Hope vs. Fear

“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?”

I didn’t write that quote though it seems pulled straight from my heart (it’s actually from You’ve Got Mail). Those simple words have always touched me but never more so than now that I’m no spring chicken. I guess because I know that countless of my decisions in life are directly attributable to some fear or another, including the fact that I’m single and alone. If I’m honest with myself, I can admit that I’m alone in part because I never put myself out there, granted it could also be because I’m a short, slightly overweight nerd too. In my youth I never went on blind dates or tried online dating, I never went to a bar or a wild ‘n crazy party. While it’s true that I was my mom’s care giver the better part of my adult life and those bars or parties seemed an indulgence I couldn’t afford, since it would mean selfishly leaving her alone to go and have fun, I know in my heart that a part of me welcomed the excuse. Not being able to go because of mom, meant I wouldn’t have to go to a party and risk sitting alone, or go on a blind date and have the guy see me and make a quick U-turn out the door. Rejection has always been my greatest fear; quickly followed by fear of heights, public speaking, large crowds, roller coasters, etc., etc., etc. You get the point.

I wish I could say it was just my romantic life that’s borne the brunt of my insecurities, because my single status is just a matter of fact at this point, but there were other dreams put aside too. I once dreamed of being a writer and when I was younger I actually had the audacity, the temerity to sit down and actually write something, a screenplay. Young and bold, I submitted the screenplay to an online contest and got an honorable mention, but an honorable mention seemed just a kind way of saying it wasn’t good enough, and maybe it really wasn't but I didn't get any better either because it was easier to just quit than be rejected, so now it sits in my drawer collecting dust; and so every road not taken has left me where I am today.

A friend at work jokes about the fact that seemingly all roads lead to Connecticut because it’s where I go to every weekend. The truth is that when mom was with me she was the buffer for my fears, and now that she’s gone I’ve found another safety net in my boys and family. You don’t have to worry about new people liking you when you’re with people who already love you. I tell myself I have to see my knuckleheads every weekend because they need me and I know in part they do, but in reality I need them more; they, as well as my other family and friends, are my joy and a large part of why I might be alone, but I’m never lonely. But now that they are getting older and have less time for their old aunt, it’s a perfect time to branch out and experience new places and things and maybe even use that GPS I got as my 25th year anniversary gift at work.

So at the tender age of 46, actually 45 and 3/4, I’ve decided to live a little bigger; to try and let myself be guided by my hopes instead of my fears. I’m stepping outside of my comfort zone and setting some goals for myself. I’m starting with attending my office Christmas party; wow, don’t go all wild and crazy you say; I know, I know, but you’ve got to start somewhere. Baby steps as Dr. Leo Marvin would say; taking one small step at a time to reach one's goals (sorry for the obscure reference; it’s from What About Bob?, one of Bill Murray’s funniest movies, hey the words are no less insightful just because they come from a fake doctor).

About those goals – they’re not momentous, baby steps remember, but they are a start. I think by the time I’m 80 I’ll be ready for a first date, my Oscar speech, and maybe even some skydiving.

1. Go to the company Christmas party (almost a done deal, it's this coming Friday)
2. Begin writing again
3. Submit a completed screenplay or novel to an online contest or agent; if it fails try, try again…no quitting allowed
4. Visit a new city/place (frequency yet to be determined)
5. Visit Scotland (don’t know why it’s calling to me, but I’ve always wanted to go there; maybe my destiny awaits, it could be my soul mate or a runaway carriage (hmmm...in case of the second, maybe I should rethink the destination)
6. Go on a roller coaster (actually I take this one back, I’m OK with being a chicken in this regard)

Anyway, wish me luck; if my past track record is any indication, I think I’ll need it.

'Tis the Season

The holidays mean so many different things to different people. To some it’s a season of joy, filled with family, friends, gifts and shared memories; while to others it’s a time of sorrow or loneliness, as they dwell on what or whom they’re missing from their lives. Stress unfortunately is part and parcel of holidays even for the cheeriest of us; from out of town guests and holiday parties, to shopping for the perfect gift, to paying for that perfect gift.

In all of the hoopla of shopping, baking and candlestick making (sorry it’s corny, but it’s the only thing that rhymed which came to mind), we sometimes forget the true meaning of the season; we forget that the holidays aren’t (or shouldn’t be) about the best gift or the most gifts, it shouldn’t be about the parties or decorations, it’s really not about receiving at all. The holidays are about giving, not an X-Box or diamond ring, it’s about giving of yourself. It’s about extending a helping hand to someone in need or a hand of friendship to someone who’s lonely. Giving is the best gift we give the world and ourselves, for in giving we receive.

