Those of us who have grown up fans of the Phillies have lived with unfair reputations for as long as I can remember. There are idiot fans in every market...but we get hit particularly hard. It was good to see this last night. I was watching the game live when it happened. Thank you Steve, not only for giving us a lasting image of the love of a father for his daughter, but also for showing the world that Phillies fans, MOST Phillies fans, are not the hairless apes network TV likes to portray us as.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Prayer of a Teacher
Today is an anxious day in the life of a teacher.
The room is set up, copies are made, planning has been done.
Tomorrow is zero hour.
Tomorrow, the kids come.
Many teachers I know spend this day wandering around in a kind of trance, hoping the year they are about to embark on is a good one. Good students who come to class bright eyed, bushy tailed, and eager to learn. Excellent parents who share your educational philosophy to the letter, who show up, ON TIME, to every conference and dance through the halls, singing your praises so loud the principal cannot help but join in the joyous refrain. Test scores so high Oprah herself will take notice and have you as a guest on her show to share your wisdom with the masses. And who wouldn't want a few days worth of heavy snow sprinkled in just for fun.
These lofty aspirations aside, we all hope for a good, positive year.
In fact teachers so fervently hope for a successful year that they engage in many activities the day before the year begins to give themselves a leg up, an edge to push them past everyone else.
These have been theorized by some, guessed at by others, and were even predicted by the great prophet Nostradamus.
They have never been revealed outside of the hallowed halls of academia.
Until now.
So...what can you as a teacher do the night before school starts to ensure a smooth, successful year?
- Make sure your years supply of Prozac is filled.
- Spend the day watching Freedom Writers, Mr. Holland's Opus, Dangerous Minds, Akelah and the Bee, Lean on Me, Dead Poets Society, or any other completely true to life Hollywood film made about teachers that will make you feel that your year will turn out EXACTLY like them. After you have had a good laugh at this suggestion, move on.
- Obsessively plan out your entire year. Then plan a back up year. Then plan a back up for your back up. Ensure that all back up plans are completely structurally supported by the state standards. Email copies to your principal, the PTA president, and the Head of the Board.
- Sacrifice 50 spotless bulls and 20 virgins to the god Odin that he may bless your endeavors with strength and victory. (This one is very difficult to pull off due to the fact that it is easier to find 50 bulls than it is to find 20 virgins these days. I blame Baywatch.)
- Consume as much alcohol as is humanly possible so that, no matter how devastatingly hung over you are for the start of school in the morning, the year can only get better.
- Spend the entire day at the pool or beach in complete and total denial that summer is over. When a friend makes a joke that you have to go back to real work in the morning, pants them and shove them in the water.
- Lay on your living room floor, tucked into a protective, fetal ball, drooling and mumbling until your spouse kicks you and sends you up to bed.
As you see, there are many things a teacher can do to ensure a smooth and productive year.
I am, of course, kidding (except for the comment about how much easier it is to find bulls instead of virgins). It is true however that the night before a new school year begins is one filled with nervous anticipation and, hopefully, excitement.
I have a simple routine I follow, and after many years in education, it seems to work pretty well.
After spending a fun day with my family (The Wife is a teacher as well...The Peanut wants to be a teacher some day, as well as a presidential, soccer playing, policewoman firefighting violinist) I will read for a bit and then turn off the lights. Before I glide into the deep waters of sleep, I pray.
I pray for patience. I need to remember that each student is a unique individual. Like fingerprints, no two students are exactly alike. Each comes to me at a different stage of development, academically and socially. It is unreasonable to want them all to be at the same level just because it would make my life easier. I need to do the best I can for each student where they are.
I pray for energy. I know that I am the single most important influence in my classroom when it comes to setting the mood. If I am happy, upbeat, and enthusiastic I increase the odds for that energy to permeate into my students. Likewise, if I am negative, sour, or tired the same will occur. Like a hot air balloonist, I have much control over how inflated or deflated we all are.
I pray for sensitivity. Twenty-five human lives from twenty-five different backgrounds, religions, and home situations will come to me. They will look to me to understand them, to give them acceptance, validation, and support. I need to remember that just because someone did not grow up with what I had or was not raised the way I was, that does not make me superior to them. I need to accept and care for my students where they are when they come to me. I also need to be open to the things I can learn from my students on a daily basis.
