Any of us who has ever had a dog ... or even loves dogs needs to take a break and go see the movie "Marley & Me" this holiday season.
It is a fairly accurate portrayal of John Grogan's bestselling book of a few years ago about a family that adopts a dog that ... well ... gets into everything.
The slapstick humor you may have seen in the TV ads is only part of the story. Like the book, the movie is really about a family's up-and-down relationship with its pet ... and vice versa.
Dogs (and, to a lesser extent, cats) do nice things for us. They make us smile and make us grunt. They don't demand much -- just our promise to take care of them. In return, they will be fiercely loyal and will do as well as they can to bring cheer to our lives. It's a simple bargain. We don't do nearly as well with people when it comes to such things.
There is a touching scene near the end when Luke Wilson and Marley are sitting in the sun in a meadow. Wilson stares at the nice view and murmurs to Marley, "You'll let me know when the time is right, won't you, old boy?" The dog merely snuggles closer to Wilson. The bond is clear - both trust each other.
I understand there are people who don't like dogs for reasons that may well be legitimate. Still, I find it unfortunate for them this is the case. When I return home from work or play, the first sighting of Pete in the front window wagging his tail in anticipation always makes me feel good.
This movie, despite its sad ending (that rivals the book), did the same thing. And when is the last time you walked out of a theater with a smile on your face and a light heart?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
A lovely holiday
The mad rush (for presents) is over. The mad rush (to enjoy the rest of the holiday season) is on.
As one gets older, one discovers there are several ways of enjoying holidays. In the end, it is one that suits your needs the best that is the only one that really matters.
One friend of mine told me he was taking three hours each morning this week and next and simply devoting it to himself. If he wanted to read a book, he would. If he wanted to sit with his dog on his lap and stare at the lake while listening to music, he would. No interruptions would be allowed. Things could wait until noon when he would be happy to interact with all interested parties.
Another went to Florida to spend 10 days with the family. This person likes her life in the Twin Cities and the job that goes with it. However, no matter how often one communicates with family on the phone and over the internet, there is a need for face-to-face contact. When this person returns to town next week, I suspect she will do so with a smile on her face, a relaxed heart and plenty of memories to keep her going until the next trip.
Another friend of mine is hurting this holiday season over the end of a longterm relationship and all the ugly ramifications and sideshows that go with it. No matter how often one goes through it (whether it happens to you or someone you care about), breakups sting. Each of us recover in our own way. Words of comfort that are well intended often fall on deaf ears because the person involved simply isn't ready to move on. So, the person in question here simply withdrew into a cocoon, choosing to spend the holiday alone. This may not sound like a great way to spend the season to many of us. But if it works for this person, so be it.
My holiday refuge came in a five year old movie "Love Actually." It is the story of several relationships at Christmastime in England. There are complications in all of them. Some end happily but some do not.
It's hard to believe but art occasionally does imitate life.
There is great music being played throughout and we get to see actors such as Liam Neeson, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson and Laura Linney take a step away from the serious roles they are known for and give us things to laugh at (and a few moments that make you shake your head sadly as well.) I find I can watch this movie damn near every day and see something I didn't see before ... and smile at scenes that are as funny on the 100th viewing as they were on the first. The bonus this time was commentary on the DVD from the director and some of the actors on scenes in the movie. A second bonus is the inclusion of some scenes that didn't make the final print. This helps to explain things that puzzled me about the movie ... while tossing in some more laughs.
So, you see there are many ways to celebrate these two weeks ... without giving in to the needs of others.
It's not too late (is it?) to suggest you pick the way that suits your needs and, as a popular ad suggests, Simply Do it. There are 50 other weeks in the year in which we accede to the wishes of our bosses, SOs, kids and pets. Perhaps if we did type of relaxing and recreating more than once a year, we might not be a country that seems to be at each other's throats all the time.
Now there's a happy thought for the holidays.
As one gets older, one discovers there are several ways of enjoying holidays. In the end, it is one that suits your needs the best that is the only one that really matters.
One friend of mine told me he was taking three hours each morning this week and next and simply devoting it to himself. If he wanted to read a book, he would. If he wanted to sit with his dog on his lap and stare at the lake while listening to music, he would. No interruptions would be allowed. Things could wait until noon when he would be happy to interact with all interested parties.
Another went to Florida to spend 10 days with the family. This person likes her life in the Twin Cities and the job that goes with it. However, no matter how often one communicates with family on the phone and over the internet, there is a need for face-to-face contact. When this person returns to town next week, I suspect she will do so with a smile on her face, a relaxed heart and plenty of memories to keep her going until the next trip.
