Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, Tumbleweed Dreams

The summer of 1988 was brutal. Much of the country was struggling with a lengthy and devastating drought. Crops were dying, the elderly and children were told to avoid prolonged exposure to the heat and four travelers from Florida were racing down the interstate, heading full speed toward the desert.

The Mississippi River at normal height.

The effect of this unique lack of rain was most evident as we passed over the Mississippi River. This once grand waterway was nothing but a trickle. Boats leaned sideways on large sandbars that were previously river bottoms. The normal shipping lanes had literally evaporated and national commerce was feeling the heat.

The Mississippi River during

the Summer of '88.

I had dreamed of seeing the Mississippi in all of its grandeur ever since elementary school, but as we passed over this river turned creek, I was disappointed and saddened… like seeing your favorite actor or actress twenty years passed their prime.

As we crossed Louisiana into Texas I had an insanely naïve idea that, somehow, all of Texas was a desert. I guess it was from growing up watching shows like The Rifleman and Bonanza. All of my references of Texas was formed and reinforced through those shows. So, for some reason, I thought the minute you crossed into Texas, you would find yourself surrounded by hot sands, blowing tumbleweed and, if you’re lucky, you’d cross paths with other cow-poke on their way to Tombstone.

To my surprise, the land between Louisiana and Dallas was, despite the drought, beautiful and green. The hills rolled peacefully and I found myself happily content for the first time in two states.

The sun set just prior to our arrival in Dallas, where Beth had secured us another free bed to stay for the night. However, somewhere between packing Sunday’s luggage and daydreaming about the wild west, our donor had a change of heart or plans, so we checked ourselves into the Red Roof Inn.

As we unpacked, Tim and I noticed that the Boston Red Sox were playing the Texas Rangers on television. Both being Massachusetts natives and having watched a professional baseball game in person only once before, we were excited about hopping over to field to see the game. Our hopes were dashed upon seeing on the television the towering left field fence known as The Green Monster of Fenway Park… in Boston.

The Green Monster at Fenway.

Oh well. We’d have another chance in Los Angeles.

We finished up our night at the Hard Rock Café in beautiful downtown Dallas. The restaurant looked like a cathedral with rock idols as their gods. A large stained glass window of Elvis Presley, titled in Gothic writing, “The King” was oddly uncomfortable to me. We spied a museum’s worth of collectibles and numerous signed guitars from the likes of Eddie Van Halen as we made our way to our table.

A little later, as we waited for our food, we spotted the guitarist from a then up and coming band called White Lion, who was to open for AC/DC in Dallas the next evening. It was a very brief, very small celebrity sighting, but made the evening more fun.

The Hard Rock would end up becoming our home away from home during our trip. For now, the atmosphere, food and company made for a satisfying conclusion to our second day on our trip to Cally.

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Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Mexico Legalizes Drug Possession for Personal Use

Looks like our friends south of the border are planning to legalize drug possession for personal use such as cocaine, pot, heroin and ecstasy.

You can read the story HERE.

Good, maybe then they'll be too stoned to cross into the US illegally.

Passing Wind

My son is nine years old and finds things most nine year olds find funny, burp and fart jokes.

In honor of that age where the sound of passing wind is funnier than any other punchline, I present a whole webpage of fart noises:

http://www.soundboards.com

With such time honored favorites as "Skid Marks," "Colon Powell," and "Heiny Hiccup," you get an idea of just what you'll be hearing. So, if you find wind passing funny, stop by the soundboards website and listen to your hearts content.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 11, Wet, Rinse, Repeat

A monologue, in acting speak, is a solo performance piece most commonly used by actors for auditions. Monologues are usually pulled directly out of plays, however they can also be original works or compiled from other sources.

The most successful monologue I ever used was one I pieced together from a fictional article Howie Mandel wrote for Inside Sports magazine about a child's annual trek to a shuffleboard camp. I titled it When The Lemonade Tastes Funny and used that monologue to get into the fine arts college, to place in the southeast regional Irene Ryan theater competition, as one of my exit monologues from the college prior to graduation and to get numerous professional gigs. When you've struck monologue gold, you mine that baby as many times as possible!