I pray for compassion. Some of my families are single parent. Some of my students are being raised by their grandparents. Some are the oldest and the responsibility for raising their younger siblings falls to them because mom or dad work multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Some are going through active divorce proceedings. Some are coping with difficult custody arrangements from past divorce proceedings. Some are coping with life situations that are so terrible and confusing that I as a thirty-five year old adult would struggle to comprehend them. These children come to my door each day and are expected to learn. I must remember that some days this will be easier for them than others.
I pray for wisdom. I know I will make mistakes. It is an inevitable by-product of the human condition. I pray for the wisdom to minimize my mistakes. I also pray for the wisdom to learn from the ones I will make.
I pray for endurance. A school year is a marathon, one run no matter what the conditions are like. I need to be mindful that I must remain as strong on the last day of school as I plan to be on the first. There are parts of the year that pass with the ease of a down hill race. I pray that I do not get complacent at those times. But there are also times of a school year that pass with the gut wrenching agony of an uphill race. I pray that my energy will not fail me when I need it most.
I pray for my colleagues. Though a school may be comprised of a multitude of individual classrooms, it is a community. I need to remember that the other adults in my building will be just as nervous, just as excited, just as fallible as I will be. I pray that I can be an asset and encouragement to my fellow teachers, that I will reach out to them when they are in need. I also pray that I in turn will reach out to them when I find myself in need of assistance.
Lastly, I pray that when my students leave my room that I will have made as much of an impact on their lives as I know they will make on my own. There has not been a year that has passed by where a class has not taught me a multitude of things about myself and the way I view the world, for good or for ill. I will always be indebted to my students and their families for the things they have taught me.
These things I will pray. Then, I will sleep.
At some point in the night my clinically insane beagle will shove her cold, wet nose into the small of my back. And some time after that, as the sun begins to rise, The Peanut will pad not-so-softly into our room and hop into bed with us, snuggling in between us. I will lay there for a bit, savoring the preview of heaven that comes from having my dearest ones so close.
Then my feet will hit the floor...and another school year will begin.
The room is set up, copies are made, planning has been done.
Tomorrow is zero hour.
Tomorrow, the kids come.
Many teachers I know spend this day wandering around in a kind of trance, hoping the year they are about to embark on is a good one. Good students who come to class bright eyed, bushy tailed, and eager to learn. Excellent parents who share your educational philosophy to the letter, who show up, ON TIME, to every conference and dance through the halls, singing your praises so loud the principal cannot help but join in the joyous refrain. Test scores so high Oprah herself will take notice and have you as a guest on her show to share your wisdom with the masses. And who wouldn't want a few days worth of heavy snow sprinkled in just for fun.
These lofty aspirations aside, we all hope for a good, positive year.
In fact teachers so fervently hope for a successful year that they engage in many activities the day before the year begins to give themselves a leg up, an edge to push them past everyone else.
These have been theorized by some, guessed at by others, and were even predicted by the great prophet Nostradamus.
They have never been revealed outside of the hallowed halls of academia.
Until now.
So...what can you as a teacher do the night before school starts to ensure a smooth, successful year?
- Make sure your years supply of Prozac is filled.
- Spend the day watching Freedom Writers, Mr. Holland's Opus, Dangerous Minds, Akelah and the Bee, Lean on Me, Dead Poets Society, or any other completely true to life Hollywood film made about teachers that will make you feel that your year will turn out EXACTLY like them. After you have had a good laugh at this suggestion, move on.
- Obsessively plan out your entire year. Then plan a back up year. Then plan a back up for your back up. Ensure that all back up plans are completely structurally supported by the state standards. Email copies to your principal, the PTA president, and the Head of the Board.
- Sacrifice 50 spotless bulls and 20 virgins to the god Odin that he may bless your endeavors with strength and victory. (This one is very difficult to pull off due to the fact that it is easier to find 50 bulls than it is to find 20 virgins these days. I blame Baywatch.)
- Consume as much alcohol as is humanly possible so that, no matter how devastatingly hung over you are for the start of school in the morning, the year can only get better.
- Spend the entire day at the pool or beach in complete and total denial that summer is over. When a friend makes a joke that you have to go back to real work in the morning, pants them and shove them in the water.
- Lay on your living room floor, tucked into a protective, fetal ball, drooling and mumbling until your spouse kicks you and sends you up to bed.
As you see, there are many things a teacher can do to ensure a smooth and productive year.
