REVIEW: About Time

is a little film by the English fellow Richard Curtis, and addresses time travel, though not in the Stephen Hawking, Terminator, Dr. Who, or Primer sense.

(This contains almost no spoilers)

It is a little story about love in three distinct dynamics:

- a boy in love with a girl,*

- a son's relationship with his father (Bill Nighy in a role that will probably have me tearing up a bit more every time I see it),

- the eternal time travel questions of repeatable experiences: will repeating a first experience again for the first time make life better?

It's rather oddly structured as it moves around in time, often with huge leaps, and the logic is largely absent, as it is with most stories involving time travel. But - the best stories involving time travel usually find clever ways of making you not care about the logical fallacies, or address holes in such simple fashion that you can shrug, move along and enjoy the story without getting hung up on the feasibility. It ends up as more of a coming-of-age love story spanning decades that happens to have time travel as its catalyst than it is a time travel movie with a big idea and big villain. The butterfly effect scenarios are integral, of course, and conveniently ignore its own internal laws of TT (time travel). It owes a huge and obvious debt to Groundhog Day, though its tone is softer, sappier, and has red-haired people.

Quite enjoyed it. If you liked Frequency, Love, Actually, or movies with Rachel McAdams and beautiful houses overlooking English seashores and misanthropic supporting characters, then you might enjoy it too. Lovely, simple, sweet, funny, sentimental in the right places, and big important idea about life stuck in at the end.

Also, I try to keep track of who recommends film, books, and music to me, and I remember someone telling me two months ago that they thought I would enjoy this...but I do not remember who, and I am not done inventing my own time machine to go back and figure it out. Thank you, and my apologies. You can speak up now...

And by the way, they have to have spent a small fortune paying for the killer soundtrack. Somebody loves The Waterboys**.

*great chemistry with the leads

**huge fan here

MEILANI #24

Steve, Colette, Meilani, Jonny / photo: joseph ivan long ©2013

I remember the first time I met her. At an ice skating rink. She was about fifteen.

Nine years later, and I am so glad she is my vivacious, mischievous, one-of-a-kind sister-in-law. What a great addition to the family.

Happy b-day, Meilani.

RETURNING FROM BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION (SEE ABOVE) TWO HOURS AFTER BEDTIME. WITH SCIMITAR AND GRANDFATHER.

A CAPE, A DOLL, A SCIMITAR, ONE EXPLOSIVE LEAP INTO OBLIVION.

In our home, people are welcome to use the couches for sitting, as long as they're not being used by little people for jumping. That takes priority.

GAME OF.

photo: joseph ivan long ©2013

I will tell this in two parts:

A. Last month, my mom was hanging with our children and had them write up Christmas wishlists of what they would like to GET for other people. The list my son came up with included the following:

1. For Mommy - sword
2. For Daddy - sword
3. For Sissy - sword
4. For Granda - sword
5. For Everyone - sword
Sword for me. Scimitar. 

B. My newest brother, Micael, got ahold of this list and took it seriously. When Christmas rolled around, we each found ourselves in possession of a sword. Courtesy of him, a table saw, a jig saw, and a palm sander. And HOURS AND HOURS of work.

No two swords are the same. Hand cut, hand carved, designed with precision and polished for each personality. UHH-MAZING. I have already done fierce battle with mine, and these babies are not cracking. One piece. No glue, no joints, no nails. Forged in a garage. You think we had a happy three-year old at Christmas? Imagine a room full of three-year old giddiness. And flailing swordplay.

So. Rad. Micael: we are honored to have you in our family.

Ecraison l'infante.

IN DEFENSE OF WASTE.

My mom waves and waves when we leave. Every time. 