During our extended drive to Dallas, Sunday began rehearsing a monologue for an important audition scheduled upon her return from our road trip. It's really hard to practice a monologue silently. After all, a monologue is spoken and you're not only training your mind to remember the lines and create a logical thought process in your head, but you’re also training your mouth to speak all of those words correctly. During this process it’s not uncommon for an actor to uncover, within a monologue, a localized brain fart… that place where the logic of the author is not readily apparent to the actor and in the same place, every time, the logic in your head fails and the next few words evaporate into thin air. For the actor, this is a trial and error process that will continue until you’re able to build a thought process bridge over the jagged rocks of indecision.

For the rest of us in the car, it meant having to hear Sunday stop at the same line of her monologue over and over and over and over again. Sunday worked through the sixty-second monologue repeatedly, "...What makes you so certain! What gives you the right? I've lived my whole life under your roof, dampened by the weight of your broken dreams! You look at my life and see your... your-" and she'd pause, flip her head slightly, messing her hair, study the script, then continue on, "...your missed opportunities, your failures." And the monologue would continue until the end, then she’d start again, always pausing at "You look at my life and see your..." pause, flip, hair, script, "missed opportunities, your failures."

As we neared the Mississippi River, Sunday’s work on her monologue had reached the level of the absurd for the rest of us. "You look at my life and see your..." and without a beat, Tim and Beth, who had never studied acting, chimed in with lifeless tones "missed opportunities, your failures,” because by this time we all knew the monologue better than she did. Unfortunately, no amount of sheer force of will on our part could build that mental bridge for her. So the rehearsing and pausing and hair flipping proceeded with unceasing consistency until our skulls were ready to implode.

I felt her pain, though. I had been there, unable to make that connection between one word and another. I just never realized how excruciating that process could be for everyone else around me. Being forced to use the interior of a car as her rehearsal space was difficult on us all, for when you’re stuck in a car for hours with the same people everyday, it tends to amplify any character flaws and mute resistance, patience and sanity.

To our delight, the monological monotony was effectively broken by a sight few people had ever seen.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 10, Divine Misdirection

In the time before cell phones, wireless broadband, instant messaging, text messaging and email, communication between two cars was naturally problematic. When traveling together their needed to be an almost symbiotic relationship between drivers in order for the experience to be completely effective. I remember, when taking trips with fellow church youth group members, we would travel in multiple cars and seamlessly move between lanes and traffic without any issues, as if the three cars were indeed one.

Our path toward the interstate in Mississippi was the opposite of seamless and symbiotic and having to rely on someone to guide us through unknown streets for almost an hour was wearing on all of our nerves. We were anxiously looking for a moment when we could speed up next to Aunt Patsy and ask her to pull over, so we could regain our bearings and understand how much longer this path would take, when Aunt Patsy abruptly pulled into an empty church parking lot.

We followed her and watched as she exited her car and, with a little hop to her step, approached ours. Tim rolled down the window and peered his head out.

"Are we lost?" Tim asked.

"No!" Aunt Patsy responded as if he were being excessively silly. "This is my church!"

Confused, Tim could only mutter "Uh-huh."

She pulled open his door, "I wanted to show you my church before you left!"

Did I hear that right? We've been on an unguided tour through the deeper recesses of Mississippian suburbia for an hour so we could see her church?

As my brain tried to wrap itself around that logic, the only thing I could possibly conclude was that this church must be something special, grand, opulent or unexpected in some way. As Sunday and I pried ourselves out of the back seats I found myself staring at a standard looking Protestant church, with a small parking lot, a small steeple and nothing... well, interesting. The magic or mystery or driving force behind our journey must have been inside this plain looking building. As irritated as I was, a part of me was curious to see just what made this journey worth it.

Tim, Beth, Sunday and I followed Aunt Patsy up to the church doors and with a quick motion Aunt Patsy grasped the handles and pulled. Nothing happened. She pulled again. Nothing happened.