I am, of course, kidding (except for the comment about how much easier it is to find bulls instead of virgins). It is true however that the night before a new school year begins is one filled with nervous anticipation and, hopefully, excitement.
I have a simple routine I follow, and after many years in education, it seems to work pretty well.
After spending a fun day with my family (The Wife is a teacher as well...The Peanut wants to be a teacher some day, as well as a presidential, soccer playing, policewoman firefighting violinist) I will read for a bit and then turn off the lights. Before I glide into the deep waters of sleep, I pray.
I pray for patience. I need to remember that each student is a unique individual. Like fingerprints, no two students are exactly alike. Each comes to me at a different stage of development, academically and socially. It is unreasonable to want them all to be at the same level just because it would make my life easier. I need to do the best I can for each student where they are.
I pray for energy. I know that I am the single most important influence in my classroom when it comes to setting the mood. If I am happy, upbeat, and enthusiastic I increase the odds for that energy to permeate into my students. Likewise, if I am negative, sour, or tired the same will occur. Like a hot air balloonist, I have much control over how inflated or deflated we all are.
I pray for sensitivity. Twenty-five human lives from twenty-five different backgrounds, religions, and home situations will come to me. They will look to me to understand them, to give them acceptance, validation, and support. I need to remember that just because someone did not grow up with what I had or was not raised the way I was, that does not make me superior to them. I need to accept and care for my students where they are when they come to me. I also need to be open to the things I can learn from my students on a daily basis.
I pray for compassion. Some of my families are single parent. Some of my students are being raised by their grandparents. Some are the oldest and the responsibility for raising their younger siblings falls to them because mom or dad work multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Some are going through active divorce proceedings. Some are coping with difficult custody arrangements from past divorce proceedings. Some are coping with life situations that are so terrible and confusing that I as a thirty-five year old adult would struggle to comprehend them. These children come to my door each day and are expected to learn. I must remember that some days this will be easier for them than others.
I pray for wisdom. I know I will make mistakes. It is an inevitable by-product of the human condition. I pray for the wisdom to minimize my mistakes. I also pray for the wisdom to learn from the ones I will make.
I pray for endurance. A school year is a marathon, one run no matter what the conditions are like. I need to be mindful that I must remain as strong on the last day of school as I plan to be on the first. There are parts of the year that pass with the ease of a down hill race. I pray that I do not get complacent at those times. But there are also times of a school year that pass with the gut wrenching agony of an uphill race. I pray that my energy will not fail me when I need it most.
I pray for my colleagues. Though a school may be comprised of a multitude of individual classrooms, it is a community. I need to remember that the other adults in my building will be just as nervous, just as excited, just as fallible as I will be. I pray that I can be an asset and encouragement to my fellow teachers, that I will reach out to them when they are in need. I also pray that I in turn will reach out to them when I find myself in need of assistance.
Lastly, I pray that when my students leave my room that I will have made as much of an impact on their lives as I know they will make on my own. There has not been a year that has passed by where a class has not taught me a multitude of things about myself and the way I view the world, for good or for ill. I will always be indebted to my students and their families for the things they have taught me.
These things I will pray. Then, I will sleep.
At some point in the night my clinically insane beagle will shove her cold, wet nose into the small of my back. And some time after that, as the sun begins to rise, The Peanut will pad not-so-softly into our room and hop into bed with us, snuggling in between us. I will lay there for a bit, savoring the preview of heaven that comes from having my dearest ones so close.
Then my feet will hit the floor...and another school year will begin.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
M.I.A.
Boxes, books, sweating, painting, moving, grunting, sweating, planning, copying, grunting, cutting, pasting, calling, visiting, sweating...
Must be time for another school year to begin.
Unfortunately the blog gets neglected like a Beverly Hills latchkey kid.
Hopefully this self imposed exile will end soon.
I know my six readers must be getting pretty antsy.
Back to the planning, and sweating, and calling...
Must be time for another school year to begin.
Unfortunately the blog gets neglected like a Beverly Hills latchkey kid.
Hopefully this self imposed exile will end soon.
I know my six readers must be getting pretty antsy.
Back to the planning, and sweating, and calling...
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Training Camp or I Should Have Been a Sports Photographer (maybe)
The Eagles new season begins today with a Pre-Season game against the New England Cheaters...er...I mean Patriots. And while I will spend the first quarter nervous as hell that the Eagles ride on The Injury Express will continue, it will be GREAT to have football back on the big screen and screaming out of the surround system.
