After its initial run, the film had grossed an astonishing $384 million dollars (1981 dollars) worldwide. When adjusted for inflation, this puts it at #16 on the list of all-time blockbusters (where #1 is "Gone with the Wind"). Spielberg and Lucas reunited twice more for sequels to the original, but neither sequel came close to matching the masterpiece that was "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Whenever someone asks me to name my favorite films, "Raiders" is always close to the top.

It is now 10 pm, but writing this entry has made me want to watch "Raiders." Catch you later!

Scenes from Hammond, IL

The event: law students wasting loan money at the casino boats (Horseshoe Casino, in this case)

Pre-party: at the White Castle just south of the casino. It is a surreal experience being so close to Gary, Indiana dining at a White Castle staffed by elderly matronly workers while Jimmy Buffet plays overhead.

The action: The roulette wheel. The roulette wheel is gambling in its purest form. Will a small marble hit on any one of 36 numbers (38 with 0 and 00)? I was advised to "bet on black." Within 2 spins I had doubled my stake. I kept half of it on black and again doubled my stake. Now, at this point, wisdom would have dictated me to remove my money and walk away. I did not do it soon enough and walked away with nothing. The bigger benefit was watching how one of my buddy placed bets. He ended up $400 ahead for the evening through conservative betting and always removing his stakes. I know what to do when I go to Vegas-follow him around and bet as he does (although the one time I tried it last night, neither of us won).

Disheartened, I sat back and became an observer. The casino boats are nasty places, with a thick haze of stale cigarette smoke and blue collar people using their pay checks to buy gambling chips. At the same time, the action in the air was palpable, but the Horseshoe was not a favorite. Next time, the Majestic Star will be the destination if I can handle it.

Or maybe I will just be smart and not bet at all!

Another (typically) unremarkable Academy Award year

I love films. No-strike that-I love MOVIES. As anyone who reads this blog with any regularity can attest, I look forward to films like no one else does. I track my favorite productions and decide on whether they will be "opening night" necessities or Saturday morning movies. I watch a lot of movies every year, and I think that I can trace my love affair with movies to my senior year in high school. That summer brought the first "Batman" film, "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," "Lethal Weapon 2", "Parenthood," and "License to Kill." The previous year's Academy Award winner for Best Film was "Rain Man," a film that I did not see until the May after the Awards season. I still remember being blown away by Dustin Hoffman's performance as Raymond.

My move to college brought an even greater love of film. I discovered the wonders of independent cinema at the Vinegar Hill Theater in Charlottesville. I remember seeing EVERYTHING when it came out, no matter how bad ("Wired") or how good ("Born on the Fourth of July") they were. 1990 was also the first year that I started watching the Academy Awards. I had reached an age where I could see the films before they were released (Mom and Dad never allowed my brother and me to watch "R" rated films, so I had to wait until I was 17-seriously), and "Born on the 4th" was a great film for a kid who had just started college.

It lost to "Driving Miss Daisy."

Now, don't get me wrong, "Driving Miss Daisy" is a perfectly good film, but BEST PICTURE? Sure, if you were voting on the movie of the week. Thus, my love-hate affair with the Academy voters began. There were years where their selections made perfect sense ("The Silence of the Lambs" in 1991, "Unforgiven" in 1992, "Schindler's List" in 1993, and "Forrest Gump" in 1994. Even "Braveheart" in 1995 was acceptable, as it is a film that still stands the test of time (with my only beef being how the film plays fast and loose with the facts on William Wallace).

1996, however...YUCK. See, 1996 was where the great campaigns of the Weinstein Brothers, then the heads of Miramax, first began. For the Weinsteins, the film was secondary to the marketing. If you could market the film in a way to convince everyone (even those who had not viewed the film) to vote the film Best Picture, it was worth a few million dollars at the box office. 1996 was the year "The English Patient" won Best Picture. Huh? Yup, this piece of tripe beat out "Fargo", the film that deserved Best Picture. I blame Harvey Weinstein.

1997 gave us "Titanic," and I think that the Academy really had their eye on the world's reaction to this film. The Awards show that year set ratings records as the millions of fans who made the film the highest grossing film of all time tuned in to see it clean up in awards..but no in any of the acting categories. That would have been ludicrous. Sadly, the film beat out both "L.A. Confidential" and "As Good as It Gets" for Best Picture. The other 2 nominees were "The Full Monty" and "Good Will Hunting", thereby establishing one sad fact-the weakest of the 5 films won that year.

1998 was the year the fit hit the shan. That was the year that "Shakespeare in Love" won Best Picture. I guess that Harvey figured that he lost on "Good Will Hunting" the previous year because he had not spent enough cash to buy the votes. Here, the Miramax machine pulled out all stops to make John Madden's film the winner. Once again, the weakest of the 5 films won. Spielberg, the director of the best film that year, "Saving Private Ryan," had to be content with winning Best Director. The other 3 films? Roberto Begnini's film "Life is Beautiful", "Elizabeth", and "The Thin Red Line." I put it to you that, of these 5 films, only "Saving Private Ryan" stands the test of time.

In 1999, the Academy got it right. "American Beauty" won. 'Nuff said.

What I noticed over the years is that the Academy ebbs and flows with its Best Picture winners. For every deserving winner ("The Return of the King"), we are faced with films that are utterly forgettable ("Million Dollar Baby"). While the films that win may be OK in their own right, not all rise to the level of "timeless classics". Does this mean that filmmaking quality is going down? Does it mean that we, as an audience, are satisfied with less?

