Friday, November 22, 2013

Fifty Years Ago Today

I can't believe I'm writing two posts in one week, after a year of mostly no posts. But this has been a week of anniversaries, not just any anniversaries, but ones that feel especially personal to me. The newspaper is full of articles today about the Kennedy assassination. I read every single one. It was a compulsion, to see what this one and that one said or remembered. They took me back, tears and all.

I was in eleventh grade, a junior in high school. It was fourth or fifth period, Mr. Taylor's chemistry class, when three girls rushed into the room after the bell rang to signal next period. "The President's been shot in Dallas," they reported, like they couldn't believe it. Half of my classmates were on their way out the door and the other half scattered between chairs, still stacking books in their arms to leave. I was one of the stragglers who overheard the news.

My feet led me along the crammed, bustling hallway, but my head was lost in a fog. Maybe I met my boyfriend who  walked me to my next class, maybe not. Some details are lost. Surely, the President will survive, and everything will return to normal. He can't die. That would be too much of a fluke, a shock, in the rock-solid realm of things that just don't happen. Not in America where we live.

The whole Irish-American Kennedy clan was committed to public service and overcoming injustices in society. At the time, Jack Kennedy appeared to be perfect. The epitome of a good-looking, all-American guy from a filthy rich family with homes in Boston, DC area, and Cape Cod. He was a WWII hero, sailor, played touch football, went to Harvard, was close to his family, started the Peace Corps, hung out with Hollywood stars (Marilyn Monroe popped out of his birthday cake!), and his brother Bobby was Attorney General, for goodness sakes. Jackie was gorgeous, elegant, mysterious, had impeccable taste in clothes and White House decor, was a mother to two perfect children (lost a newborn only weeks before), and was poised beyond anything you'd ever learn in charm school. Upper crust too, the wedding in Newport. Together, they were a youthful, vibrant symbol of hope and promise for our futures, and the future of our country. We knew they would succeed, and so could we.

But it wasn't to be. Over the public address system, during Ms. Sipple's American History class, Mr. Bruce, our principal, announced that "President Kenney died today, in Dallas."

In that instant, Camelot vanished. The whole country was in collective mourning, watching TV for hours on end, for days. First came reruns of Walter Cronkite's impossible news flash, then LBJ swearing in as the new president on Air Force One, Jackie in the blood-stained pink suit that she refused to change, Jack Ruby shooting Oswald, the casket in the Capitol Rotunda, the widow in black, a veil over her face, Caroline and John-John in winter coats holding their mother's hands, and him saluting the horse-drawn carriage that held his father's body. There was the procession...masses lined up to watch the march through the streets of our nation's capital, all the way to Arlington National Cemetery and the eternal flame. She asked for that, and it was delivered.

For whatever it's worth, we learned a lot more about Jack through the years -- his shortcomings, affairs, failures, and triumphs. His presidency was cut short, only 1,000 days. Countless books have been written, movies made, and theories promoted to explain the assassination. The simplest is the one I buy. The sheer shock of it all is forever etched in my memory, just as Pearl Harbor was for my parents, and 911 has been for my children. Each led to a loss of innocence for our generation. And that, perhaps, is the reason we mourn -- for ourselves, as well as the country as a whole, and why it feels so personal.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

An Anniversary of Words

One-hundred-fifty years ago this week, Abraham Lincoln stood at Gettysburg to deliver a speech that has become part of our national identity. A man of simple means who was born in Kentucky and lost his mother when he was nine years old, Abraham Lincoln became a president of extraordinary intelligence, humanity, and eloquence. Visiting Gettysburg, the first time about fifteen years ago, and again in 2011with friends from New Zealand (see photos below), I walked the battlefield and witnessed the place where President Lincoln spoke the words that we celebrate today. It was an humbling experience to be there, and it is equally humbling to read and recall these words again. The spirit of the Gettysburg Address is relevant to all battlefields where people have given their lives for freedom, wherever that may be in the world, however elusive the goal.

