AND THE AWARD GOES TO

[file this under: “Pops’ Opinions No One Cares About”]

The Academy has announced the nominees for their awards for 2019. Again this year, they didn’t ask for my take on it all which is probably good since I didn’t see that many movies in 2019, but I’m not one to shy away from offering uninformed opinion.

For “Best Picture” the award should go to LITTLE WOMEN. It won’t, but it should. If I stay up past my bedtime and they announce the winner is JOKER, which they probably will, I’ll mutter, “What do they know?” and go to bed.

The Academy is off to a bad start with me anyway because Christian Bale is not even nominated for “Best Actor in a Supporting Role” for his portrayal of race car driver Ken Miles in FORD VS FERRARI. And in the category of “Stupidest Omissions By the Academy” the winner goes to their stupidity in not nominating Greta Gerwig for “Directing” for LITTLE WOMEN. I’m indignant about this not JUST because there’s not a single female director nominated, but because her work in this beautiful film deserves to be nominated. While we’re on the subject of LITTLE WOMEN, chances are if Saoirse Ronan doesn’t win the award for “Actress in a Leading Role”, I’ll probably push the off button on the TV real hard and go to bed and then read about the Academy’s other poor choices the next morning.

I’m doing some serious pre-judging here because I don’t want JOKER to win and I know nothing about it except for a bit from a reviewer I hold in high regard. Just as I do in my politicians, I like a little dab of redeeming value in my movies.

Speaking of jokes and jokers, I would buy a ticket to see Rudy G. testify before the Senate in that reality show to beat all reality shows kicking off on Tuesday. Better yet I would pay for a seat on the 50 to watch POTUS watch Rudy testify.

I heard an interview on Fresh Air with Terry Gross with the producer, directer and co-writer of JOKER, Todd Phillips, who also did The Hangover movies. He seemed like a nice guy who seemed to be doing some searching of his own to find some redeeming value in his film:

“Oftentimes, you know, movies are mirrors, and they reflect what's going on whenever they take place. And that was something Scott and I really - was important to us, that we are addressing things that we feel or felt were going on in the world in 2016 and '17, as we were writing it.

“You know, we all know the big changes in this country that were happening then. Like, I can tell you when Obama was president, we wrote three "Hangover" movies (laughter). When everything changed, suddenly things felt darker, you know. Anyway, so the mental illness to us was a lot about, you know, what you hear about when social services get cut. What happens to these people? We really thought it was important to shine a light on the system. You know, I think, like a lot of people, the system is broken, and why not use a film to make a comment on that?”

If movies are indeed mirrors reflecting what’s going on; I long to look in the mirror and see TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. (Nominated for “Best Picture” in 1963. Gregory Peck for his portrayal of Atticus Finch won “Actor in a Lead Role”.)

I MADE IT

ALTHOUGH SOME WARNED I MIGHT NOT. I’ve made it through 69 years. That’s the way it works you know. You don’t get to have a First birthday party until you’ve lived a year. Then you start on year two. So, now I’ve embarked on year 70. I was thinking that sounded incredibly old, but my mother who is 90-something just called to say, “Happy Birthday” and asked me if this was 87 or 88 for me. Good grief mom, what were your early teens like?

I can remember voices from my past like that of my high school geometry teacher telling me I would regret not taking his geometry class more seriously. He was wrong. One thing I did take seriously in school was learning to diagram sentences. I do regret that. I’ve never even once been asked as an adult to diagram a sentence. What a waste. Not really. I’ve always enjoyed words, sentences and drawing lines.

There are some regrets obviously, but none are too crippling. Some I wish I could fix, but I know from Marty McFly how dangerous time travel can be. My bro-in-law and one of my very best friends talks about making amends. I don’t really know how to do that effectively. But it is my desire to.

I heard a man who was in the final hours of a terminal disease say, “I wish I could live my life over again, not because I haven’t enjoyed it but because I have enjoyed it so much.”

Do morbidness and the golden years go hand in hand?

Well even though my physical form has made it through 69 relatively unscathed, I’m still as immature mentally, socially and spiritually as I was in my prime. So life goes on with plenty to aspire to.

“I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going, and hook up with them later. ”

— Mitch Hedberg

Someone told me, “Don’t give unsolicited advice. People hate it when old people give unsolicited advice!”

I didn’t ask them for that advice so I’m not going to take it. It doesn’t matter to me whether anyone takes my advice or not. Sometimes I feel like they’re not even listening.

For example, in every episode of Dateline, 20/20, 48-hours and all the rest I yell at those idiots on TV, “if you’re going to kill your wife don’t go to Wal Mart or Home Depot and buy a shovel, a blue tarp, a roll of duct tape and clorox with your credit card.” But still they do it…every single time.