Take the time to give in small ways or large; drop off a toy at a Toys for Tots bin, drop a few dollars in a salvation army collection bucket, or drop off some cans at your church or synagogue or whatever house of worship you visit; and if you don’t visit any, then drop it off at a local shelter. There is no act of kindness too small to make a difference. A simple Barbie could be the only gift a child eagerly opens on Christmas morning. A can of soup might warm someone on a cold winter’s night. If funds are low, then better yet, give of yourself and your time. There is a proverb that says “If you have much, give of your wealth; If you have little, give of your heart.”

Volunteer your time at a soup kitchen, nursing home or hospital; or even an animal shelter, they need TLC too. I volunteer every Thursday at my town’s food pantry and once every couple of months (or sometimes more often) at Kid’s Kloset, a great organization which helps kids. Whether it becomes a part of your weekly schedule or something you do around the holidays, it’s not the amount of time or frequency that matters, it’s that you took the time to care, to think outside of your own stresses and worries (because we all have them), to put someone else first. You know what, you don’t even have to travel far to give, it could be an act of kindness for a friend or co-worker or even a neighbor. Need in all forms is all around us, we don’t have to look far, we just have to open our eyes and hearts to see it.

This holiday season don’t sweat the small stuff; it’s okay if the ham is a little dry, there’s a little dust on the furniture, or Aunt Sue gets the wrong shade of pink sweater. Remember to count your blessings and in your gratitude you’ll find peace; that dry ham means there's food on your table, that dusty furniture means there's a roof over your head, and Aunt Sue's grumbles means you have family gathered around you. It's in giving to others we give thanks for our own blessings.

Give hope, give peace, give love; each a priceless gift free of cost, and remember:

"We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give." Winston Churchill

The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow

I finished this magical novel late last night and like a special gift you can't wait to present to a treasured love one, I couldn't wait to share with all of you this captivating love story and its unique and memorable main character. In Rita Leganski's debut novel, The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow, it is 1949 in Bayou Cymbaline, Louisiana when William Arrow falls in love at first sight with Dancy Roman, saying "The curve of her cheekbone transfixed him; the sweep of her jaw threw him down; and the delicacy of her earlobe ran off with his heart." He was a lawyer and she was a waitress at a gumbo joint when they initially meet and slowly, after long walks and driving lessons, slip into courtship. They were opposites in countless ways but "it could never be said that one had fallen harder in love than the other" and so William and Dancy "became a destiny fulfilled" when at the justice of the peace they married and became three. Yes three, for on a beautiful afternoon filled with love and passion "tiny embryonic Bonaventure floated down a fallopian tube and settled in to grow."

Happy beyond their wildest imaginings the young married couple gloried in the day-to-day discoveries of marriage, like learning each others quirks and likes; like she sleeps on her side and he sleeps on his back, and marveled at the miracle they had created in their child. They sang him songs and excitedly watched Dancy's expanding belly for his every flutter and move, and Bonaventure hearing their harmonized breathing would let "the memory of their singing flow(ed) from his ears to his knees and down to his feet, where it caused him to wiggle his toes in his sleep." (See what I mean about magical. Can't you just imagine this little being doing just that. Basking in his parents love, before he's even joined this beautiful world.)

Tragedy strikes though and Dancy's beloved is ripped from her arms before Bonaventure is born, and when Bonaventure finally does arrive, he does so with nary a peep...silent...but with miraculous hearing. For while Bonaventure may not speak, he's been given a divine gift that permits him to hear flowers grow, the miniature tempests that rage inside raindrops, his mother's heartbeat across the room, and the gentle voice of his father, who was shot dead by a mysterious stranger known only as the Wanderer. As the years pass and Bonaventure grows into boyhood, he will rely on his father's patient guidance and the help of Trinidad Prefontaine, a creole housekeeper with special gifts of her own, to help heal his family; his grieving mother plagued by guilt, his paternal grandmother burdened with a long-hidden secret which haunts her since her youth, and help his loving father find peace and be able to let go.

Enchanting is the word which best describes this beautiful book for it reads like an enchanted fairy tale of love, family and forgiveness. The Louisiana bayou and New Orleans of yore with all their otherworldly charms and beliefs, including magic, voodoo, and hoodoo, perfectly lend itself as the home for this fanciful tale of healing. While Bonaventure in all his innocence, sweetness and compassion serves as the perfect conduit for the hope and peace his family so desperately needs to begin letting go of their guilt and sorrow, and begin living again. Ms. Leganski does such an incredible job in creating this exquisitely gentle circle of love around Bonaventure; thanks to his mother and grandmother protected from the harsh pain of judgement inflicted by the outside world, though once he starts school other children's taunts and recriminations (as they are wont to do) mar that peace once in a while, for his marvelous gift causes him to standout even when he tries to keep it under wraps.