Title Field
The Gettysburg Address
The Gettysburg National Cemetery was dedicated by President Abraham Lincoln a brief four months after the Battle. Lincoln's speech lasted only two minutes, but it went into history as the immortal Gettysburg Address. 
"Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . . can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . . we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . . and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . . shall not perish from the earth. "
More information about President Lincoln and the Gettysburg Address.






Sunday, November 17, 2013

The Big Screen Contenders

There have been so many amazing films in 2013 that I can't wait until year's end. I have to talk about some of them now, in preparation for the March Academy Awards party we'll host for family. Ballot cards include all the Oscar categories. The person with the most perfect picks wins the prize!! So here goes…and the nominees are...

Dallas Buyers Club: A very gaunt Matthew McConaughey dominates as Ron Woodruff, the HIV/AIDS- stricken wheeler dealer from a hometown Dallas trailer park where rodeos and sex trios reign supreme and sometimes overlap -- i.e. the opening scene, so don't miss it. The guy has guts. He  overcomes homophobic instincts to reject all the wallflowers, sunflowers, and other flowers who suffer from HIV/AIDS, to advocate for meds and vitamins that allow him (and them) to survive years beyond his original death sentence of thirty days. This after a near death experience from high doses of AZT that he bought on the downlow from a hospital orderly who's paid handsomely for his trouble. Desperate for a cure, Ron finds a clinic south of the border dishing out cocktails of safer drugs and vitamin regimens to raise T-levels and keep patients alive. Determined to survive and make some bucks while he's at it, he travels the globe for drugs and signs desperate AIDS patients up for the Dallas Buyers Club. Drugs are guaranteed as long as you pay your monthly dues. There's no end to the challenges along the way -- FDA officials, customs officers, good and bad cops, good and bad docs, the old hometown gang, and of course, death. Poignant, riveting, informative. Maybe a best actor nomination.

12 Years A Slave: A shocking, painful journey of an educated African American man who's plucked from his comfortable family life in the northeast and tricked into slavery in Louisiana.  The person on whom the film is based wrote the book by the same name in the late 1800's. The cinematography, like the closeup of the Mississippi steamer's paddlewheel that forces water through its blades in rhythmic bursts, matches the harsh reality of the main character's many predicaments. The slave owners of the South are depicted as cruel, crude and opportunistic toward their human property. Slaves are bought,  sold, beaten, and raped without any consideration for families, bodies, or humanity. The plantation scenes are raw as we bear witness to them 150 years later. The characters jump off the screen -- a refined, educated black man whose fortitude allows him to endure until justice catches up and he's saved by a white man, his friend from home; a crazed white owner whose dark, delirious passion drives him to abuse a young black girl repeatedly; the young black girl whose physical wounds are second only to the psychological damage that has taken hold; and another white owner who shows short-lived compassion, but fails to deliver when push comes to shove. Several award nominations are guaranteed.

Captain Phillips: Played by Tom Hanks, this guy kept me on the edge of my seat the whole entire movie, and I knew the ending, so it wasn't as if I feared the worst.  Surviving to the finale was an exercise in patience amid terror. The fact that this was based on a true story, although depicted through the lens of a Hollywood movie director, gave it even more zeal and blood-curdling power. So what if a certain scene was fabricated? We know it's all in the realm of possibility for anyone captured by Somali pirates who are beholden to warlords in a country without a heart, soul, or credible leader. So, for that reason, I don't hold it against the producers who brought the story to life. The basic story and reality of terror is believable. The zinger, however, came after the movie was out. According to the New York Daily News (Oct. 7, 2013), crew members are suing the shipping company because they wandered within 260 miles of the Somali coast. They were instructed to stay at least 600 miles out. Many hold the good captain responsible. That sequel will air in court in December!

Gravity: Who doesn't like watching two beautiful Hollywood actors float around in space and maneuver in the intimate quarters of a celestial cockpit until things go wrong, get fixed, go wrong again, get fixed again, yadda, yadda, yadda? The mostly quiet ambience of the film and performances delivered by Sandra Bullock and George Clooney was so mesmerizing that I found myself pulled into the surreal universe beyond planet Earth without any hint of takeoff. I was there, with them, contemplating the next invasion of cosmic debris. Bullock is surely worthy of an Oscar nomination, but Clooney's time on screen is limited. He did his usual, and left the girl behind. No nomination for him.