She turned, still smiling and quickly dismissed the event, stating "Oh, well, it's locked."

As Aunt Patsy moved passed us and toward her car, we were struck motionless, desperately trying to fathom with confused expressions as to what had just unfolded before us. One by one we slowly turned and moved back toward the Acura, as if stuck in some demented Rod Serling Twilight Zone episode. Aunt Patsy, now sitting in her car, rolled down her window and motioned for Beth to approach her. As the rest of us re-entered the tight confines of the blue Acura, we watched as Beth received verbal instructions on directions to the interstate, replete with a lot of pointing and arm motions by our beloved guide.

Beth returned to the car and entered. We were all frustrated. We were all mad. And this made us all preemptively tired. Knowing that venting any of our displeasure would only exacerbate the issue, the four travelers remained steadfastly quiet. Tim put the car in first gear and started toward the parking lot exit. Silently, Beth pointed Tim in the right direction and we watched as Aunt Patsy gleefully waved her good-byes. As the car sped down the street, Sunday and I watched as our first host, the unforgettable Aunt Patsy, disappeared into the distance.

Now a solid four hours behind schedule, we eventually hopped on the interstate and started the long drive to Dallas, Texas.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 9, Getting Nowhere Fast

As we pulled out of Aunt Patsy’s driveway we were all back into our usual seating positions in the car. Sunday and I sat in the back, pillows at the ready, our feet propped up on small carry-on cases of toiletries. Beth sat in the front passenger seat, her feet squeezed tightly between more luggage on the floor. And Tim sat fat, dumb and happy behind the wheel.

As we followed Aunt Patsy through her quaint neighborhood I could already begin to sense some tension between Sunday and Beth. They were polar opposites. Sunday was exotic, Beth was wholesome. Sunday smoked, Beth didn’t. Sunday was a vegetarian, Beth wasn’t. Sunday was flirtatious, Beth was conservative.

I’m also sure Beth’s fiancé-protection radar was in full swing as well. After all, she had only known Sunday for approximately 24 hours. Sunday was invited on the trip by me and I was someone with whom Beth had only known threw Tim, so her cautiousness was understandable and predictable. Funny, though, that I didn’t see it coming. Actors pride themselves on being excellent observers of human nature, yet I never anticipated the frictioned environment between these two females on the trip.

It just goes to show how much more I had to learn and how much farther I had to mature.

As our daily drives continued, our morning seating assignments would rotate throughout the day. Tim and I handled most of the driving duties. When I drove, Sunday would move to the front passenger seat next to me while Tim and Beth cuddled and napped in the back. On rare occasions did Beth drive and, for the immediate future, Sunday was not allowed to steer our course... at least, not yet.

As I watched another batch of cookie-cutter style homes pass by, I started to grow restless. You know that internal clock that’s forever clicking in your brain? The clock that tells you that you’ll never make it to work on time with the amount of traffic on the road, or that your home team doesn’t have enough time to stage a dramatic comeback… or that you should have reached your destination by now?

Well, for all four of us, that clock began sounding an alarm.

We had spent almost an hour weaving in and out of neighborhoods and side roads and intersections and more subdivisions. Granted, I wasn’t paying close attention when we pulled off the interstate the night before, but surely it didn’t take this long to get to Aunt Patsy’s house. That clock in my brain was adamant in its objection!

I leaned forward and asked Tim, “How much longer to the highway?” Tim offered a bewildered shrug and continued tail-gating Aunt Patsy through one neighborhood, then another. I could tell Beth felt somewhat responsible. After all, she was the one who injected Aunt Patsy into the equation. Beth didn't know that she could be so eccentric, but she still felt responsible and we all began directing our frustration toward Beth. It wasn't fair, really, but we had to release our pent up irritation somewhere and in a car with 300 cubic feet of space, Beth was the unfortunate target.

Days later I would come to understand how uncomfortable it is being on the sharp end of pointing fingers and would come to fully empathize with her current position.