I mean, look at what audiences in the late 1960s and early 1970s had as their choices for Best Picture:

1967:
Bonnie and Clyde
In the Heat of the Night
The Graduate
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
Doctor Doolittle (OK, a weak one)

1971
The French Connection
A Clockwork Orange
The Last Picture Show
Fiddler on the Roof
Nicholas and Alexandra

1972
The Godfather
Cabaret
Deliverance
Sounder
The Emigrants

1974
Chinatown
The Conversation
The Godfather Part II
Lenny
The Towering Inferno (the only "huh?" movie of the bunch)

Do you see what I mean? Let us conclude this with 1975

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Jaws
Nashville
Barry Lyndon
Dog Day Afternoon

In one year, you had Lumet, Kubrick, Spielberg, Altman and Forman as the directors of the best films. Wow. What happened to years like that, where all of the films were destined to become classics. I predict that within a few years, few people will remember "No Country for Old Men." it simply is not remarkable to the same level as a masterpiece like "Chinatown", a film that LOST the Best Picture award to another masterpiece, "The Godfather Part II." Maybe we will see a return to the days when masterpieces, those films that stand the test of time, will fill every slot for Best Picture. I hope so. There is a reason why this year's awards had such low ratings-people just did not care enough about the movies. Has Hollywood lost touch with the audience? Stay tuned...

Note, of the 5 films nominated for Best Picture, I saw 4 of them. I do not consider any of them classics, but I enjoyed "Juno", "There Will Be Blood", and "Michael Clayton". I recognize "No Country for Old Men" as a technically amazing film that is incredibly well acted, but I still think it fails due to a weak final act.

Customer Service???

Whatever happened to excellent customer service? Is the failure of workers in service heavy industries more of an indictment of the industries or the servers themselves? When did it become OK for servers to demand tips for merely doing their jobs? I will regale you with 3 examples of what I consider good and bad customer service.

Part One: A Portrait of the Blogger as a Young(er) Man

When in graduate school, I was gainfully employed at Toys R Us. I worked there for 6 years, enough time to get vested in their 401 K plan! Employees at TRU at the time did not receive discounts, worked long hours, and exerted their efforts for pay that was close to minimum wage. We had to endure screaming kids, the parents who spoiled them and let them run wild in the store while they berated us, and piped-in music that seemed to repeat every 4 songs (if I heard "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" once during a shift, I would hear it 20 times..no exaggeration). The employees even turned off the speaker in the breakroom, as those fleeting moments were the only ones where we could enjoy a brief respite from the music.

Even then, the one thing that I would enjoy was trying to make a kid and/or their parent happy. It was not because there was a monetary reward for doing it and it was not because the parent or child was a friend of mine; it was a chance to see joy on someone else's face for a job well done. I was the guy who would crawl throughout the storeroom to find that last EZ Bake Oven during the holidays. I was the one who would counsel kids on which Star Trek figure to buy based on the difficulty of finding certain ones. I would counsel parents on which video games were appropriate and seek to educate myself on the games themselves in order to better serve them. The customers took notice of this, and soon they started seeking me out even on days where I was not on duty. They tended to buy more, and when we were out of stock they would actually wait until we were restocked in order to buy from our store. Everything was done with a smile, and never was there a tip taken (although numerous tips were offered). The reward was the knowledge that I was doing my job. There was no sense of entitlement, nor was there ever a feeling on my part that I was put upon. We all have choices; if we do not like our work, we should QUIT. No one is entitled to anything. During my time at TRU, I received numerous merit raises and customer service citation pins (keep in mind that I was only a part-time worker who was attending graduate school full time!). When I finally decided to quit, my manager sat me down and asked me what he could do to make me stay. I was flattered, but at the same time I was confused. I mean, everyone sees customer service as I do, right?

Part 2: Aaron's adventures with Best Buy

My friend Aaron loves his Xbox 360. something that I purchased for him a few years ago from my (then) favorite shopping outpost, Best Buy. Do you remember that Circuit City commercial? The one that starts off in a nameless parking lot with the wife telling the husband "we are only going in to get [batteries]. Nothing else, OK?" and the husband silently nods in agreement-only to start giggling like mad upon entering Circuit City and running down the aisles excitedly while the wife just shakes her head in exasperation? Well, that was me in Best Buy. When I bought the XBox for Aaron, I also purchased the replacement plan, which provides for an automatic replacement of your system at the store in the event something goes wrong with it. In retrospect, I was being pretty smart about it, as the "red rings of death" phenomenon (you Xbox owners know what I am talking about) was not yet widely known. Aaron's system died this past December, and he took it to his local Best Buy, the one located in North Olmsted, OH (do NOT shop there). He was informed that the systems were out of stock due to the holiday season. Aaron understood. For a solid month, he dutifully went there to try to get his system-only to be told each and every time that they were out of stock. But Artful, you may ask, why didn't they just hold one for him when they arrived? Because they told Aaron, a loyal BB customer, that it was against STORE POLICY to do this (nevermind that we had purchased the plan). At one point, he was told by an employee to return the system to Microsoft! WTF??? Were they going to refund the plan he had purchased? NO! The Microsoft return was the manufacturer's warranty that would result in 4 weeks without his system while it was being repaired, but he was entitled to a new system. The personnel never tried to special order a system for him nor were they able to offer suggestions. They refused to hold the systems when they were in stock, and they refused to call him when they arrived.

Last week, Aaron called other Best Buys and was told that there was one system left in the Parma store. He was in his car and at the store within 15 minutes. As he entered the store, someone was walking out of the store with the system tucked under his arm. WHAT? Aaron, my friend and pastor, and to his credit, lost it. He went in and raised heck with the manager, and the manager, to his credit, finally DID HIS JOB. HE called around to all Best Buys to find a system for Aaron and had it shipped directly to the store. My hope is that Aaron is playing with the system as we speak. Still-7 weeks to fix an issue, and the reason was that Best Buy's customer service, in general, has started to fail. A shame, really. They used to be so awesome. Where has customer service gone.