Just before we disappear out of sight, I look in the rearview mirror and she is in the distance, waving until the last moment. It is ridiculously inefficient, and there are so many more productive things she could be doing with those wasted seconds...and when you factor in the fact that it's not an occasional thing, it's an EVERYTIME thing, then those seconds turn into minutes and hours and probably days over the course of decades. The epitome of inefficiency; my suspicion has long been that she will never be asked to serve as the CEO of a Fortune 1000 company, and honestly, I think a lot of it has to do with her inability to be efficient with things like goodbyes.

I decided four years ago* I'm not interested in becoming somebody else's CEO either, and I am afraid she has infected a lot of people with her practices, which means I am surrounded by wastefulness. 

And now I wave and wave to the end too. One of my favourite things I have ever learned from my mom, despite the great obstacle it became to my professional goals. Wave hard, wave long, wave til the end. 

The end.

UPON THIS ROCK.

ART DIREKTOR IN FLIGHT>>>.

along the Portland waterfront by the muddy banks of the Willamette

One of the things I love about my little brother Jeremy is his enthusiasm for little things; an interest in finding tiny opportunities to make a memory.

"Hey, will you take a picture of me jumping over the bench while they're watching me with amazement?"*

So this is his vision. Credit him for art direction; me for keeping it somewhat in focus as the sun slinked behind the trees and said goodbye forever to Christmas 2013.

*I have put quotation marks around this statement, but in actuality, it is my memory of what he said, and probably not verbatim. I do not apologise.

SANTA IN ELEVATOR IN WHEELCHAIR.

MAY YOUR DAY BE JOLLY.

photo: joseph ivan long ©2013 (December 10) thanks Gorillapod.

Happy Christmas, universe!

OH CHRISTMAS TREE, OH JINGLE BELL ROCK, IN HOTEL BED.

YES, WE CAN VISIT YOU, BUT WE'LL ONLY BE ABLE TO STAY FOR A MONTH OR TWO.

Spent a delightful evening recently with friends. Our son had a long list of questions and observations. Ultra-condensed summary:

(begin quote-unquote):
Do they have a bathroom? I thought they didn't but they do. I didn't know they had toilet paper too! Hey, they have a door like us, did they take ours? Can we stay overnight? Can they share their toothbrushes with us? Can I have juice? Can I have an apple slice? Hey, I found money on the counter...can I keep it? Why do they have toys? Why do they have a bathtub? Hey, a LEGO boat, we don't have one of those! Are we going to watch a lot of movies here? 

And so on. Block off the old chip.

THE FAST AND THE FURY.

The only thing better than watching children experience the simple pleasures in life, like pushing elevator buttons, is racing ahead to push them first. Sometimes, when legging it down a long corridor with a six-year old in furious pursuit, I start to feel like an athlete again.

A winning athlete. Happy Montag, all.

LAST MINUTE REVISIONS OF THE ELVES.

He found an 1880s chaise longue today that he tried adding to the wishlist, but its $3,800 price tag seemed a trifle excessive, so we told him he'll have to stick to IKEA furniture for the time being. Poor lad. At least he still has his swords, sticks, staffs, scimitar, and writing buddy.

And a killer bathrobe.

THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING.

Toying with the idea of totally surprising my wife for Christmas this year...thinking either XBox 360 or Playstation 4. I think she would be surprised.

Also, my son just asked for a million dollars. 

Just gonna bite the bullet and do it. Shrieks of joy: coming up soon.

REALITY BITES.

My son is in existential conversation with his sister concerning relativity. The sad realization that he will never surpass her in age.

"But if I exercise and eat lots of food will I get older than you?"
he asks.

- "No,"
she replies kindly, but with relish.
"You MIGHT be bigger someday, but you'll NEVER be older. And MAYBE you'll be stronger than me, maybe, but probably not."

"But will I ever be OLDER than you?"

- "Never."

His face frumples, and I want to hold him and tell him it's gonna be okay, but it won't be okay, not really, because the truth is brutal and you learn to deal with the hand you're dealt, or borrow someone else's hand, which sometimes means being perpetually three years younger than your best mate and nemesis. 