I don’t know how many times I’ve given Billy Donovan coaching advice though the TV; it’s like he can’t even hear me.

Even my Grand-Kids—I offer wisdom and guidance and they give me this little, cute eye-roll, and an, “O Pops.”

Well by golly I’ve reached the point where I can give all the advice I want and the right to ignore any and all advice from others, especially doctors and religious leaders. Just kidding Mom. I’m only 69, and I’m just kidding.

Here’s some advice for you: laugh hard everyday, don’t trust politicians and wear sunscreen.

I’ve been to plenty of kids’ birthday parties over the past few years. These days they have “themes” or destinations like beautiful indoor swimming pools for November swim parties or places like that one with the big mouse, games and bad pizza. I’ve been to rainbow parties, unicorn parties, Minnie Mouse parties. These are so common, one of the grand-girls was a bit indignant when I told her I wasn’t having a party much less a theme.

So that set me to thinking… If I did have a party and a theme what would it be? I decided on this:

Seeing 2020

REMEMBER THE SONG “In the Year 2525 (Exordium & Terminus)”? The one-hit wonder of Zager & Evans? If you were driving up and down Peoria Avenue on a weekend night in 1969, you do.

Let me save you some Googling:

• ex·​or·​di·​um | a beginning or introduction especially to a discourse or composition.

• ter·​mi·​nus | a final goal : a finishing point.

This is my stream of consciousness on the theme: In the Year 2020. Hopefully it isn’t as bleak as the aforementioned song.

Without a doubt the most eagerly awaited event for 2020 will be the birth of our next GRANDchild. This could happen any day now (but I’m guessing her/his mother and father are wishing for any hour now). This beautiful mom has had all of her kids (3 of them) on the 12th day of the month. So, I’m planning on that, but Elvis and I wouldn’t be sorry to see it come on the 8th of January—the DOB he and I share. 8th, 12th or tomorrow; I’m ready.

What I’m not ready for is the year-long slog through political muck. It’s bad all the time, but this election year looms like a festering Oklahoma storm.

Thunder. The Oklahoma City Thunder are a huge surprise. Not just in the fact that they’re winning but that they are so fun to watch. I know a trade or trades is coming. That’s what “rebuilding” means, and the bottom line in the NBA, as in any big business, is business. It all comes down to that.

Why have we elevated politicians to a place above prophets and poets and priests? And by “priests” I mean ALL who seek God, as in Luther’s understanding of the priesthood of all believers. There is no authority between you and God, no one. Not a man, not a woman, not a husband, not a wife. Not a pastor or priest or rabbi, not a ruler, or politician, or TV preacher, or mega-church pastor, no one (unless you put them in that position). The spiritual journey is in following God and serving, not in power and ruling. Like that father in the Bible story who said, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24 NIV), The journey is full of questions and doubts and maybe an occasional answer. Go on the journey.

On January 8, 2020, I will be 69 years old. The summer of 1969 is probably not as remarkable as I remember it, but I remember it fondly. I remember it as the summer after high school and before college. I remember it being a little bit crazy, a little bit risky, a little bit scary and a little bit bold, free and easy. I am hoping that the summer, this summer, of 69 will be described like that.

I have friendships that I have neglected. I blame it on introversion, but that’s unnecessary. Many of my friends are much younger than I am and in some cases older. Hopefully I still have something to bring to the friendships regardless. I’m a boomer and I’m OK with that. So if I have a story to tell feel free to acknowledge that with a trite “OK Boomer”. It’s apropos.

Rhythm is life. It is in the breaths we take and the beat of our heart. It is in the sunrise and the sunset and the tick of the clock. God created order out of chaos by giving life a rhythm. It is one of the things I love about being a drummer—celebrating rhythm. In 2020, I want to perpetuate rhythm. One of the ways I want to do that is by helping a young drummer. I want them to have the equipment they need in order to pursue their dream. Let me know if you know someone I could reach out to.

In looking forward to 2020, I don’t want to leave 2019 behind too quickly. You know how when you taste a really good dessert like pecan pie or whiskey cake, and your first thought is: that is rich, and then next thing you know it’s gone? 2019 was rich like that and fleeting.

This past year I helped with memorial services for two men who lived rich lives: gentle-men, fathers, husbands, disciples, classy men who gave way more than they took and left the world a much better place for having been here. One was my dad and the other my friend Dave.

I also helped tie the knot in two special weddings. I thought my marrying days were behind me, thinking “I can’t imagine anyone being left who would want me to do their wedding.” But through wonderful friendships with two beautiful, creative young women, I signed marriage licenses in two of the most unique weddings I’ve ever been a part of. Here’s a quote used in both of these weddings that would be good to live-out in 2020:

“The best thing to hold on to in life is each other.””