Another friend of mine is hurting this holiday season over the end of a longterm relationship and all the ugly ramifications and sideshows that go with it. No matter how often one goes through it (whether it happens to you or someone you care about), breakups sting. Each of us recover in our own way. Words of comfort that are well intended often fall on deaf ears because the person involved simply isn't ready to move on. So, the person in question here simply withdrew into a cocoon, choosing to spend the holiday alone. This may not sound like a great way to spend the season to many of us. But if it works for this person, so be it.
My holiday refuge came in a five year old movie "Love Actually." It is the story of several relationships at Christmastime in England. There are complications in all of them. Some end happily but some do not.
It's hard to believe but art occasionally does imitate life.
There is great music being played throughout and we get to see actors such as Liam Neeson, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson and Laura Linney take a step away from the serious roles they are known for and give us things to laugh at (and a few moments that make you shake your head sadly as well.) I find I can watch this movie damn near every day and see something I didn't see before ... and smile at scenes that are as funny on the 100th viewing as they were on the first. The bonus this time was commentary on the DVD from the director and some of the actors on scenes in the movie. A second bonus is the inclusion of some scenes that didn't make the final print. This helps to explain things that puzzled me about the movie ... while tossing in some more laughs.
So, you see there are many ways to celebrate these two weeks ... without giving in to the needs of others.
It's not too late (is it?) to suggest you pick the way that suits your needs and, as a popular ad suggests, Simply Do it. There are 50 other weeks in the year in which we accede to the wishes of our bosses, SOs, kids and pets. Perhaps if we did type of relaxing and recreating more than once a year, we might not be a country that seems to be at each other's throats all the time.
Now there's a happy thought for the holidays.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A memorable Christmas ... 40 years ago
Tis the time of year for reflecting on Christmases past. Many of us can recall a favorite toy we got or the year the tree fell down or some such thing.
This week, I found myself thinking of Christmas in 1968. The irony is I can't tell you if I got a book, a baseball or even handkerchiefs. The gift I do remember was, as the saying goes in the commercials, priceless.
In early December of that year, Mom suffered some kind of seizure at work. I was just 15 and away at school at the time and was given only the necessary information. All I knew was Mom was very ill and she might not even get home for Christmas.
It was up to my brothers and myself to put the house in Holiday order. We went out and got a tree and decorated it. I don't remember much of the details but it was quite a feat for the four boys, age 15-21, to agree on ornament placement and to work together to turn the tree into a masterpiece.
As soon as we got the word that Mom's doctor was going to allow her to come home for Christmas, we promptly cleaned the house from the attic to the basement. It could have passed a white glove test and even the nuns at St. Francis could have bounced quarters on our beds successfully.
Not everything went perfectly. The first night the tree was up, the cat climbed up and sent it crashing to the floor. (We ended up tying it to a window sill.) Mom had originally bought the cat as a gift for me but she had a special fondness for him. The day she was supposed to come home, he was a muddy mess. I took him to the sink and gave him a bath. Even put a towel in the dryer for him to be warm. The cat took the bath without comment and seemed to love the warm towel. But when I turned my head for a second, he bit my earlobe so hard I bled like crazy. Nobody had ever told me how much some cats disliked water.
My brothers brought Mom home from the hospital with the warning she would be weak and we needed to be careful. When she got into the house, one of the first things she saw a cage with a huge bird in it. "Do you like it? We didn't have time to wrap your gift," said my brother Paul, who was known as the serious one in the family.
"Oh, no," she said, sitting weakly on the couch. "You didn't, did you?"
I'll never forget Mom's smile when she was told we were simply housesitting the bird for a friend of ours who had gone to Florida for the holidays. She knew she had been royally had ... and I suspect she liked the idea a lot.
Nothing was said but I think we all understood this could very well be our last Christmas with Mom. (It turned out to be the case. She passed away the following May.)
Mom had always made Christmas great for us and now we tried to do the same for her. As I recall, my older brothers Frank and John did most of the cooking. (My culinary contribution was mastering a new contraption in the house called a toaster oven.)
Paul, who was very good at these things, did a lot of the cleaning around the house. (There was one odd diversion: the bird, who was fairly quiet, would screech loudly when the vacuum was used. Although our house had a lot of animals in it from time to time, birds were never part of the equation. Now I know why.) I walked the dog without protest, cleaned up the cat's litter daily and attempted to be less than a pain-in-the-butt to my brothers than usual.
The literal memory stops there. I can't tell you a single physical gift I received. But what I can still recall is a general feeling of happiness around the house that year. Even Dad, who was having so many problems with depression he needed to be hospitalized to handle them, came home for Christmas Day dinner and was playful and cheerful.
This was Christmas 40 years ago and I can remember it like it was yesterday.
So this is my holiday wish this year: no matter what your form of celebration is this week (or next), may it be one where peace, harmony and a feeling of good feelings reign in your household. In these tough economic times, we may not be able to give as many physical gifts as usual. Sometimes, however, the best ones you give can't be measured with a pricetag. Best of all, nobody ever wants to return them.