As my eyes began to glaze over while watching Aunt Patsy’s brake lights flash intermittently as we slowed and turned and sped up and slowed and turned, I couldn’t help but think “She can’t be lost, can she? Are we following a blind guide? Our short cut didn’t just turn into a bad Loony Tune episode did it? Should we have taken that left at Albuquerque?”

I sat back into my seat, sighing my frustration just loud enough so everyone was aware of my discontent. Our guide couldn’t possibly be this bad? Surely she understood our current schedule issues and comprehended our sense of urgency, didn’t she?

The question hanging ominously above us all was simply "where the hell are we going?"

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 9, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 8, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 7, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 6, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Energy And Politics 101

You know, you hear a lot now about the oil companies making a lot of money and the government is yelling about the need to tax the oil company for being too successful (a windfall tax) .

That's Socialism 101... punish the capitalists when they make a lot of money. Standard stuff from the left... the government is not allowed to tell us how to live our lives, except when that lifestyle generates money, then the government is allowed to come in and take it.

That's Hypocrisy 101.

Now for Reality 101. Do you know how much money the oil companies make from every gallon of gas? About $.08. Do you know how much the government makes off of every gallon of gas from taxes? Between $.40 - $.50.

So, if the government is REALLY concerned about gas prices, they could put a hold on the taxes and we will immediately see a fifty-cent drop in gas prices. But no, lets go after the people who provide the gas instead of the people that don't, but take five times as much profit from the consumer.

The government is so full of corrupt people on both sides of the aisle. It makes me sick.

Do you know why we're more dependent on middle eastern oil now than we were ten years ago (up from 40% - 60%)? That's easy... just answer a few simple questions:
- When's the last time you heard of a new drill site for oil on American soil?
- When was the last time you heard of a new refinery being built on American soil?
- When was the last time you heard about a new nuclear powerplant being built on American soil?

The answer... never. The environmental lobby has squashed any attempt to harvest our own natural resources.

I have one question for the envronmental lobby - How the hell are we supposed to become energy independent when we can't even dig into our own soil to get the fuel that's just sitting there doin' nothing?

Politicians are pathetic. They speak and it's all just a constant hum of white noise lies.

Americans should demand more from our elected officials. But we won't.

And that's Apathy 101.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 8, The Cock Crows Nine

The next morning we all awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed. It appeared that a comfortable bed and an abundance of food was all we needed to put the wind back into our sails.

Knowing we had a long drive ahead of us, we all quickly heeded Aunt Patsy’s wake-up call, each of us making our way into the shower and then to the breakfast table. It was there, as we devoured home cooked eggs, bacon, pancakes and omelets-to-order, that we noticed the clock on the kitchen oven. The colon splitting the hours and minutes flashed with each second and if you combined those hours and minutes the clock represented nine forty-seven a.m.

In unison we all realized we were suddenly and inexplicably three hours behind schedule.

When we pressed Aunt Patsy as to why she didn't wake us as we requested the night before, she simply smiled brightly and said, “You all looked so tired! I figured you could use the sleep.” It was a nice sentiment, but as I savored my fifth bacon strip I thought and wondered and studied Aunt Patsy closely. Was she sincere in her concern for us or, behind her disarming smile, was she exacting her own sweet revenge upon us for the overflowing leftovers still cooling in her refrigerator from the night before?

The more I studied her, the less confident I became of her evil intentions. If she was being malicious, she was a master of such a deception. In the end, her genuine affection for us and her complete hospitality permanently dislodged any such idea from my mind. She was simply being... well... Aunt Patsy!

One thing was certain, however… it was only the second day of our trip and we were very, very late. We had to get going in a hurry. After breakfast, Tim, Sunday and I repacked the Acura while Beth asked if there was a fast way back to the interstate highway.

“I have a better idea! I’ll take you there myself!” Aunt Patsy exclaimed. For better or worse, we now had an escort. As long as we were quickly greet by an on-ramp and a multi-lane thoroughfare, we didn't care how we got there.