The Butler: In the tradition of old Hollywood movies, this one has it all -- a sympathetic boy who's forced to tolerate the brutality toward his parents at the hands of a white slave owner (one is raped and the other is killed); a heroic climb up the segregated job and social ladders that leads to the White House, marriage, a family, and a comfortable life; the deep divides of the 60s, which take their toll on his family; and the history of the civil rights movement demonstrated by presidents who occupied the White House. Forrest Whittaker delivers, Oprah shines, and the film sparkles from beginning to end. Call it whatever you like, I loved it, twice. It's my history. I lived those years. I fought those injustices. I nominate both leads.

Blue Jasmine: Cate Blanchett's performance as the wife of the New York stockbroker Alec Baldwin who takes everyone down the rabbit hole with him when all Hell breaks loose in the economic crush of 2008 is superb. Classic Woody Allen against the bright lights, tall buildings, and upscale lifestyles of New York City. She'll be a sure nomination boosted by the final scene of her in the park.

All Is Lost: I sat riveted during the entire voyage in the South Pacific, fascinated by a man's sheer determination and strength to survive the elements and hope for rescue, first on his sailboat, and later, on his lifeboat. It would be less than truthful to omit that I was hypnotized by Robert Redford's performance, but I've always been hypnotized by him. Other than that, I don't have a lot more to say. Is that the mark of a four-star movie?  Maybe. Will he be nominated? Surely. The movie? Probably.

Before Midnight: It's been so long since we saw this little gem, that my moment-by-moment reactions to it are dulled by time. But the ones that linger in memory are worth noting. This is a relationship that has matured beyond the one first seen in Before Sunrise (1995) when the couple meets on a train in Europe, and later in Before Sunset (2004) when they meet again at a book signing for him. Same actors different decades. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I didn't' see the earlier versions, only read the reviews and recall the chatter. Judy Delpy and Ethan Hawke starred in all three, the latest one set in a seaside Greek village where they vacation with their children and friends at a family home overlooking the sea. More comfortable and less enamored with each other, the couple is gifted a night at a hotel in town without the kids. That's when the brutal argument erupts. What married couple hasn't had one of these? Something small simmers below the surface until it explodes into something gigantic. Eventually (hours, days or weeks), it fizzles into the comfort of time, history, and place. The sumptuous backdrop of the charming European countryside and the midnight table by the water is intoxicating. The mature love and enduring romance ring with authenticity. Not likely for Oscar nods, but worth the rental.

Mud: A gritty fugitive meets two ragamuffin teen boys, each with his own fantasy about the secretive Robinson Crusoe deserted island that's a boat ride away from the Arkansas river town where life is not so perfect and much of the action emerges. Throw in a thwarted romance that inspires the boys to somehow reconnect Matthew McConaughey's character with the Reese Witherspoon love of his life, and you have plenty of complications. That's because the fugitive is on the most wanted list of the local authorities for a string of minor to major run-ins with the law. It's an honest, well-honed performance by McConaughey that has even more power because of the contrast to the innocence of the boys whose lives could easily go in his direction, given just enough wrong moves. Not sure, but maybe a nomination somewhere in those Mississippi swamps.

The Sapphires: This was the sleeper of the year for me, my Searching for Sugarman. Aborigine girls from down under win a contest to entertain soldiers in Vietnam. Before the journey begins, however, they're trained by a would-be opportunist promoter played by Chris O'Dowd, who blew me away in this role. He's the guy who takes these  diamonds in the rough, singing country music, and turns them into blazing hot sapphires belting out soul tunes with all the right notes and moves. He's roguish, charming, adventurous, spirited, hilarious, and beguiling. Heart and soul. The perfect foil to the girls' innocent, spunky, tenacious, adventurous, sensual, and courageous hearts and souls. It's a story that's born against the backdrop of the white man's injustices toward the native population in Oz, and plays into the 1960s era of missteps in Vietnam that leave too many dead, too many addicted, too many wounded, and too many confused by the fog of war. The girls are triumphant and O'Dowd is the hero. MUST SEE MOVIE based on a real story. I nominate O'Dowd and the movie for Oscar consideration.