Part 3: Tip jars at service counters.

AAARGGH!!! What the heck is up with these? Fast efficient service with a smile is what these ppl (baristas, fast food clerks, etc) are paid salaries for. What is up with the tip jar? I hate the virtual "holding the hand out" that accompanies my visits to Starbucks. Truth be told, I would be more inclined to give tips where there was NO tip jar. I have also never witnessed anyone adding anything significant to the jar save a few pennies.

Customer service, people! We should demand it!

Now, excuse me while I place a coffee mug for tips on my desk....

Kids are Stupid

When I was young, I used to revel in the wonder that was winter. I looked forward to snow days, building snowmen in the yard with my parents, and that wonderful sensation of feeling bitterly cold while outside and then walking into the warmth of the heated kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate waiting for me on the table. My brother and I would get into snowball fights and try to maneuver our 10-speeds (God I am old) through the thick snow (1"-hey, we were in Southern VA) that covered our little cul-de-sac. Winters were great, I thought. So different from the bugs and mugginess of summer. I loved being able to "see my breath" because I could pretend I was smoking with none of the unhealthy aftereffects.

This morning, it took me 10 minutes to yank open my car door (frozen). I then had to put the car into first gear (manually) because of the ice under the car that had accumulated, and I still ended up rocking the car free for about 5 minutes. The interior windows of my car were crisscrossed with ice lines, and my interior did not warm up until I reached work, at which point I had to exit the car into subzero windchills. As I waited to cross the street, with the icy wind chilling me to the bone, I "saw my breath" and was reminded of happier times when, as a child, I thought winter was awesome!

Kids are stupid.

This must be meme week...

Hello all..wow, 2 posts in as many days. I must really have a lot of time on my hands, huh? Actually, I have been "tagged" by Daisy to participate in the meme. What is a meme? From what I can gather, it is like a chain letter for bloggers. The rules are:


The blogger must post about the meme and link back to the person who tagged them. The blogger must then peruse his or her archives and link to 5 favorite posts pertaining to 5 delineated topics.

Link One: must be about family
Link Two: must be about friends
Link Three: must be about yourself
Link Four: must be about something you love
Link Five: can be anything you choose.


Hmm..most of the best stories about my family deal with the misadventures my older brother and I had while growing up (2 brothers + small town = boredom). I think the best illustration of our adventures and the reactions of Mom and Dad can be found here.

As for my friends, I tend not to blog about their adventures too much. First of all, many of my friends are bloggers themselves, so the internet audience already gets a taste of our collective adventures. Secondly, many of my friends who do not blog happen to read the blog, so I rarely write for fear of violating "friend privacy." At the same time, I try to recognize my friends for their many acts of kindness on my behalf. First and foremost are my friends in Cleveland.

Something about me...well, I tend to be a bit of a bore, but I sometimes try to be insightful. I am not very good at self analysis. When I do try self analysis, what results is something that may overlap with the other categories herein. For example, this post...

Something that I love..well, that covers a lot of territory. I write about movies quite a bit on my blog, so this entry and the next will probably cover the same territory. For example, my Superman Returns review received quite a bit of attention but no comments (strange). It was my first attempt at combining my interests in comics and film, and what resulted was a piece that I edited several times before publishing. It remains my 2nd-most favorite entry. Even if you did not care for the movie or comics, you might like it.

My favorite post? Well, that would HAVE to be the post that received the most comments from those who are not within my circle of friends. This post combined my memories of family times, the development of my love for movies, and a movie review all in one. It is also an entry that I still re-read from time to time. You can find my favorite entry here.

Sadly, this part of Daisy's chain (heh heh) must end here, for all of my blogger friends have been tagged for this particular meme by others. I was thinking of tagging Lucy, but she has just started blogging. Consider this a plug for her site then!

Happy reading, all!

A few of my blogging friends

With the addition of Legal Lucy to my list of fun blogs to read, I thought that I might use this opportunity to acquaint you all with some interesting blogs that might help you procrastinate-er-pass the time in between the long stretches where I have not blogged.

First of all, we have the queen of the blogosphere, Daisy from Legally Blonde Ambition. Daisy is a dear friend of mine who I met in law school. She has a great sense of humor and deals with every day issues with a sigh and a determination to make things better for herself and for those around her. She has a big heart, and her devotion to her friends is second to none. She is my movie going buddy during the summer, she works for a Big Professional Law Firm in Chicago, and she will be graduating law school with me this year. She and her friend Scarlett started their blog many moons ago, and while Scarlett has had to move away from blogging, Daisy has doggedly kept the blog going. She has devotees from New York to LA, and her entries are wonderful takes on the human condition and the little things in life that should, or should not, matter. I highly recommend her blog with your morning coffee.

Next, we have the Namby Pamby, Attorney-at-Law. The Namby Pamby is living the dream. He graduated from law school, passed the bar with flying colors, and is an attorney here in the city. I became acquainted with his blog site through Daisy's and had the opportunity to meet the man in person soon after. He is one of those guys who everyone wants at their get togethers. Great stories, great sense of humor, and insightful beyond his years. His blog entries are short observations on the absurdity of the human condition, and most of the time he is the one who is suffering from the absurdity. His blog is best enjoyed during the morning coffee break/in between classes, as it provides a much needed mid-morning pick-me-up.