So, in anticipation of tonight's game, as I clean off the grill, check the beer supply, and spice up the salsa, I offer these shots from our trip up to training camp in Lehigh two weeks ago.
Enjoy and, if you are so inclined, click into the comments section and give me your predictions for the season.
E-A-G-L-E-S...EAGLES!!!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I Am My Own Worst Enemy
Most days I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent and well-read guy. Not Mensa Society material to be sure, but comfortably in possession of a better than average intelligence. Other days I feel like I am one corked-fork poke in the eyepatch away from being Ruprecht.
Today was one of those Ruprecht days.
The Peanut spent the night with her grandparents and she successfully lobbied to spend the day after swimming in mom-mom's pool. Finding ourselves presented with a free morning, the wife and I decided to go catch a movie. So at 11:00 we hopped in the car and drove to the theater to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
We got to the theater, mortgaged our home to afford two tickets, bought a small popcorn and a thimble full of soda, and headed for theater #9. As I passed the men's room nature's call grabbed my attention and, not wanting to miss any of the movie, I answered.
I walked into the empty stall swinging my keys in my hand, whistling the song Ma Nama Na. Why that particular song? I don't know. I already told you...it was a Ruprecht day.
I shut the door to the stall and went to unbutton my shorts when I realized that is not a task I can accomplish with my keys in hand. Now, on a Non-Ruprecht day I would put them in my pocket, as any slightly intelligent human being would do. But my mind was on the ridiculous song I was whistling and the movie I was looking forward to seeing so I put the ring of keys in the corner of my mouth.
(I think you can see where this is going)
There I stood, getting ready to take care of business with my keys hanging from my teeth, still humming that stupid song. Just as the flow was about to begin I got to the big "Ma NAMA Na" part of the song and instead of continuing to whistle, I opened my mouth to sing it loud and proud. Gravity, sensing it's opportunity, grabbed those keys and guided them straight into that questionably cleaned movie theater toilet.
There I stood, my pants around my ankles, mouth agape, staring at my green Eagles house key lying at the bottom of that porcelain bowl. With a silent thanks to the gods of urination that I had not yet commenced my bladder emptying activities, I quickly grabbed the keys out of the bowl and dropped them on the floor. This wonderful experience was accompanied by some colorful language from yours truly that I won't repeat here.
After completing my task, I washed the keys in the bathroom sink and put them in my pocket. Caught the movie (enjoyed it for the most part) and headed home.
The keys?
They are sitting in boiling water right now. I am debating just getting a new set.
Today was definitely a Ruprecht day.
Today was one of those Ruprecht days.
The Peanut spent the night with her grandparents and she successfully lobbied to spend the day after swimming in mom-mom's pool. Finding ourselves presented with a free morning, the wife and I decided to go catch a movie. So at 11:00 we hopped in the car and drove to the theater to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
We got to the theater, mortgaged our home to afford two tickets, bought a small popcorn and a thimble full of soda, and headed for theater #9. As I passed the men's room nature's call grabbed my attention and, not wanting to miss any of the movie, I answered.
I walked into the empty stall swinging my keys in my hand, whistling the song Ma Nama Na. Why that particular song? I don't know. I already told you...it was a Ruprecht day.
I shut the door to the stall and went to unbutton my shorts when I realized that is not a task I can accomplish with my keys in hand. Now, on a Non-Ruprecht day I would put them in my pocket, as any slightly intelligent human being would do. But my mind was on the ridiculous song I was whistling and the movie I was looking forward to seeing so I put the ring of keys in the corner of my mouth.
(I think you can see where this is going)
There I stood, getting ready to take care of business with my keys hanging from my teeth, still humming that stupid song. Just as the flow was about to begin I got to the big "Ma NAMA Na" part of the song and instead of continuing to whistle, I opened my mouth to sing it loud and proud. Gravity, sensing it's opportunity, grabbed those keys and guided them straight into that questionably cleaned movie theater toilet.
There I stood, my pants around my ankles, mouth agape, staring at my green Eagles house key lying at the bottom of that porcelain bowl. With a silent thanks to the gods of urination that I had not yet commenced my bladder emptying activities, I quickly grabbed the keys out of the bowl and dropped them on the floor. This wonderful experience was accompanied by some colorful language from yours truly that I won't repeat here.
After completing my task, I washed the keys in the bathroom sink and put them in my pocket. Caught the movie (enjoyed it for the most part) and headed home.