Tuesday, October 22, 2013

True Confessions


Since I screwed up so royally on blog updates this year, I’m taking a peek at the other New Year’s resolutions. Time to fess up. Here’s the report card:

       Enter a post on my blogpage at least once a weekFailed. Already wrote about my sorry excuses and promise to do better (see blog below).

       Add a warm yoga class to my exercise routine, for 3 days of yoga plus 3 days of gym a weekNot. Backed down since I realized I already have more than my share of hot flashes! Added a walk day with a new friend.

       Take another UCSD class on fiction writing (check -- last Wednesday) – Blue Ribbon. I’m hot to trot, attending weekly critique group with fabulous fellow scribes and one astute teacher who penned murder mysteries after a law career. She keeps us on our toes. We keep coming back for more.

       Ship my YA novel off to a publisher/editor/agent by AprilDelayed. I do have a life and did escape for trips, so this is delayed gratification. Making revisions suggested by former YA editor and LOVING IT! She added line editing on her December calendar, and I added an agent search in January.

       Hike at least once a monthYIKES. Trekked up one very steep mountain in February with new hiking group, daughter Amy and friend Jann. The 800-foot ascent they estimated was actually 2,400 feet, which sent me into one of my infrequent, but still famous, vaso-vegal attacks that night. That group is off our island. Maybe 4-5 hikes since, but need to ratchet it up since Patagonia is calling -- South America in February.

       Eat really good food during the week and kick alcohol and other sugary treats to the weekendsBlue Ribbon. True confession – sometimes cheat with a glass of wine one weekday and always cheat on vacations. Unintended consequence – lost five pounds!

       Pull up worn carpet in the living/dining room and lay down hardwoods (check -- on Monday)Blue Ribbon. We love the look of rustic wood beneath our furniture and the feel of smooth dark wood to our feet.

       Do something with my daughters monthly and my sister at least twice a monthNeeds Improvement. All the girls are SUPER BUSY with kids and work, but lunch works a few times a year. Mother’s Day was a treat when Betsy, Amy, and I took the boys to dinner and ice cream. My sister Mila and I conspire weekly on the book I’m writing about her triumphs over bipolar disorder. It’s been an amazing journey that we both cherish.


       Do something fun with grandkids at least once a monthNeeds Improvement. This is a big kahuna for me, so I have to be pretty persistent to land a spot on the calendar of teenage boys. But they do like to go out to eat and see movies, so I do work my way in.

       Plan more time with writer friends and girlfriendsBlue Ribbon. Took a fabulous girls trip to Colorado mountains in September with high school friends, walking weekly with a new neighbor, and enjoying plays with a writer friend.

       Do a good deed for someone outside my family dailyNeeds Improvement. So many people are going through so many challenges these days, due to aging issues, the economy, and health problems. I can do more.

       Host another bitchin' Kentucky Derby Party the first Saturday in MayBouquet of Roses. Most fun party ever. Guests take on a celebrity name, guzzle mint juleps, visit the Derby Room, meet other exotic guests, and even win money if they bet on the right horse. How can you beat that?  We always threaten that we can’t do it again, but still going, with hired help now. Best part -- grandson Riley jammed jazz on keyboard, earning $70 in fishbowl tips!

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

The Blogging Spirits

One of my New Year's resolutions was to blog every week during 2013, and you might wonder what happened to that one. My heart was in the right place, but my navigation of the blogspot went way south. Time and again, I tried to patiently figure out what happened. Why was I unable to post my new items? Finally, I called a blog consultant who helps people like me create a blog page. She also was very patient, tried several different approaches, and ended up like me, stumped. Solution? Start a new blog.

Thus the birth of Vicki's Vineyard. I will cultivate new thoughts and ideas, and nurture them into posts, much like growing vines and grapes, and harvesting the fruit into wine. Here you'll find a  variety of topics, bouquets and finishes appealing to a wide range of tastes.