Following the Namby Pamby, I must mention the Wayward Esquire. Like the Namby Pamby, the WE graduated law school, passed the bar with flying colors, and is living the dream as an attorney in Chicago. The WE is a devoted sports fan, an avid sailor (who has some amazing stories of his adventures), and a dude who always wants to learn and always wants to teach. I kind of think he would make a pretty darned good law professor some day. I met the WE during a dinner party last summer, and though I hardly see him, we have great conversations when I do. He is a pretty cool dude. His blog features stories that he has gathered from around the world wide web, thereby giving his blog a "ripples in the pond" effect. When you want some interesting insight on what is going on in our world, visit the Wayward Esquire.

My next goto blog is run by my friend and sometime dining companion Anonymous Hottie (Daisy coined the nickname, and who am I to change it?). Her thoughts can be found on Murphy's Law. Murphy is the name of AH's amazing black lab who has a fondness for Fat Tire. AH is the champion of the downtrodden, the one who looks out for those rights that we all take for granted. She a fellow law student and a non-radical feminist (meaning a feminist who does not frighten people but educates them). She has a bohemian outlook towards life, and she has a great "let me see where the day takes me" attitude about live. Usually, those days take her to her sofas in the evening, where she can be found watching reality TV while noshing on champagne and brie. Like Daisy, AH is a very attractive blonde who is not snooty about it. She can hang with the guys and the girls. While many of her blog entries are light and airy, a few of them deal with more serious issues. My recommendation is to make AH an evening read so that you can take in the serious nature of some of her blogs. When she features her "Song of the Day," it should be read in the morning right after Legally Blonde Ambition.

Through AH, I because acquainted with her friend Eddie. I do not know why, but I feel a certain sense of camaraderie with Eddie. I think it is because he and his wife live in Baltimore, my stomping grounds of most of the 1990s. When Eddie is regaling us with stories about the city streets, I can visualize those same streets. When AH visits Eddie, I am always loading her down with lists of restaurants where she and Eddie MUST dine. Eddie's blog entries, like mine, are more substantial than most, and they cover a whole litany of subjects. His blog, I feel, is best enjoyed in the evening as well or early in the morning to start the day (if for no other reason than to have the time needed to really take in the entry). He is a relative newcomer to the blogosphere, but I have already put him on my daily "must-read" list.

This brings me to the final member of my circle of blog friends, Legal Lucy. As with Daisy and AH, LL is (shockingly) an attractive blonde law student. I first met Lucy the fall of my first year of law school, but we did not become friends until the spring. I met Linus at that time too, and I must say that they make a wonderful couple. They balance each other out quite well, have many of the same interests, and have a wonderful outlook on life. Lucy is a great person who is just as comfortable hanging out with the guys watching the NBA (she is a Pistons NUT) as she is hanging out with the girls having cocktails. She is also quite intelligent, and if that Fortune 50 company she works for is smart, they will give her a permanent position soon. I am glad that she is blogging, as we have not hung out together as much as we used to. Her first blog entry was a winner, and I hope that she continues to blog.

Happy Reading!

Super Bowl Observations

As with many people who reside outside of the Northeastern United States, I am not a fan of either team. For many people, this means that their Super Bowl viewing consists of watching the latest and greatest commercials rather than on focusing on the game at hand. Me? I try to root for a team with an intriguing storyline. My choices this year were the New England Patriots and the New York Giants.

First of all, I analyzed reasons why I should root for the Patriots. Rooting for the Patriots in football has come to be synonymous with rooting for the Yankees in baseball. It is EASY to root for them because you kind of KNOW they are going to win. There is no danger of your heart being yanked out and pummeled so long as the coolly efficient Tom Brady is under center and Wes Welker, Randy Moss, and Kevin Faulk are on offense. The Patriots were 18-0 going into the Super Bowl, and when my father called me on Super Bowl Sunday, I told him that, though I was rooting for the underdog Giants, it looked to be an impossible task for those Giants to win. I told my father, confidently, that the Patriots would win. My father, on the other hand, an individual who does not follow football at all, opined that the Giants would prevail. I kind of dismissed his assertion, but I was most surprised by my own reaction. I had not realized until that moment that I was rooting for the Giants. All I knew was that a Patriots win would finally make Mercury Morris and the rest of the overrated undefeated 1972 Dolphins shut up-I mean, that would be worth it for the Patriots to go 19-0, right? The Giants were not that much of an underdog, were they?

Actually, they were. No team in the NFC had ever won 3 games on the road as a wild card to win the Super Bowl. No wildcard NFC team had EVER won a Super Bowl, as a matter of fact. These Giants lost their playmaking tight end, Jeremy Shockey, to a broken leg during the regular season and their all pro running back, Tiki Barber, to retirement at the end of last season. Michael Strahan, their marquee defensive end, was on the decline. Eli Manning was the younger brother of the best QB in the NFL and years away from seriously contending for a Super Bowl title. These Giants had lost 6 games in the regular season, many of those (including the season finale to these very same Patriots) at home.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the playoffs. The Giants defense started to play like the defense of the '85 Bears. Eli gained confidence and starting leading the team. Rather than just being told to minimize mistakes, Kevin Gilbride, the Giants offensive coordinator, started trusting Eli to make plays. Eli rediscovered Amani Toomer and renewed his productive relationship with Plaxico Burress. The Giants were eminently watchable during the playoffs. They played smart and dominating football. They defeated the best teams in the NFL on the road. They played like a team. Maybe getting Shockey and his "me first" mantra out of the locker room helped. Maybe removing the unmotivated and disinterested Tiki Barber helped. Maybe Tom Coughlin's change in coaching philosophy this season helped. Maybe the emergence of Bradshaw and Jacobs as a potent 1-2 rushing combination helped. Maybe the emergence of Boss as a goto tight end (who may just be better than Shockey) helped. Definitely the emergence of the defense as a suffocating force helped. I think that a combination of all of these aforementioned elements culminated in a perfect storm that started at 6:25 EST.