The keys?
They are sitting in boiling water right now. I am debating just getting a new set.
Today was definitely a Ruprecht day.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Fatherhood Friday - A Warning
If you ever go to Sesame Place (A GREAT place to take the family by the way) and see this guy walking around the park...
...and you get the urge to tickle him and see if he really does have that cute little laugh, PLEASE DON'T!
The park employee wearing the costume will NOT be amused by the joke and the resultant meetings with park security and then the Pennsylvania State Police will not only be incredibly embarrassing for your loved ones, but it is also pretty much a buzz kill for the rest of the day.
Consider yourself warned.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Fatherhood Friday! On The Peanut's favorite movie - Coraline.
Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten. - G.K. Chesterton
The Peanut has a new favorite movie. UP has been her reigning favorite for months now (like her daddy the girl is all about Pixar...in fact, she helped me compose this list) but it has been supplanted by a movie that is based on a book I have loved since the first time I read it many years ago. The film adaptation is not perfect (what film adaptation truly is?) but it is an excellent movie and I am thrilled that she has chosen it as her new favorite.
Coraline, a stop-motion animated film directed by Henry Sellick (The Nightmare Before Christmas), is based on the book of the same name, written by Neil Gaiman (The Chesterton quote at the beginning of this post is actually the epigraph for the novel Coraline. It was the hook that drew me to the book as I am a huge admirer of G.K. Chesterton. I was sad that the quote was left out of the film). Neil is a writer of astounding uniqueness. He is the 2009 winner of the Newbery Medal for The Graveyard Book. I have read Coraline aloud to my fifth graders for years now and this past year added The Graveyard Book to our read-aloud list. The kids loved both stories, eagerly anticipating the next day's reading. Many bought or borrowed copies to read along with me as I read. Neil does not write only for children. He has also written several novels and many short stories for adults. His novel American Gods is an amazing book that will completely blow your mind. It is in my top ten list for the best novels of all time. If you have never read anything by Neil Gaiman you should.
Now.
Well, finish this first but then get on over to your local independent book store (if you live in Delaware, Browseabout Books is the best) and see for yourself what I am talking about.
I couldn't wait to show Coraline to The Peanut. As an already avowed fan of The Nightmare Before Christmas, I knew she would not be spooked by it. It does have some admittedly creepy parts but I wasn't worried. So last Tuesday night we popped some popcorn, turned off the lights, fired up the big screen, and sat back to enjoy. The Peanut has watched the movie once a day since that night. She has shown it to her auntie and her uncles. She talks about it to whomever will listen. She has called her grandparents to tell them about it. She loves the character Coraline, in fact she wants to be Coraline for Halloween, something that makes me very, very happy.
For the unfamiliar, Coraline Jones is a 12 year old girl who moves into a huge Victorian house that has been chopped up and divided into several apartments. She has no brothers or sisters and since she has just moved, has no one to talk to or play with. Her mother and father are both writers and are seemingly more concerned with their daily work than spending time with Coraline. They repeatedly tell her to leave them alone, find something to do and let them work. The only people Coraline has to talk to are two retired, dotty actresses (Misses Spink and Forcible) who occupy the basement apartment of the house, and a strange and possibly insane Russian man (Mr. Bobinski) who lives in the attic apartment of the house and claims to talk to mice. The film introduces a boy named Wybie who is about Coraline's age (he is not in the novel) who is also very peculiar. Coraline also encounters a black cat, who in the film version, hangs around with Wybie. In the book, the cat is aloof and alone, very cat like behavior for sure.
Without any real options for interaction Coraline sets off to investigate the old house and finds a strange door. This door ends up leading to a world that is a mirror image of Coraline's own but with some very real changes. The most noticeable is that her parents, not her actual parents but her "other" parents, have black buttons sewn into where their eyes should be. They are as attentive and loving to Coraline as her real parents are not. Her Other Mother cooks wonderful feasts with every imaginable food a 12 year old could ever want and her Other Father sings wonderful, Coraline centered songs and tends an amazingly beautiful garden that comes to animated life for Coraline. The other parents dote all their time, energy, and attention on Coraline. It is a world that seems designed primarily for her enjoyment. All the people from Coraline's new life in the real world, the two actresses downstairs, the Russian mouse circus trainer from upstairs, and even Wybie are present in the Other World, all with black buttons sewn into their eyes, all there for one purpose - to please Coraline. The cat also makes an appearance in the Other World, but aside from Coraline he is the only creature who does not have the button eyes. And he has no love for the Other Mother.