"You will never be older than your sister,"
I confirm.
"Shall we have some chocolate now, and talk about Galileo?"

Life goes on. Happy hollyday.

SOMEDAY, THIS ADVICE MIGHT SAVE YOUR LIFE.

"If I was tied up, I would use my scimitar to cut the ropes."

- my son, age 3

So. Keep a scimitar on you at all times and you'll be fine in any sort of hostage crisis. Happy holidays.

HEY, THAT'S ONE OF MY FAVOURITE NUMBERS TWO! A BREAKFAST CONVERSATION WITH MY SON RECENTLY, IN WHICH HE DIALOGUES WITH MULTIPLE PEOPLE SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Him:
I actually like Princess Leia. She has a blaster. I don't like Darth Vader, he's bad. I haven't seen the Star Wars movie yet. Maybe when I'm six or eight. I hope six. Is fruit good for you? Does it have a lot of sugar? I drinks a lot of water. I'm going to eat lots of fruit so I can get stronger than Daddy. Did you know Granda is in the hospital? He is. We never finished watching Rapunzel. Do you want to come to my house? I have vitamins there. You can have a vitamin. Look at the funny Christmas tree! I like red lights.

Me:
I like those ones too! How many red Christmas lights do you think we'll see today?

Him:
I don't know. I don't have very many fingers to count with. I can only count to eight. Eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve.

Me:
Nice job counting. 

Him:
Yep. I can count to eight.

ELVES, PINK MARTINI, AND COLD CEREAL

GIMBEL'S MANAGER: Why are you smiling like that?
BUDDY: I just like to smile, smiling's my favorite!

Began the obligatory viewing of Elf this week.

Cold cereal with sugar on top seemed appropriate for supper.

____




Me and my buds doing some holiday shopping. Thomas is on the hunt for old sheet music; I am searching for old phones and vintage Fisher Price toys. My son, as always, has his eyes peeled for any type of sword, but particularly scimitars and daitōs. The hunt continues. Mazel tov, world!

KEEP THIS IN MIND: A BRIEF SUMMARY OF MY SON'S QUESTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS ON OUR COSTCO TRIP.

"I wish we lived at Costco. They have a lot of stuff. I love sugar. Can
I have a cookie please? Can we get a sample? Are these types of cookies good for my throat? Can we keep them in mind to buy? I really want to save up for a fire engine. Am I little or big? I'm scared of thunder and lightning but Sissy isn't. If I had a scimitar I would chop the lightning up. I sort of like soy milk, but mostly I like chocolate milk. When I'm six can I watch Batman? Hey! There's Despicable Me, we've only seen a preview, can I get it?"

- No.

"Okay, can we keep it in mind? Can I watch bad parts in movies when I'm three? Because I'm three now and if you're three then you're big. I wish I was a knight. My favourite kind of sword is a scimitar. Are burglars good or bad? I sort of like dolls. Can we get an American Girl toy? Can we keep it in mind? Hey! A dinosaur book! Spider-man drawing pencils! A bug set! Can we get them? ...

...or can we keep them in mind?"

- Yes.
I said, smiling.
We'll keep them in mind.

Happy Christmas, all. Be nice extra nice to people in long lines this week.


ABRAHAM HIPPOPOTAMUS LINCOLN LOG.

"Children,"

I began,
"in a rare moment of niceness, I just want to tell you how much - "

My son cut me off aggressively.
"Daddy, please don't say 'thank you for being wonderful kids' again. I'm tired of you saying that. Please don't say that we're wonderful anymore."

His sister assented.
I returned to my quiet reverie of driving and listening to them play Twenty Questions in which the answer was frequently either a hippopotamus or Abraham Lincoln.


Happy Mondays.

COUNTESS AND SON.