Knowing the hours that laid before us, at this point, Dallas seemed so very far away. Each passing minute in a car traveling under 60 miles per hour was growing tortuous and putting us further behind schedule.

The sooner we reached the interstate, the better.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 8, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 7, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 6, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 7, Is Jackass A Sign?

As Aunt Patsy finished cleaning the kitchen, Sunday continued marveling at the astrological tile work above the living room fireplace. During our senior year I had come to find out that Sunday was a believer in astrology. She felt that all of these signs and stars and whatever else had some legitimate effect on all of us. The weirdest part was that, after a couple of questions she could guess anyone’s sign correctly. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember a time when she guessed wrong. I guess that means she wasn’t guessing at all.

Astrological symbols were sometimes used in character development in acting class, so I was familiar with the signs and their basic personality traits. They were not used in class as any sort of validation of astrology itself, but because each sign had well defined personality characteristics. When researching during rehearsals and developing your character work it was often helpful to assign your character an astrological sign that best fit that role in the play. It was a quick and easy way to have deep character analysis in ready-made form.

Aunt Patsy eventually made her way into the living room and Sunday eagerly began asking her about the tile work, hopeful she would be able to engage in conversation with a fellow believer. Aunt Patsy, however, was 100% southern Protestant. The tile work was put in place by a previous owner and they had left it up because of the workmanship. Not dismayed, Sunday tried to explain some of the nuances of astrology, but her audience was skeptical and tired.

I felt bad for her a little bit… and a bit guilty. It reminded me of a time when Sunday was asking me some fairly basic questions about Christianity. I was stunned that she didn’t know anything about it. “How was that possible?” I thought. In my own immaturity and ignorance, I incorrectly assumed that everyone’s life experiences were equal to my own. When I shared my disbelief with a fellow classmate, Leslie, who was a close friend of Sunday, she leaned into me and said “Why would she know anything about that! She’s Jewish!”

I felt like a jackass. How arrogant and stupid of me to make such assumptions. I realized that I had a lot to learn in college, about people and other beliefs. The journey of discovery never rattled the foundation of my own beliefs, but did make me evaluate them and try to put into place where other religions fit in my limited understanding of spirituality. It was a humbling experience. It’s a journey that I continue on even today.

As the evening wore on I tried to move the conversation toward sleep and tomorrow’s journey. We all agreed that we had a long way to go the next day... our goal was to make it to Dallas, Texas. We all needed a good night sleep, that was certain. But, even more important, we all needed to get on the road early.

We asked Aunt Patsy to wake us so we could be on the road by 7:00 a.m. She agreed and we all made our way to the soft beds awaiting our aching, tired and well fed bodies.

And so ended our first day on our trip to Cally.

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Goin' Out To Cally - Part 7, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 6, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Finding Lost Memories

As I crossed over the bridge of "People Over 40" I thought the toll for such a trip was a permanent loss of memory. Much to my surprise, I had not lost memories, I just didn't have an effective trigger to recall them.

As you all know, I'm writing about my trip to California in 1988. When I returned from that trip I wrote a lot of the events down. I have since lost that information and have been writing about our journey from my weary memory. Last night I searched through my boxes of keepsakes, looking for my notes on the Cally trip, but instead I found items such as my baseball trophies, my one and only home run baseball and various other items, including my junior high and high school yearbooks.

As I scanned through my yearbook I was amazed at how many people I remembered and how many memories flooded back in for ready perusal. People like Jodi Smith, Laura Gonzalez (my first crush in 3rd grade), Robin Banks (my second crush from 4th - 8th grade), David Greenblat, Tracy Steubs, Larry Forbish, Steve Bishoff, Andrea Bailey, Missy Marriot and more. I looked over all of the signatures, only recognizing a few.