Even into the Garden of Eden slithered the snake, and so into this sweet tale of family and love, the author has introduced some darkness in the form of the Wanderer. The mystery lies in his identity and throughout the book, we are given clues as to the why for his actions. A disfigured man haunted by personal demons, despite his crime and its repercussions, the reader can't help but feel a measure of sympathy and sorrow for this poor lost soul. The mystery is really the weakest part of the story for I figured it out relatively early, though you don't get definitive confirmation 'til near the end of the book.

The book offers a satisfying resolution to each character's tale, and in so doing leaves the reader with the peace of mind in knowing that these newfound friends we've grown to care about are finally at peace. An uncommon tale that helps us to realize the power of forgiveness, not just towards others, but also for ourselves. The fact that we need to let go of the heavy burdens of past mistakes, past hurts, past pain for "holding on is believing that there's only a past; letting go is knowing that there's a future."

The Voice: It's the Final Countdown

I can’t say or type those words without adding the TA DA DA DA, DA DA DA DA!!! For those of you that don’t know what the heck I’m talking about, click here.

Anyway, it’s actually the semi-final countdown of Season 5 of The Voice; as we slowly creep towards the December 17th finale when we select The Voice! I’m telling you right about now, I’m really ready for the season to end. I always start off the season gung-ho, I tune in for every episode, I exchange texts with my friend during the show and critique performers ala Simon Cowell; but right about now, I start tuning in late, I flip back and forth between channels when there’s someone I don’t like. The problem is that it gets old and now that I know them as performers, I just want to know who will win. But you know the saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, so the break will be nice and then I'll be raring to go for Season 6; though with the season end of The Voice and the mid-season break of The Blacklist, it'll be weird having Mondays to myself again. Books here I come!

As I mentioned in my last Boob Tube Update post, while my favorite from the auditions (Holly Henry) never made it to the live shows, I found a new favorite in Cole Vosbury and I’ve been actively supporting him (dialing for dollars and voting online) since voting started. By the way, the other four semi-final contestants, as pictured above, are Will Champlin, James Wolpert, Tessanne Chin (all Team Adam), and Jacquie Lee (Team Xtina).

I absolutely love Cole’s raspy, soulful voice and his spot on song choices so far, and I really, really hope he wins; with the only other person I’d be OK with winning being Will. This past Monday each performer got a chance to sing two songs to wow America and while the judges seemed to have preferred Cole’s first song, Hall & Oates’ “Rich Girl”, my personal preference was for song number two, James Morrison’s “Better Man.” I’m really hoping Blake and Cole can make a truly inspired song choice that can offer him the always craved for “moment” (as they say) going into the finals.

As for the other teams, I feel bad for Ceelo since he’s out of the running with the entirety of his team knocked out of the competition, but that is part of the game. To be honest I was shocked when Caroline got the boot, since given the word of mouth about her audition going into the live shows, I pegged her as an early favorite. I’m not a fan of Team Adam, except for Will, and definitely don’t like the perpetually screechy Jacquie Lee from Team Xtina.

Tune in next Monday and vote, vote, vote (for Cole...fingers-crossed). Go Team Blake!

The Blacklist: An Obsession

To all fellow Blacklist fans: Holy mackerel was that ("Anslo Garrick") great or what? It doesn’t bear thinking that now we have to wait until January 13th for the next episode of this brilliant new drama. Oh, the inhumanity! I will try to put this time to good use though and continue my Red-obsessed sleuthing.

As I mentioned in my previous Blacklist-related post (Seeing Red), I am determined to crack the Reddington code. I’ve been going back through previous episodes either OnDemand for the more recent episodes or on Amazon, where they are available for the rock bottom price of $1.99 each.

Where to start? First of all, despite this plotline’s obviousness and last night’s hesitant denial by Red, I still think he’s Liz’s dad, though I’m thinking maybe not biological. After all during last night’s episode Cooper said that lab tests confirmed the blood at the church where Garrick was found dead was Reddington’s; with access to Red’s blood and by extension DNA, why doesn’t Liz just send her own blood in for analysis to determine if there’s a DNA match?; she works for the darn FBI so it’s not like she has to wait for Maury Povich’s next “who’s my daddy” episode. I hadn’t thought of that before, but Red could still technically be telling the truth in saying he’s not her dad; maybe he’s not her biological dad, but he could’ve been her stepdad or been bamboozled by Liz’s mom into believing she was his until he learned otherwise; grasping at straws here I know.