I don't care for the phrase 'a picture is worth a thousand words,' because it infers that a visual image is more valuable than language, and maybe it is occasionally, but I love books and Kurt Vonnegut way too much to support that notion in totality; however, if I was to put a price tag on this photograph I'd estimate its worth at right around a billion dollars. So yes, it is for sale. Cash.

I suppose there's a place in my heart for both. Also, a place in my heart for the two travelers in this image.

TRIO OF UNCLES WITH DUO OF ELVES.

In case you weren't aware, Anthropologie always has complementary cookies and punch around holiday season. Just in case you didn't know. Now you do.

And they are very nice to children, and uncles. Thanks.

PERSONS OF INTEREST.

FIVE SONGS I WILL ALWAYS ASSOCIATE WITH MY BROTHER JONNY.
1. Faithfully / Journey
2. I'll Be Your Shelter / Taylor Dayne
3. All My Life / K-Ci & JoJo
4. You're the Best / Joe Esposito (from the Karate Kid soundtrack)
5. Any power ballad that requires a voice able to reach the upper-upper octaves; a feat Jonny is usually willing to attempt in a sing-along. Respect.

Adorable, both.

Taking joy in living is a woman's best cosmetic. 
- Rosalind Russell, actress, who was also one of seven children.
____


(look at these people. man. they are beautiful. they must use the right cosmetic.) 

Merry, jolly, tuba-listening Christmas buddies.

OY VEY! THINGS THAT BROKE UP MY FROWN TODAY, AND NORTH KOREA.

1. Overheard: my son bragging about his wardrobe:

"...and this is my sweater that we bought at Goodwill."

2. 
Our children's newest addition to their working vocabulary: "oy vey."

Walking around muttering - and singing - "Oy vey! Oy vey...oy vey. Oy vey!!!"

(Which is, as we all know, basically a much livelier and interesting version of "oh dear!")

3. 
We were at a Christmas concert earlier tonight and something happened that just made me so happy: 

In the crowded church, someone's cellphone started ringing LOUDLY...and it was not anybody in my family!! Which meant I was free to enjoy the discomfort across the way as somebody not related to me scrambled to find the ringer button. Nice job, family. It wasn't us.

4. 
The concert itself was top-notch and featured a wide array of styles and instruments. One highlight, amongst many fantastic moments, was the energetic, enthusiastic, virtuoso piano accompaniments of Zachary White along with the gospel choir. A great reminder of how possible it is to bring raw joy into a spiritual environment and provide an uplifting, enjoyable, and thoroughly beautiful experience to the season. Great job, all of you. Zachary: keep those fingers moving and that head bobbing. Wonderful.

5.
Also, during this event, someone's pants fell down, which reminded me of the importance of a good belt or pair of suspenders, which my son was obviously not wearing.

His embarrassment was non-existent, which is a pretty cool thing. As you get older, you learn all kinds of stuff that's good to know, like mathematics and cinema and important disciplines like those, but you also learn dreadful stuff like how to get embarrassed, and that's so sad. I was envious of my son and his nonplussed response; I suppose there are definite advantages to being three.

5b. 
I'm often aware of the little things that differentiate generations; the shifts in behavior and communication that somehow just...happen. The easy response for the generation above to make is the classic "what's wrong with THESE kids; I wasn't like that."

My ongoing attempt - ATTEMPT - is to observe, analyze, process, try to understand, as opposed to passing judgment. But I'm also a product of the times and culture I grew up in. And I grew up without a cellphone. I have one now. I'm typing these words on it. But I'm not comfortable using it in "formal" settings - loosely speaking, church, meetings, etcetera. I'm more of a closet user, I suppose. Hop on in the early morning, jump on quickly at lunch, spend a bit of time at night after children are down. I TALK on it throughout the day. But as far as using for social functions...I'm self-conscious about being on my phone while somebody is up front talking or performing.