This week, I found myself thinking of Christmas in 1968. The irony is I can't tell you if I got a book, a baseball or even handkerchiefs. The gift I do remember was, as the saying goes in the commercials, priceless.
In early December of that year, Mom suffered some kind of seizure at work. I was just 15 and away at school at the time and was given only the necessary information. All I knew was Mom was very ill and she might not even get home for Christmas.
It was up to my brothers and myself to put the house in Holiday order. We went out and got a tree and decorated it. I don't remember much of the details but it was quite a feat for the four boys, age 15-21, to agree on ornament placement and to work together to turn the tree into a masterpiece.
As soon as we got the word that Mom's doctor was going to allow her to come home for Christmas, we promptly cleaned the house from the attic to the basement. It could have passed a white glove test and even the nuns at St. Francis could have bounced quarters on our beds successfully.
Not everything went perfectly. The first night the tree was up, the cat climbed up and sent it crashing to the floor. (We ended up tying it to a window sill.) Mom had originally bought the cat as a gift for me but she had a special fondness for him. The day she was supposed to come home, he was a muddy mess. I took him to the sink and gave him a bath. Even put a towel in the dryer for him to be warm. The cat took the bath without comment and seemed to love the warm towel. But when I turned my head for a second, he bit my earlobe so hard I bled like crazy. Nobody had ever told me how much some cats disliked water.
My brothers brought Mom home from the hospital with the warning she would be weak and we needed to be careful. When she got into the house, one of the first things she saw a cage with a huge bird in it. "Do you like it? We didn't have time to wrap your gift," said my brother Paul, who was known as the serious one in the family.
"Oh, no," she said, sitting weakly on the couch. "You didn't, did you?"
I'll never forget Mom's smile when she was told we were simply housesitting the bird for a friend of ours who had gone to Florida for the holidays. She knew she had been royally had ... and I suspect she liked the idea a lot.
Nothing was said but I think we all understood this could very well be our last Christmas with Mom. (It turned out to be the case. She passed away the following May.)
Mom had always made Christmas great for us and now we tried to do the same for her. As I recall, my older brothers Frank and John did most of the cooking. (My culinary contribution was mastering a new contraption in the house called a toaster oven.)
Paul, who was very good at these things, did a lot of the cleaning around the house. (There was one odd diversion: the bird, who was fairly quiet, would screech loudly when the vacuum was used. Although our house had a lot of animals in it from time to time, birds were never part of the equation. Now I know why.) I walked the dog without protest, cleaned up the cat's litter daily and attempted to be less than a pain-in-the-butt to my brothers than usual.
The literal memory stops there. I can't tell you a single physical gift I received. But what I can still recall is a general feeling of happiness around the house that year. Even Dad, who was having so many problems with depression he needed to be hospitalized to handle them, came home for Christmas Day dinner and was playful and cheerful.
This was Christmas 40 years ago and I can remember it like it was yesterday.
So this is my holiday wish this year: no matter what your form of celebration is this week (or next), may it be one where peace, harmony and a feeling of good feelings reign in your household. In these tough economic times, we may not be able to give as many physical gifts as usual. Sometimes, however, the best ones you give can't be measured with a pricetag. Best of all, nobody ever wants to return them.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Snow ... in the desert?
Okay, so we go to Laughlin, NV for a few days of vacation. The vacation is fine and we are headed back, a little poorer but somewhat refreshed to Las Vegas to fly home. It's raining when we leave but that's no big deal. Now we get to Searchlight, the small town that is the home of Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, that is about halfway back.
And what do we see? A blinding snowstorm. In the desert, no less.
I kid ye not. Here is the proof:
It did not make me yearn for home.
And what do we see? A blinding snowstorm. In the desert, no less.
I kid ye not. Here is the proof:
It did not make me yearn for home.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Winter rules
Winter has finally arrived in St. Paul. It snowed an inch or two on Saturday and we had a flurry or two of activity yesterday as well.
Funny thing about this town. It changes in winter. In the summer, things are languid and slow moving. But when the first serious snow hits the ground, the old place seems to perk up. Despite the crappy economic news out of Detroit these days, people just seemed more upbeat and mobile the past few days. Even my invisible neighbor (a woman who has lived next door to me us for five years or so but never speaks to anybody) was cheerfully out shoveling yesterday.
Pete, the happy dog, was also on top of his game yesterday, making doggy angels in the middle of the street as we strolled through the hood. Later, he bounded to and fro in the backyard, barking cheerfully at squirrels instead of with his usual venom aimed at intruders to his private preserve.