At game time, the Giants were 12 point underdogs. During the game, the Patriots came out tight and the Giants came out confident. Although the game remained at 7-3 for the longest time, in retrospect the outcome should never have been in doubt. What teams successfully held the Patriots to numerous 3 and outs during the regular season? None. What teams kept the Patriots to a single TD in a half (with that TD aided by a pass interference call)? None. Who knew that Eli Manning could rise above the New York media and rabid fan base to turn into the second coming of Peyton? I doubt that even Peyton could have scrambled as Eli did in completing that 35 yard bomb in the 4th quarter on 3rd and 5 (and Tyree deserves a LOT of credit for pinning that catch to his helmet on his way down to the turf).

In the end, the Patriots were a part of history. This is: the first time that 2 brothers have been Super Bowl MVPs, the first time that 2 brothers who were QBs were Super Bowl MVPS, and the first time one brother was a Super Bowl MVP the year after the second brother was a Super Bowl MVP. I guess that was a history the Patriots did not want any part of, but history is history.

Oh, and most 4 year olds are better losers than Bill Belichick. Grow up, dude.

Random thoughts from a snowy walk to work in the Windy City

One feels a small sense of victory when one runs into freshly shoveled/blown sidewalks the morning after a 12" snowfall. At the same time, one curses those lazy people who did not get up at 6 AM to make your morning walk to the el a bit more manageable. For shame, people!...

Curses to the cab drivers in the city who continue to speed down side streets-regardless of the fact that such speeding sprays sludge on innocent pedestrians standing YARDS AWAY.

Tile sidewalks are slippery when wet.

Damn Starbucks! They are phasing out their awesome breakfast sandwiches.

In the future, when there is a major snowstorm and I have to sit in on a deposition in the morning, I will be sure to call the managing attorney to make sure that the dep is, in fact, actually happening. That would prevent me from lugging a garment bag through snowclogged streets and onto the El, irritating several El passengers because of my bulky bag, and changing in my office (just to keep the suit nice). Thanks, Rich!

I would much rather be home playing Stranglehold on the PS3.

In Brightest Day....

Sorry for the long delay in posting, everyone. I was suffering from some writer's block, but now I have decided to write about anything that I might be currently obsessing about. Today, I am thinking about comic books. As many of my friends and family know, I am a comics and science fiction fan. Those of us who enjoy comics and science fiction are often (unfairly) painted with a broad brush as being uncool, strange, and out of touch with real life. I put it to everyone who has ever made fun of a nerd-what is the definition of real life? Are my interests any less important to yours? Have you ever picked up a comic in recent years (and NO, watching movies starring comic characters does not even count)? If you took the time to look through the collection of graphic novels at your local Barnes and Noble or Borders, you might be surprised at what you find. By their very definition, comics represent graphic serial storytelling. It is an artistic medium that, like most media, have its shares of highs and lows. The problem is that many choose to focus on the lows. I shall endeavor to educate you on some of the highs, starting with my favorite comic character, one who may not be familiar to most of you.

Hal Jordan.

No? No recognition? Well how about this name:

Green Lantern

Ahh...I can detect a faint glimmer or recognition, but do you know who he is and what he is all about? Do you know what drives him? Do you know why he is the most famous (and infamous) of all of the Green Lanterns (yes, there are others)?

Hal Jordan was a test pilot, a fearless (this is important) and sometimes reckless (also important) member of the Ferris Aircraft Corporation. Hal's father was also a test pilot for Ferris, and Hal, as a boy, witnessed his father's death when the plane he was flying crashed, but only after the elder Jordan had remained at the controls to make sure that bystanders were not injured. One day, the adult Hal was in a flight simulator when, suddenly, it was yanked from its stationary moorings and propelled into the desert (somewhere in California) to the site of a crashed spaceship. Hal, being the fearless person that he is, entered the spaceship to investigate. Inside, he found Abin Sur, an interstellar policeman assigned to Sector 2814, which included the planet Earth. Abin Sur told Jordan that Sur's power ring, under programming that triggered when its wearer was near death, had scoured the planet for a worthy replacement, a man without fear. The ring had chosen Hal Jordan. Abin Sur told Jordan of the Green Lantern Corps, the band of policemen who patrolled space to protect the innocent. He told Jordan that the ring's power would only last for 24 hours, at which time it had to be recharged using a power battery that always remained with its Green Lantern. Furthermore, the ring had only one weakness-it was powerless against any items within yellow spectrum. All 3,000 + Green Lanterns report to the Guardians of the Universe (now, I wonder if they gave themselves that name? What hubris!!), the blue skinned denizens of the planet Oa. Oa was the center of the universe, the headquarters of the Green Lantern Corp, and location of the Central Power Battery, the power source that imbued the Lantern's rings with their powers. With that, Abin Sur died and Hal Jordan's adventures began.