Coraline returns to this magical world repeatedly, each time having more and more fun. When the Other Mother asks her if she would like to stay, Coraline tells her of course she would. Who wouldn't? Coraline is given whatever she wants in this world, even the toys in her room fly around her room and talk to her. It is a child's dream world come to life. The Other Mother is happy to hear that Coraline wants to stay. There is one catch. Coraline has to let the Other Mother sew black buttons onto her eyes. Then Coraline can stay - forever. Naturally, Coraline balks at this horrifying idea and at last the movies tagline, Be Careful What You Wish For, makes sense. Coraline now sees the Other Mother's world for what it really is - a trap. Coraline then sets out on a quest...but to give any further away would spoil the story for you.
There is much about the character of Coraline that as a father I hope to see my own daughter grow to exhibit in her own character.
Coraline is unique, a trait she seeks to cultivate instead of hide like I see so many kids(and adults for that matter) doing today. Everyone wants to be the SAME, same clothes, same hair, same friends, same music, etc. Coraline strikes the watcher (and more so in the book, the reader) as a young girl who is very comfortable in her own skin. She has a self confidence that says I am who I am. I love that about her.
Coraline is a very brave girl. Not only is she brave, she understands the definition of true bravery. A beautiful line of dialog from the book that illustrates this was not included in the movie. Coraline is talking with the black cat as they are walking down the tunnel and back into the Other World. She is talking about being brave in the face of what they had to do, confront the Other Mother. She tells the cat a story about a time when Coraline was much younger and she and her dad were out exploring. They had startled a wasps nest and her father took the brunt of the stings so she could get away unharmed. Later he had to go back and retrieve his glasses which had fallen off in the mad dash to get away from the wasps. Her father told her that protecting her from the wasps wasn't the truly brave thing...it was his only real option, the only thing he could do in that situation. But going back to that place later to retrieve his glasses, knowing those wasps were still there, that was the truly brave thing. Coraline tells the cat "But going back again to get his glasses, when he knew the wasps were there, when he was really scared. That was brave." The cat then asks why that was brave. Coraline replies, "Because, when you're scared but you still do it anyway, that's brave." That's a good reminder for all of us, myself certainly included. Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is continuing on and doing what needs to be done in the face of fear itself.
Coraline is also extremely smart. Many times throughout the course of the story she is called upon to use her wits to get her out of tough situations. Sadly the movie fails to show this trait as strongly as the book because the movie changes the end (if you really want to see how clever this character truly is, read the book). A character of lesser intelligence and quickness of wit would be is deep trouble against the Other Mother. Coraline uses all her talents to their utmost effectiveness.
Coraline is not only smart, she is also wise. On Coraline's quest to escape the web that is the Other Mother's world, a character attempts to entice Coraline to stay. The dark figure first recounts for her all that is negative about life in her real home; how she will be bored, how her real parents will pay more attention to their computer screens than to Coraline herself, how she is too smart for the people in her world, how they are so neglectful and unintelligent that they cannot even get her name right (the adults in Coralines house always call her Caroline instead of Coraline, a mistake the adults in the Other Mother's world never make). The dark figure then tells Coraline to stay away from all of that foolishness, to stay in the Other Mother's world where everything will be perfect, where every day will be better and brighter than the one before it. Coraline then strings the figure along, asking if she can have all manner of things she wants, no matter how fantastical or expensive or impossible they may be and the figure ensures her that she can have all that and even more. Coraline than stops the figure short with an exasperated sigh. "You really don't understand, do you?" she asks the figure. Here the movie slips up again by leaving out the great dialog from the book. In the book Coraline goes on to say, "I don't want whatever I want. Nobody does. Not really. What kind of fun would it be if I just got everything I ever wanted? Just like that, and it didn't mean anything. What then?" The dark figure doesn't understand. Coraline understands at age 12 that the wish to be given everything your heart desires is a foolishly empty one. What meaning would your life have if you got everything you wanted? What would you have to dream about, to strive for? Such a lesson from a novel written for young people.
If you have not seen the movie or read the book, I encourage you to do so. Watch the movie first. As excellent as it is, the book is far superior to the film (which is always the way it is, and in my humble opinion, always should be). Coraline is an excellent role model for girls. She is an excellent model for boys as well, but so much of the literature available for young people focuses on male protagonists. It is good to have a tale where the girl is the hero. This is an excellent book (and movie) for a young girl to experience and learn from. It is storytelling at its finest, a tale that entertains, moves, scares, and ultimately teaches. What more could we want from a book or a movie for our children?