I am never quite sure what to make of this euphoria. I suspect it is the general feeling we're all in this winter thing together here. So you might as well relax and make the best of it.
Whatever the reason, as crazy as this sounds, I think many Minnesotans like the start of winter better than the start of summer. Come mid-January, we'll probably be singing a different tune. For now, however, people seem upbeat. Wonder if that is true in Alaska as well?
Funny thing about this town. It changes in winter. In the summer, things are languid and slow moving. But when the first serious snow hits the ground, the old place seems to perk up. Despite the crappy economic news out of Detroit these days, people just seemed more upbeat and mobile the past few days. Even my invisible neighbor (a woman who has lived next door to me us for five years or so but never speaks to anybody) was cheerfully out shoveling yesterday.
Pete, the happy dog, was also on top of his game yesterday, making doggy angels in the middle of the street as we strolled through the hood. Later, he bounded to and fro in the backyard, barking cheerfully at squirrels instead of with his usual venom aimed at intruders to his private preserve.
I am never quite sure what to make of this euphoria. I suspect it is the general feeling we're all in this winter thing together here. So you might as well relax and make the best of it.
Whatever the reason, as crazy as this sounds, I think many Minnesotans like the start of winter better than the start of summer. Come mid-January, we'll probably be singing a different tune. For now, however, people seem upbeat. Wonder if that is true in Alaska as well?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
When is enough ... enough?
Stanley Woodward was a well-known sports editor in New York in the 1950s and 1960s who once grumbled his writers were spending too much time "godding up the athletes" and not enough time doing actual reporting.
I found myself wondering what Woodward, Red Smith and the rest of the old gang would be saying today. The news out of New York is a fellow named Plaxico Burress, a very good wide receiver for the New York football Giants, is in a load of trouble. Seems the fellow, who was supposed to be nursing an injury, went to one of the city's nightclubs and somehow ended up shooting himself in the leg with a gun he had in his pocket. That would be bad enough but, since this fellow is a well-known athlete, a lot of people started running interference to keep the information from the police and everybody else.
The police, naturally, took a dim view of this. New York Mayor Mike Bloomberg sensed a media opening and poured through with a series of loud complaints that is making the local media giddy.
Bloomberg may be grandstanding a bit when he complains about the Giants and the NFL working overtime to keep the issue quiet (what did he think they would do?) but his main point is a solid one: now that we know what the guy did, he shouldn't avoid paying the same penalty you and I would for such an infraction.
But that is not how we do things in this country. The Big Three automakers run their businesses into the ground and Congress gives them all the money they want to stay afloat. A celebrity gets into legal trouble and ends up on probation for something that would send you and I to the clink.
We spend so much time godding up athletes, movie stars and CEOs that we have forgotten a basic fact: take away their money, fame and good looks and they are no different than us. In fact, when the time comes to head to the next life, there is not a damn thing a Donald Trump can do about it. Eventually, he will end up looking like me.
Eventually, enough will be enough. Mr. Burress may be doing society a favor that is long overdue. He may provide the impetus needed for us to respect celebs and CEOs for their accomplishments while still treating them like anybody else. If so, his shot in the leg is a welcome shot in the arm at a time when this country needed one.
I found myself wondering what Woodward, Red Smith and the rest of the old gang would be saying today. The news out of New York is a fellow named Plaxico Burress, a very good wide receiver for the New York football Giants, is in a load of trouble. Seems the fellow, who was supposed to be nursing an injury, went to one of the city's nightclubs and somehow ended up shooting himself in the leg with a gun he had in his pocket. That would be bad enough but, since this fellow is a well-known athlete, a lot of people started running interference to keep the information from the police and everybody else.
The police, naturally, took a dim view of this. New York Mayor Mike Bloomberg sensed a media opening and poured through with a series of loud complaints that is making the local media giddy.
Bloomberg may be grandstanding a bit when he complains about the Giants and the NFL working overtime to keep the issue quiet (what did he think they would do?) but his main point is a solid one: now that we know what the guy did, he shouldn't avoid paying the same penalty you and I would for such an infraction.
But that is not how we do things in this country. The Big Three automakers run their businesses into the ground and Congress gives them all the money they want to stay afloat. A celebrity gets into legal trouble and ends up on probation for something that would send you and I to the clink.
We spend so much time godding up athletes, movie stars and CEOs that we have forgotten a basic fact: take away their money, fame and good looks and they are no different than us. In fact, when the time comes to head to the next life, there is not a damn thing a Donald Trump can do about it. Eventually, he will end up looking like me.
Eventually, enough will be enough. Mr. Burress may be doing society a favor that is long overdue. He may provide the impetus needed for us to respect celebs and CEOs for their accomplishments while still treating them like anybody else. If so, his shot in the leg is a welcome shot in the arm at a time when this country needed one.
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