Why is Green Lantern my favorite character? There are myriad reasons. First of all, no fewer than 4 individuals have been the ring bearer for Sector 2814: Hal Jordan, John Stewart (who, along with Black Lightning, is DC Comics longest-lived African-American super hero), Guy Gardner, and Kyle Raynor. Secondly, the power ring is the single coolest item in comics (and yes, that includes the Batmobile). The power ring can create green energy forms of anything its wearer visualizes (elephants, bats, wolverines, giant fists, buzzsaws, etc). The power ring also allows the bearer to fly and protects the bearer from physical harm. While the power ring is powered by the central power battery, the "on/off" switch for the ring is the bearer's will power, and it is here where the ring depends on the individual. Not everyone can be a ring bearer, for the amount of will power that it takes to activate the ring is far greater than that possessed by normal individuals. So, the ring gives you the powers of Superman but only if you can handle them. Third, the storylines. Although the "Oan" Corps has been around since the Silver Age of comics, continuity in the storytelling (aided by some inventive ret-conning) has been a hallmark of the Green Lantern comics. Indeed, in one storyline, Hal Jordan turned evil and went on a killing spree that left many fellow ring bearers dead. Rather than ignoring this storyline that was very unpopular with fans of the series, writers such as Geoff Johns embraced it as a challenge in their effort to resurrect Hal Jordan as the greatest of all Green Lanterns. Finally, Hal Jordan had the COOLEST villain of all, Sinestro of Korugar, an individual who was once viewed as the greatest of the Corp until Jordan uncovered the fact that he had used his powers to become a despot on his own planet. Sinestro was banished to the anti-matter universe of Qward, where the Weaponers of Qward fashioned another power ring for Sinestro, one powered by fear and whose energy was...YELLOW in color. You can see why this was so cool. Sinestro was, and is, a complex villain. He does not see what he does as something bad because all he wants is to bring order to the universe. He counts among the only two friends he as ever had Abin Sur and his replacement, Hal Jordan. Sinestro has been Jordan's adversary in many of the best Green Lantern stories.

Now, many of you who read this blog will not have any interest in learning more about the character or even reading the seminal graphic novels that have recently been released by DC Comics. If, by some chance, you do decide to learn more, might I recommend:

1. Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn
2. Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn II
3. Green Lantern: Emerald Twilight
4. Green Lantern: Rebirth
5. Green Lantern: the Sinestro Corp Wars.

Even though the aforementioned stories are amazing works of fiction, they still cannot do justice to the rich tapestry of stories that make up the Green Lantern universe. I even love the oath; it always sounded cheesy to me, but the fact that Hal continues to speak the oath when charging his ring reminds me of happier and more innocent times:

In brightest day, in blackest night
No evil shall escape my sight
Let those who worship evil's might
Beware my power-Green Lantern's light

Find out more about Green Lantern here.

Odds and Ends: November 20, 2007

A brief interlude again…and I promise that I will regale you all with my favorite story from my childhood (The Broken Closet Door Incident). Since this is supposed to be a blog from a law student, I thought that a law school centered post might be in order. In 2 weeks, classes will be over and I will enter my final semester of law school. It is hard for me to believe that the end of the trip is almost here. I often joke with my (much) younger classmates that I have been an eternal student. I tell them that I can just pay off my students loans with the SS checks I will be collecting soon after graduation, that my next stop is business school for my MBA, that an LLM would not be a bad idea. The truth is that I have reached the end of my educational goals. The goal of law school was formulated when I was in my second year of graduate school. While I knew that I enjoyed the scientific aspects of what I was doing, I also realized that society is not kind to scientists with respect to lifestyles. The career scientists I knew were married to their bench tops, and the competition for research dollars was frightening. When I considered that few grants ever get funded, and the government’s allocations for science spending (already shrinking prior to the military actions and military occupations of Afghanistan and Iraq) would only be getting ever smaller, I started to look for another way.

I enjoy patent law. It provides me the opportunity to engage the science part of my mind while at the same time providing me with a more secure occupation. I have found a wonderful firm to work for. I enjoy the atmosphere, the mentorship, and the assignments that I receive. I cannot describe the elation that comes with FINALLY being able to do what I enjoy. Before law school, I had no idea that I would enjoy the work as much as I do. Now, I look forward to a lifetime of becoming a better patent attorney.

So what is ahead for me? Well, I am now looking for places to live after law school. My (VERY GENEROUS) older brother allowed me to live in a garden apartment in a building that he owns rent free while I was in school. I am looking for my first real home. Not an apartment, but my own space. I have the job that I want, so I know where I want to buy my home. While the collapse of the sub-prime market has not been kind to many people, it has opened the door to people like me who can now buy less expensively in a depressed market. I will also continue to clerk at my firm until I finish school. I only have 2 more classes to complete before the end.

Should I continue the blog after graduation? I will leave it up to you. Leave feedback! If I do not see feedback on this blog, I might just have to start another one under a different name.

Daisy and the Red Cups

Daisy is right.

Now, those of you who frequent Daisy’s blog may not always agree with that statement, but I must say that frequently, mixed in among the daily angst that is being Daisy, Daisy also offers a lot of insight into the basic fragility of the human psyche. To wit: Daisy’s fascination with the red cups.

Now, I am a scientist-turned-law student (soon to be lawyer). I try to always be on the side of reason and I try not to let myself be manipulated by such things as the commercialization of every single real and made up holiday. Christmas has always been different, and for this I blame by buddy Aaron. There is just something about Christmas that makes everyone cheerful even if the season consists of exams, a rapid last minute grab for presents for the loved ones, frantic trips to the airport, family in-fighting and the like. In spite of ALL of that, the season just seems to cheer people up.

This brings me back to Daisy. Daisy had enormous insight into the importance of the red cups. Now, at first, upon reading of Daisy’s obsession, I was much like Charlie Brown in the classic “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” I mean, what could represent a grosser example of Christmas commercialization than the idea that the color of the cups from a coffee colossus now signals the beginning of the holiday season? I chuckled when I read Daisy’s column (as I often do), but then I reflected a bit on her excitement over seeing the red cups. I am proud to say that I now understand and, like, Daisy, have been converted into believing in the value of the commercial Starbucks red cups.