It also has many important lessons and reminders for all of us "grown-ups" as well.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The BSOD - a TRUE International Problem.
Tomorrow at approximately 3:30 PM Eastern Standard Time it will have been one week since a great tragedy occurred. The foul pestilence that has darkened my soul is not something that is uniquely mine to endure. This horrid occurrence happens to many and goes by different names in many different parts of the world.
In Germany the event is know as Der Blaue Schirm des Todes und der Geschlechtskrankheit. It is accompanied by much swearing and forced consumption of NON-ALCOHOLIC beer, the likes of which my PG rated blog will not allow me to describe. Know that not even the call of Oktoberfest can break a person from the hold of the Blaue Schrim (or the Geschlechtskrankheit for that matter).
In Italy, Lo Schermo Blu Ha Assassinato La Mia Madre Ed Ha Causato Ai Miei Bambini La Grande Vergogna as it has come to be known, affects the entire community. When it strikes, a solemn parade is formed, with the dead machine laid out in a tiny coffin. The march begins at the afflicted's household and drags its way through the streets of town to the door of the local stregone di calcolatore. The afflicted's family is required to dress in black every day they are kept apart, until they are reunited.
La Pantalla Azul Ha Dañado Mi Alma, Causada Mi Perro Para Ir Estéril, Y Causado Dios A Dar Vuelta De Mí En Vergüenza is cause for great sorrow in Spanish speaking countries. There is a direct link between the suicide rates of middle aged men and this horrible event.
The Chinese government denies that 不甚而Godzilla可能击败的蓝色屏幕 occurs but smuggled cell phone videos and You Tube footage say other wise. Truly the 蓝色屏幕 is an international scourge that needs to be addressed.
Here in America you may have experienced this traumatic event yourself. There is no support group you can attend, no 12-Step-Program-To-Recovery you can purchase. Here, as in other nations around the world, you are on your own, left to seek refuge in a world that has been violently turned upside down.
I have attempted the following penances to help gain absolution from this vile affront to simple happiness. Some have worked...others have not.
- Curl up in a fetal ball for days on end, sucking on a thumb while drooling profusely and muttering the word "blue" over and over again.
- Construct an effigy of Bill Gates from blue Play-Doh.
- Burn the effigy in the backyard, using copious amounts of gasoline if the Play-Doh will not light. An M-80 can also be used if you have access to one.
- Plead ignorance with the county fire marshal when he arrives to arrest you for breaking several ordinances.
- Prank call Bill Gates and tell him, using a Franco-Hungarian accent, that Steve Jobs is more of a man than he will ever be. Cackle manically. Then hang up.
- Head to a house of worship. When the local cleric asks of you your problem, inform him of your desire to cure the screen of blue. Ignore, as best you can, the echoes of his laughter when you try to sleep at night.
- Set off the sprinkler system in the local Apple store in the hopes that you might appease the gods of Microsoft that they might have pity upon your festering soul.
- Paint yourself an electric blue color from head to toe. Hang a sign around your neck that says VISTA. Then walk around the local mall babbling aloud that your boot record is corrupted.
- Attempt to construct a functional laptop using your daughter's Lite-Brite and a Sony Walkman. Burst into hysterical tears when this pathetic attempt fails.
- Try not to scream too loudly when you awaken at 3 in the morning for the 5th night in a row with the phantom feel of your laptop keys lovingly caressing the tips of your fingers.
- Write a pointless blog post about your problem, attempting to distract yourself with the mediocre use of humor. When your wife reads the post and doesn't think it is very funny, don't let her see how a piece of you dies inside.
If anyone else out there has other ways of dealing with The Blue Screen of Death...please...for the love of all that is bright, shiny, and NOT BLUE...help me, because as they say in Holland, "Het blauwe Scherm heeft me machteloos gemaakt en veroorzaakt mijn vrouw de naar liefde van de een andere mens en niet zelfs ABBA kan streven helpen...".
If you desire to know the English equivalent of the German, Italian, Spanish, Chinese, and Dutch phrases used in this blog post, I have included them in the comments section of the blog. Or you can plug them into Yahoo's Babel Fish and experience the joy of finding out for yourself.
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