We know that Red was part of his daughter’s life prior to his disappearance. Going back to the end of the “Frederick Barnes” episode, when Red visits his old home and remembers the little girl (I assume his daughter) running in the backyard, the last age and height mark on the wall hidden behind the beadboard paneling he rips off was 3, and Sam supposedly adopted Liz around the age of 4, the similarity in ages can’t be mere coincidence.

Another important key to the Red mystery will be determining the identity of the woman in the picture he took from the Stewmaker’s album; I mentioned her in my last post. Here’s a close-up of the pic.

You can see there is a date on the bottom of the Polaroid which says 12-90. According to Ressler’s spiel on Red during the Pilot episode, Red disappeared in 1990 when expected home by his wife and daughter for Christmas; another coincidence or maybe the reason behind his disappearance?

A potential clue or insight into Red, though not related to Liz’s parentage, also found in “The Stewmaker” episode was when Red arrives in the nick of time to rescue Liz, and shares with the Stewmaker the parable of the farmer (found in IMDB episode quotes).

“A farmer comes home one day to find that everything that gives meaning to his life is gone. Crops are burned, animals slaughtered, bodies and broken pieces of his life strewn about. Everything that he loved taken from him - his children. One can only imagine the pit of despair, the hours of Job-like lamentations, the burden of existence. He makes a promise to himself in those dark hours. A life's work erupts from his knotted mind. Years go by. His suffering becomes complicated. One day he stops - the farmer who is no longer a farmer - sees the wreckage he's left in his wake. It is now he who burns, he who slaughters, and he knows in his heart he must pay.”

Is this an allegory for Red’s own life? Liz was literally “burned” in the fire, hence the scar on her palm (more on that below); and later in the “Frederick Barnes” episode he says to Liz, “A man who is willing to burn down the world for the one person he cares about, that’s a man I understand.” Yet another revealing quote about Red's true character comes in this last episode, when he says "You can't judge a book by its cover, but you can by its first few chapters, and most certainly by its last", a statement that to me readily defines Red: a good man (which he was before he became the concierge of crime), who lost his way, and is now looking for redemption (hence the Blacklist).

As for Liz’s scar, I personally hadn't noticed this at all, but I found the picture below when searching Google images for The Blacklist. Kudos to whatever brilliant person discovered this! As you can see, Liz’s scar closely resembles, if not exactly matches, the design on the cover of the box Liz found with Tom’s fake passports, gun, cash, etc.; burn or brand? Not sure. The scar obviously bears considerable significance in the story for right upfront in the Pilot, Red makes a point of questioning Liz about it. Red says, tell me about the scar on your palm, and Liz responds, "It was a fire. I was 14" to which Red curiously asks "Someone tried to hurt you?" It's kind of a strange question to ask; I mean if someone says they got hurt in a fire, you wouldn't normally jump to the conclusion that it was a result of an intentional attempt to hurt them; usually you'd assume it was an accident.

Moving on to the crème de la crème “Anslo Garrick” episodes, I wonder what’s up with Red’s curiosity with Ressler and his ex-fiancée, Audrey Bidwell? Up ‘til now it seemed like Red’s sole focus was always Liz, and out of all things why be concerned about Ressler’s love life? More so, why was he so hell bent on saving him? I found it a little curious that they both have the same blood type. What’s up with that? Red even calls attention to the fact saying, what are the odds, after all only 2% of us have that particular type (B-). Hmmm? Food for thought, red herring, or paranoia setting in? I did love the back and forth between Red and Ressler; when Ressler questions doing a field transfusion, and Red is like "Oh, come now Donald. Think how much smarter you'll be afterwards." Love him.

Going back to Audrey, for a split second I thought she might be Lucy Brooks from the ViCAP search, but here they are next to one another, and there is definitely no resemblance there.

Lastly, Alan Alda’s character which I referred to in my last post as Mr. Crowley since that is the name TVGuide had reported, but whom NBC.com is now referring to as Mr. Fitch; anyway, I get a kinda clandestine government agency or CIA vibe from him. I guess it’s yet another question to throw into the mix; who is he, is he responsible for the apple-eating man and what does Red have on him and his organization? Ooh, and don’t you get the feeling that there’s something sketchy about Jane Alexander's character, Diane Fowler, Chief of the D.O.J. Criminal Division? She seemed extremely perturbed about the fact that she was under surveillance. Is she afraid of what someone might have seen her doing?