It is not so much that I embrace the commerciality of it all, but it has more to do with finding joy in the smallest places. Daisy’s ability to find pockets of happiness from no more than the color of a coffee cup is a reminder that we should all be so quick to find joy in what is often a cold world. This morning I was on my way into the firm, and I noticed a person walking out of a Starbucks with a red cup. I felt a flush of happiness, and with my heart racing (literally..I know, weird..but I had a rush of happiness) I entered the Starbucks to find it decorated for Christmas, the menus converted to the Christmas offerings, and the workers joyfully going about their business. I immediately ordered a fat free egg nog latte (YES! Here until New Years!), and I was thrilled to see it delivered in a red cup. I do not know what it was, but EVERYONE in the Starbucks today seemed to have a little more joy in their step. Could it be that the red cup, signifying the advent of Christmas, was solely responsible for this infectious cloud of happiness on a chilly Chicago morning? I would like to think so. It was the perfect way to begin my day, and I think that it will be a great one because of it.

Thanks, Daisy. Your little post about your joy in finding red cups has made me believe that a little injection of commercialism into the Christmas spirit can supersede that commercialism and become something more in the hearts of those of us who want to find a little happiness where we can.

A New Movie Review: "Across the Universe"

I grew up in the time of the LP. LP means long playing record, and I feel that I must describe it as such for all of my classmates born in the 1980s (yikes!). My parents had their collection of LPs (Andy Williams, Wayne Newton, Glen Campbell, and various movie musical scores), and as my brother and I were growing up, we started to look for LPs of our own. At the home of one of our parents’ friends, we noted some really COOL LPs (Village People, Doobie Brothers, the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack (hey, it was the 1970s!), but the coolest of the LPs was a double LP with a red border that had, as the photo on the cover, a group shot of some young men. The album was “The Beatles: 1962-1966”-the eponymous “red album.” It served as my introduction to the Beatles. From “Love Me Do” to “Yellow Submarine,” the Beatles red album was instrumental in introducing me to the world of classic rock music by the #1 band of all time. I was able to make my own cassette recording of the red album, and my brother and I listened to it until we wore the tape out. When the tape wore out, my brother requested a copy of the red album for his very own. Now, to this day, I do not know if my parents knew what they were doing when they “messed up” and bought the “wrong album,” but that mistake was going to introduce me to the Beatles during their most imaginative and inventive years. They decided to buy “The Beatles: 1967-1970”-the “blue album”.

All these many years later, I can still remember my brother putting the album into the huge console stereo, and the sounds of “Strawberry Fields” emanating from the mono speakers. As a youngster I preferred the more upbeat or hi energy tunes, but I recognize now that I did not understand many of the songs’ lyrics. I loved “Penny Lane,” “With a Little Help From My Friends,” “Revolution,” “Something” (a little slow, but I LOVED the bridge), “Let it Be,” “Across the Universe,” and “Hey, Jude.” I still remember being confused by some of the lyrics of “I Am the Walrus” (Sitting on a cornflake? What is an eggman anyway?). I remember that each LP was packed in a sleeve that had the lyrics for each song printed in order. While I was confused by the lyrics, the MUSIC really moved me. The Beatles were constant during my adolescent years even though my formative years were marked by Madonna and Michael Jackson in the beginning, U2 in the middle, and Pearl Jam and Nirvana near the end). As I grew older, I read more about the Beatles and I came to understand some of the lyrical choices that they made. I was also amazed with the quantum leaps the Beatles seemed to make from their earliest albums through their later ones. I can only imagine the excitement with which the release of “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band” was greeted. I remember thinking it poignant when I found out that McCartney had written “Hey Jude” for Julian Lennon (originally called “Hey, Jules”).

Life went on, and my musical tastes varied, but the songs that I had listened to so many times had become ingrained in my mind. In retrospect, I suppose I did listen to the blue album many many (many) times during my formative years. The reason for this was that my brother’s and my LP collection at the time consisted entirely of 3 albums: the blue album, Kiss: Alive II, and Elvis Sings Hits From His Movies. I am not kidding. So my childhood was marked by constant listens to THOSE…THREE….ALBUMS. Thank God for the Beatles.

Since my childhood, there has not been a day where I just kicked back and listened to the Beatles. After my experience last Friday night, I am happy to report a change in my listening habits-a change that will now include daily doses of the Fab Four. In honor of her birthday, my dear friend and fellow blogger Jess and I went to see the new Julie Taymor musical film, “Across the Universe.” Jess is a HUGE music fan. As a matter of fact, she is to music as I am to movies (for all of you SAT fans who are missing the now defunct analogy section). I suppose the best way to describe the film is an amalgamation of “Moulin Rouge” (love story) with “Forrest Gump” (following characters during one of the most turbulent times in our nation’s history-the 60s). How could such a creation possibly be held together? The common glue turned out to be the music of the Beatles. However, this was not just a matter of the Beatles lending their songs to the production-this was a film where the characters sang the classic tunes, and the songs were woven into the tapestry of the story itself. I was into the film from the opening shot of the main character, a Liverpudlian named Jude, sitting on a beach singing. From the names of the characters (Jude, Lucy, Jojo, Prudence), I could kind of tell which songs were going to be used, but I did not know exactly when. Equally as fun was trying to guess WHICH of the songs from the Beatles rich musical catalog would be used. I heard many of my favorites as well as some songs that I had never heard before. One of the highlights of the film (for me) was a psychedelic rendition of “I Am the Walrus” by a character played by a famous pop star of today. No, I will not tell-for that would be spoiling, but wow..what a performance.