— Audrey Hepburn

Oh; but the best part of 2019 was family. Watching our kids make a difference in the world, watching our grandkids grow. I know every grandparent says so, but these six, and almost seven grandkids are so beautiful and bright.

We were married eight years before we had our first child. I told My Amazing Missus I didn’t want anyone to think we “had” to get married. So we should know how to do the empty nest thing together. And we do. Whether it’s life on the road or at home, I love our times together.

And for my mom, I can’t even imagine how she does it after all of those years with dad at her side. But, she does. And we do.

In the Year 2020:

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”

— Henry David Thoreau

MISTER WHO

I CAN’T QUITE PUT MY FINGER ON IT. I’m going to call it a cultural enigma. The serials I grew up with always had someone who would ride in to the rescue: The Lone Ranger, Superman, Lassie, Sheriff Andy Taylor; even in the serial lessons at church: Jesus (but in a non-fiction way).

So, today as a guy of a certain age, I still think, surely, someone is going to ride in and save the day or at least show us the compass and ensure us that the needle hasn’t been broken off, it still points North, every single time.

With the new movie about Mr. Rogers (which in my opinion couldn’t have been made without Tom Hanks to play the title role) just out, I can’t help but wonder if maybe we could use a man like Mister Rogers again.

My friend Alissa Wilkinson who writes movie reviews for Vox wrote:
“It becomes apparent that A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is framed as a feature-length episode of Rogers’ show, but for and about adults, in which very adult feelings — like anger at your estranged father, or fear of parenting your own infant son — are meant to be confronted. Gently, Rogers reminds Vogel (and us) that we all get angry, but what we do with that anger is what matters, and that forgiveness is the hardest thing of all to do.”

Maybe you remember Archie Bunker from the sitcom, All In The Family. Remember this line from the song that Archie and wife, Edith sang together to open each episode:

And you knew who you were then,
Girls were girls and men were men,
Mister we could use a man
Like Herbert Hoover again.

Not sure why Archie longed for Hoover’s second-coming, but it was part of his caricature.

If you’re not familiar with the show, here’s the premise as described in Wikipedia:

All in the Family is about a typical working-class Caucasian family living in Queens, New York. Its patriarch is Archie Bunker, an outspoken, narrow-minded man, seemingly prejudiced against everyone who is not like him or his idea of how people should be. Archie's wife Edith is sweet and understanding, though somewhat naïve and uneducated; her husband sometimes disparagingly calls her "dingbat". Their one child, Gloria, is generally kind and good-natured like her mother, but displays traces of her father's stubbornness and temper; unlike them, she's a feminist. Gloria is married to college student Michael Stivic – referred to as "Meathead" by Archie – whose values are likewise influenced and shaped by the counterculture of the 1960s. The two couples represent the real-life clash of values between the Greatest Generation and Baby Boomers. For much of the series, the Stivics live in the Bunkers' home to save money, providing abundant opportunity for them to irritate each other.

The series was ground-breaking and somehow showed us we had better learn to laugh at ourselves and to learn there is truth in satire.

Each episode began with this disclaimer:

The program you are about to see is ‘All in the Family.’ It seeks to throw a humorous spotlight on our frailties, prejudices and concerns. By making them a source of laughter, we hope to show—in a mature fashion—just how absurd they are.

Today, I almost feel like reruns of the show should also have a disclaimer that begins: “This is not a documentary...”

Mister, I’m not suggesting that we could use a man like Archie Bunker again because I’m not sure we could handle satire these days. Maybe we’ve become too fragile for it, or too blind to see it.

Just for fun and as a sort of test, here are the other lyrics to the opening song. Read them and tell me how you feel (not really).

Boy the way Glenn Miller played
Songs that made the Hit Parade.
Guys like us we had it made,
Those were the days.

And you knew who you were then,
Girls were girls and men were men,
Mister we could use a man
Like Herbert Hoover again.

Didn't need no welfare state,
Everybody pulled his weight.
Gee our old LaSalle ran great.
Those were the days.

{In the longer version}

People seemed to be content,
Fifty dollars paid the rent,
Freaks were in a circus tent.
Those were the days.

Take a little Sunday spin,
Go to watch the Dodgers win.
Have yourself a dandy day,
That cost you under a fin.

Hair was short and skirts were long.
Kate Smith really sold a song.
I don't know just what went wrong,
Those were the days.

---

So, who do we need these days Mister? Mister Rogers, Mister Myagi (The Karate Kid), some Clint Eastwood character, Atticus Finch, Bob Dylan. Joe, Pete, Elizabeth, Kamala or 4-more-of-what-we’ve-got?

Something’s missing, or maybe it’s someone. That’s the cultural enigma I’m feeling.