I found a couple of pictures of me in the yearbook from our performance of Look Homeward, Angel (including the one here where I try and catch Mike Garcia). It was that performance that made me realize the effect of star power. I played the lead and after the school saw the show people treated me differently. Girls had crushes on me... well on my character, not really on me. At one point in the play, I have a liason with a young woman and we wake up next to each other in the morning (hint, hint). A few days later, after the play, a cute girl whom would never talk to me came up to me, flustered, and told me just how much she enjoyed the play. Then she said "you can wake up next to me any time," smiled and left.

That, my friends, is the power of stardom.

Anyway, my little trip down memory lane was a fun one. I got to relive some of the fun past moments and realize that my brain still fully functioned... it just needed a good kick to get going again.

And I realized one more thing... I have my brother Charles' junior high year book from 1977. I'll have to drop that off next time I see him.

When over twenty years has passed since your high school graduation, pull out the books and enjoy the trip. You'll be surprised how much comes flooding back... I was.

I'm In The Spotlight!

Lisa Ciurro has a blog called Tampa Film Fan. She's claims to be neither a scholar nor critic, just a rabid film fan. Her website has grown into the focal point for all things artistic in Tampa Bay. She stumbled across my website a few months ago and asked if she could spotlight my efforts.

Well, that spotlight appeared today at her website. I check her blog daily and was initially freaked to see my name there, but her article is very complimentary.

Thanks Lisa!!!!

Check it out!

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 6, Leftovers

After you’re in a car for more than two hours, everything begins to blur. Time, location, meaning… everything ends up in a big, fat vat of “are we there yet?”

Our drive from Florida to Mississippi was a long and unmemorable trip. Trying to conserve as much money as possible, we planned on utilizing as many relatives between Florida and California that we could muster. Unfortunately, all of my extended family lived in the Northeast. As it turns out, Beth was the only one who actually had relatives located anywhere close to our prepared, mapped-out course. We didn’t want anything special, just a place to rest our heads… for free.

Beth’s Aunt Patsy and Uncle Don answered the call and kindly offered us a place to sleep for the first night of our trek.


In an effort to refrain from being presumptuous, we all decided to stop and eat at a local McDonalds just before arriving at their Mississippi home. After all, it would be too much to expect to be fed for free as well… wouldn’t it?

We should have done our research on Southern hospitality before devouring our McDinner.

Stuffed to the gills with various fried and soy-enhanced edibles, we arrived at the nice and humble home of Aunt Patsy and Uncle Don. Aunt Patsy exited her home and greeted us with hugs and smiles. The four weary travelers were just happy to escape the blue cocoon we had called home for the past ten hours. Our muscles were stiff and our bones crunched as we unpacked and moved our belongings into the house.

Aunt Patsy had prepared one guest room for Beth and Sunday to share and another for Tim and me.

And she also prepared some food.

A lot of food.

A mess hall’s worth of ham and turkey and potatoes, both mashed and sweet, and vegetables and desserts. We all just stared in awe at the feast that laid before us, our stomachs churning as it struggled to digest our fast food appetizer. I leaned over to Tim and said “I’m stuffed! What are we going to do?”

“Eat,” he replied.

And he was right. How could we turn it down? Think of all of the love and care and effort that went into that glorious meal? None of us had the nerve or desire to inform Aunt Patsy that her banquet was unwelcome because we had partook of a large helping of unknown chicken parts mashed together, formed, fried and labeled “nuggets.”

So, we sat… and ate… slowly.

Every bite was a challenge. Aunt Patsy looked on as if her entire value as a human being depended upon our facial expressions and food intake. After some time, the eating had to stop. After all, if we had tried to squeeze one more morsel down our gullets it would have surely forced a reversal of the digestive process, thereby destroying any goodwill we had thus far created.

As we put our forks down we were ashamed at the amount of food still available to us. Had we really eaten so little? Or was there just way too much food? Or some combination of both? With almost pleading eyes she asked “are you sure you don’t want anymore?”

We all politely relayed our immense satisfaction and gratitude, but respectfully declined. Wounded, yet undeterred, Aunt Patsy smiled and started to put all of the food away. We offered to help, but she quickly reminded us that we were guests in her house and Uncle Don guided us into the adjoining living room.