I am struggling with the review, because the Beatles songs were what made the movie, but part of the fun of a first viewing is not knowing WHICH songs will play and WHEN the songs will play. I can highlight the major plot as a love story between a wandering Liverpudlian shipworker and the daughter of a privileged American family during the 60s. The film, however, is much, much more. To be sure, there are weaknesses. Julie Taymor intersperses strange moments of “alternate reality” throughout the film, much like Baz Luhrmann did in Moulin Rouge with his “Green Fairy” sequence. Thankfully, these strange sequences are few and far between as they proved to detract from the central story. Taymor also succeeds by having the principle actors actually sing the songs in the actual scenes without any looping. I also appreciated the fact that the cast was not populated with well known actors who might have otherwise distracted from the story in an “Oh, look, Nicole Kidman is singing a Beatles song” kind of way.

In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed this film, and I cannot wait to see it again. Of course, this is coming from a casual Beatles fan. If you are not a Beatles fan, I would still encourage you to check this movie out. You might change your mind by the end.

The Adventure of Sam the Siamese Cat

So after a long respite, the tales of Artful and his older brother continue. The setting? 1980 or thereabouts (geez..I am really getting up there). The place? Our childhood home in Suffolk, Virginia. The Event? The Adventure of Sam the Siamese Cat.

Our childhood home was built somewhere in the 1950s. I remember it being rather dark (no skylights or anything) and being spread out in a ranch style way. Our house was situated at the end of a cul de sac. A large man-made pond was near the front of the house beyond our patio and front lawn. The back of the house was severely sloped, and the slope ended in the waters of Lake Meade, a large and meandering lake in Suffolk that was dammed off from the Nansemond River. Because of our location, our yard was a breeding ground for wild creatures. There were numerous birds nests, rabbit warrens, gopher holes, and beaver nests situated all around our yard. When we ventured out into the yard or in the neighboring areas, we had to be careful lest we step on a snake. Yes, we had lots of snakes on the property, and I am not just talking about the harmless ones. We were just as likely to run into a water moccasin or a copperhead (BAD snakes) as we were to run into a black snake or a garter snake (good snakes). In addition to the wildlife outside, the warmth of our attic made it an attractive gathering place for squirrels and mice (and the occasional snake, judging from some of the skins that we would find up there).

To combat the growing number of mice in the attic and the basement, my parents tried mouse traps galore, but none seemed to work. They then decided that the only way to defeat the pests was by getting a cat. Now, we had only had one other pet up until this point, Sandy the German Shepherd, who had long since departed the premises. My brother and I were excited over the prospect of getting another animal. We had been quite close to Sandy, and we were glad that our parents were lifting their edict against more pets. The day arrived for picking up the cat. We went to the local A.S.P.C.A. and looked over the offerings. Both my brother and I found cats that we really liked, ones who were friendly and liked us as well. Unfortunately, my parents had decided to get a Siamese cat that was also there.

Have you ever seen “Lady and the Tramp”? Unless you are a rich dowager, you should not get a Siamese cat. At least, that is my opinion.

For my brother and me, however, it did not matter. We were excited over the prospect of getting the cat (any cat). Sam the Siamese (my parents were not terribly creative with their naming of the cat) arrived at our home, and we did everything we could to make sure that the cat was welcome. We put out the cat toys, put him in the litter box to make sure that he knew where it was (in the utility/laundry/furnace room), and made sure that Sam would not irritate our parents in any way. There was one thing we found out, however, rather quickly. Sam was sick. Now, he was not sick in a “dying, poor thing” kind of way. He was sick in a “chronic diarrhea/vomiting” kind of way. It was intestinal, and he had a sensitive stomach. Back then, however, there was no Iams or Science Diet. There was just Purina Cat Chow. We could not adjust his diet to make him feel better, and my parents did not know he was sick. My brother and I thought that, if they knew, he would go away. We, therefore, did everything we could to cover it up. But we were kids..how could we cover it up? I mean, Sam was pooping and vomiting everywhere in the utility room. It was only a matter of time.

The answer came in the form of an old school canister vacuum cleaner. Back in the days before the Oreck XL and the Dyson, vacuums had POWER. They could do anything. You still had to periodically clean out the canister, but otherwise, they could clean anything. We had 2 vacuums in the house: a newer Electrolux that was my Mom’s pride and joy and an older one that was kept-you guessed it-in the utility room.

Yup, my brother and I vacuumed up all evidence of Sam’s intestinal problems. Every…single….TIME….for a week.

Eventually, however, my parents realized that Sam was sick. I think that my brother and I, worried for the health of the poor cat, finally told my parents. My parents were upset that the ASPCA would send a sick cat home to 2 children, so they immediately (over the protestations of my brother and me) took Sam back. Sam was never to return.

Is this the end of the story? No, there is a little postscript. A few months later, our family was doing some spring cleaning. Mom had her Electrolux vrooming in the bedroom areas, so Dad decided to help out with the vacuuming in the common areas by using the older canister vacuum in the utility room..the one that had not been used since my brother and I had vacuumed away the evidence of Sam’s sickness. My brother and I watched silently as Dad wheeled it out, and we both breathed sighs of relief when it started working with no problems. Dad vacuumed for a while before the suction started to give out in the vacuum. Dad muttered something under his breath, and my brother (as smooth as can be) asked “Dad, what is wrong with the vacuum?” Dad responded that this old one would get clogged with dust regularly, and this was the reason why they had purchased the Electrolux and then….

My brother and I watched in silent horror as Dad proceeded to unscrew the housing cover for the canister, dip his hand into the capture area, and clean out the area. Did my brother an I say anything?

What do you think?

Did Dad figure it out? Let’s just say that my brother and I learned a lot about the masking qualities of vast amounts of dust and particulate matter.

You may commence with the dry heaving….now.