Now if you're my age (37) or older, then maybe you're applauding what I just wrote above and thinking something along the lines of: "well of course, it's just RUDE to be on your phone while somebody else is speaking up front." My intent is not to sound holier-than-thou. I'm just personally not comfortable with it (I am a constant old-school doodler, with my ubiquitous pen and sketch pad. Feel free to judge that  It helps me pay better attention). 

There are jumps; shifts from each generation to the next that are oftentimes not good, not bad; they simply redraw different sets of social mores as far as what's acceptable and appropriate behavior - and smartphones are something that kids today just grow up with. It's a given. And the ways in which we interact and communicate are changing; I'm still figuring out what I think. One thing is for sure: you go to virtually any meeting, event, church service, gathering, whatever, and it doesn't matter what the occasion is: there will be people plucking away on their phones.

What are the new rules here? 

And no knee-jerk reactions. I am genuinely curious. How do you determine, individually, what is an appropriate and what is not an appropriate time to be on your phone?

Oy vey, it's tough to be a kid today. Even a three- or 37-year old one.

FIVE NOTES ON NORTH KOREA, DAVID BOWIE AND DEBT FORGIVENESS, AND MR. HOLMES.
1. 
I arrived home yesterday evening to find holiday music blasting, lights twinkling, and my wife and children playing Pirates with cardboard boxes and referring to each other by the monikers David Bowie, Major Tom and Inigo Montoya. 

"NOW it's Christmas,"
I thought to myself as I set my bags down and picked up a sword.

"Daddy, you can be David Bowie Number 2!" one of my children shrieked cheerfully ; an idea I found slightly insulting. I'd be fine with Ziggy Stardust, or even Aladdin Sane. 

Fine. I sighed. Merry Christmas, little drummer people.

2. 
"Daddy, can you believe that the Tooth Fairy lost my tooth?" my daughter asked.

"Sissy,"
my three-year old son jumped in quickly.
"The Tooth Fairy isn't real. It's pretend."

3. QUESTIONS MY SON HAS ASKED BEFORE THE SUN ROSE
TODAY.
A. "Daddy, why don't you and Mama have Christmas lights in your bedroom?"
B. "Daddy, can you read me a book about a bad guy?"
C. "Daddy, why are swords silver?"
D. "Daddy, can I have two kinds of whipped cream now?"
E. "Daddy, do you want to buy something from me for five dollars? I will sell you a computer."

I had good answers for three of these questions.

4. The opening episode of Sherlock, series 2 might be my favourite-ever premiere episode of a second season. Mystery, intrigue, romance, occasional hilarity, poignant and earned heartstring-tugging, action, disconnected pieces starting to fall into place with perfect unveiling...what a mix of top-drawer acting, great writing, and superb production values. A program to savor.

4b.
"Can I change your name to 'Robert?'" 
my son asked his sister kindly.

"No."
She replied without hesitation.

5. Regarding the saga of North Korea's Jang Song Thae - formerly the second-most powerful figure in the country; denounced recently as a traitor and summarily executed:

I am so fascinated by the invisible transition from "current events" to "history," and how the passage of time provides some(times a) level of distance, objectivity and clarity. Events such as this: very much not history at this moment. Happening NOW. A reality for an entire other nation - and region - as we here skip around outdoor malls and and set children on Santas' laps and and water our trees and watch excellent British television dramas. There will be volumes of stories and op-eds in the coming days over what this means internationally, but I can't separate myself from the question of what events like this mean to families RIGHT NOW; to children in particular. Don't know. I am not a prolific flag waving, nationalistic evangelist who believes the U.S. is the moral center of the entire world...

...but it is certainly a sobering reminder that I live in a country where I won't wake up one morning to find that Joe Biden has been denounced as a traitor and executed. 

And also a reminder that there is a world that exists outside my family, outside my home, outside my country and comfort zone. And it's not necessarily a joyous time for the entire world right now.

On that note. Merry Christmas. Time to go pay some bills. Santa, will you please forgive my student loan debt?