So many questions, so little time; actually, what am I talking about, we have plenty of time, six weeks to be exact until the next episode. In the interim, I’ll continue watching and rewatching episodes and Googling my way around the net to search for spoilers or bits of news and come back and share with you guys. I’ll leave you all with one bit of good and one bit of bad news about my beloved new show; first for the good, NBC execs aren’t so dumb after all, announcing today that the network ordered a full 22-episode second season of The Blacklist. Hip, hip, hooray! As for the bad news, we’ll only have a few episodes in January before we have to suffer through yet another hiatus when the network has to break for coverage of the Winter Olympics. Boo! Alas, we shall overcome.

Philomena

I know what you're thinking; another movie? Yes, for there is no such thing as too many movies. On Sunday I got together with a friend for lunch and threw in a movie for good measure. It was wonderful to see each other and catch up and doubly sweet to take in this lovely, heart-warming film together. Inspired by true events and starring Dame Judi Dench and Steve Coogan, Philomena tells the true story of Philomena Lee, an Irish woman searching for the child she was forced to give up for adoption 50 years earlier.

Philomena was 18 years old when she had a child out of wedlock and in order to hide her family’s shame her father sent her to a convent to birth the child in the obscurity necessary to hide her sin. Required to basically serve as indentured servants for the nuns for four years to cover the cost of their care, Philomena toiled in the laundry every day and was allotted only one treasured hour a day in which she could visit her little boy, Anthony, in the convent’s nursery. When Anthony is 3 years old, he is torn from his mother’s arms and adopted (sold) to an American family, leaving Philomena with only a small black and white picture as a treasured memento of the little boy she loved and lost. Fifty years have passed and now an old woman, a retired nurse and mother, Philomena is still haunted by the sin she kept a secret, so on the eve of Anthony’s birthday, after lighting a candle for him in church, she confesses the truth to her adult daughter Jane.

Armed with this new information, Jane asks Martin Sixmith, an ex-journalist recently sacked from a cushy government job, to help her mother find the truth. At first turning Jane down, saying that such human interest pieces only appeal to weak and ignorant people, Martin quickly changes his mind when he sees the potential in resuscitating his career through a great story. As the two face road blocks placed by the none too helpful nuns, Martin turns to his journalistic contacts in the States, and so this very odd-couple is off to Washington, DC in search of both the truth and Philomena’s lost boy.

Oh what a wonderful, wonderful movie this was; an evocative mix of humor, drama, and a little of bit of suspense which once again, only a day after The Book Thief, left me shedding quite a few tears. The humor is found in Dench’s wonderful portrayal of this naïve and at times dotty old woman, who loves romance novels, and always sees the glass as half full. The drama is found in the injustices which took place to a young girl who placed her trust in people who should’ve cared a little more, and while the suspense isn’t the nail biting kind keeping you on the edge of your seat, it simmers below the surface as you anxiously await for both the truth of Anthony’s whereabouts to be revealed and, God willing, a happy reunion.

Philomena is an example to us all; when she could rage against the injustice of losing her son, she instead focuses on the fact that he was given a life she couldn’t have offered him, and when the nuns hide information, she says they’re doing their best. At every turn when given the opportunity to choose anger or bitterness, she instead embraces forgiveness. At its heart that is what this film is all about, forgiveness. The fact that in holding onto our hatred or bitterness towards those that wrong us, we truly only hurt ourselves. At one point in the film when certain facts are revealed and Martin is furious on Philomena’s behalf, she tells him she doesn’t want to be like him, always angry and hating, for it must be exhausting. Her words brought to mind a quote (from Buddha) which I’d seen on Pinterest: “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”

Dame Judi Dench was a revelation in this film. In most of the films I’d seen her in before she’d always conveyed this regal, stoic and stern persona, but in this film she is so open, warm, and vulnerable. She’s pitch perfect in every scene; believably conveying a range of emotions, both her sadness as she longingly looks at her child’s photo, her hurt when she thinks he’d never given her a second thought, and her strength when she forgives the transgressions against her, for as Gandhi said “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” I’d never seen Steve Coogan in any film but I thought he did a wonderful job as the snobbish and sarcastic Martin, offering a cynical counterbalance to Philomena’s blind faith, as well as adding just the right amount of humor to keep otherwise heavy moments a little more light. Coogan also affectingly depicts his character's growth as a caring human being, as Phil (as Martin calls Philomena) becomes someone dear and so much more than just a story.

Truth is stranger than fiction they say, and that couldn’t be truer than in this film. Every twist and turn in this story touches your heart, even more so with the knowledge that it isn’t out of someone’s imagination but the all too true heartache lived by someone very real. In the movie, his editor tells Martin the story he’s writing has to be really, really happy or really, really sad to be good, and the film Philomena is a little of both; a poignant film which offers an incredible life lesson for us all.