Tim, Beth and I sat down, our stomachs pooched out like just before a post-Thanksgiving Day meal nap. We moaned and groaned to ourselves, hoping we wouldn’t burst open.

Sunday, on the other hand, remained standing, looking none-the-less for wear, transfixed on an intricate tile design on the wall above the fireplace mantel. The tiles formed a circle and displayed a variety of animals... a fish, a scorpion, a man with a bow and arrow... all of the astrological symbols.

Her eyes studied it closely and a small smile brightening her face.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 6, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, The Kiss Of Friendship

The previous semester, I realized that my passions lied more in film than in theater. Unfortunately, the university did not have a film program at the time, so I had to manufacture my own filming opportunities. As a sophomore in college I scraped together a little money and, along with my brother Paul, my friend Mike and my girlfriend at the time, Sue, we shot a half-hour comedy short on Super 8 film called The Term Paper.

Mike and Pete on the
set of The Term Paper

As I worked my way toward a Fine Arts degree, I had been enveloped in theater, in words and in drama. Cinema is told in images, Theater is told in words. This focus on theater was made apparent when I wrote a short film called Homesick. It’s an overly-wordy and unsuccessful drama about an actor who returns home to face the family demons of his past. Upon his arrival home, he is surprised to find his high school buddies happily waiting to greet him. One of those people is an old flame, who ended up being played by Sunday.

Sunday (back to us), Pete, Jay, Leslie
and Mike on the set of Homesick.

In order to shoot this mini-film I asked all of my theater buds to act in the project. Sunday agreed to play the role of the ex-girlfriend, but a few days before the shoot she had to have her wisdom teeth removed. She showed up on set with swollen cheeks and heavily medicated. Forever the trooper, she mustered enough focus to fulfill her commitment to me and the project... part of which included an intense kissing scene. You can trust me when I tell you that kissing a woman with newly extracted teeth, swollen gums and on pain medication is about as unromantic as one can get. Add to that the aspect of having to do it on camera, worrying about lighting and blocking (where you move on a set) and acting... well, the kissing was our last priority. Trying to shoot a talk-heavy half-hour short in 36 straight hours did not lend itself to any sort of sexual enlightenment, just getting the shot and moving on to the next scene was our primary goal.

Sunday, in Homesick, poofy cheeks and all.

So, as Sunday and I discussed our friends and such, we did have a weird sort of intimate history, but a completely false and fabricated one. In the end, we spent most of the time talking about boyfriends/girlfriends, past and present. Sunday had mentioned how happy she was with Dave, how she was determined to be completely loyal to him and that she could see being with him for the rest of their lives. This was reassuring to me. I was happy to know that there wouldn't be any odd sexual tension between Sunday and me. Dave had been one of my best friends and betraying that friendship with him, or Sunday, was not even an option.

Our conversation slowly died off and we ended up taking naps, waiting forever to get out of the state of Florida. That’s one of the problems with Florida… there’s only one way to leave this dang place... go straight up.

In what seemed like an eternity, our first goal was finally achieved... there was a small celebration in the car as we crossed the state line and headed as quickly as we could toward Mississippi…

…and Aunt Patsy.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 5, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, Scholastic Intimacy

As the car sped out of Sunday's apartment complex parking lot, loaded down with an excessive amount of luggage, we were all one big happy family. Tim and Beth were looking forward to the time together and I was looking forward to getting to know Sunday a little more.

I had known her as a friend in college for a few years now. She was an odd dichotomy of personality traits. As mentioned before, she had a smoldering sexuality to her, yet she had an incredibly innocent approach to life. She had more interpersonal experiences with others than anyone else I knew, yet was incredibly loyal to her boyfriend, Dave. She was very spiritual, yet without being religious. She, like everyone else, was far more complex and layered than she first appeared.

Since I was coming from a relatively sheltered background, her unique and different view on life was intriguing to me. Peeling back those personality layers would end up being an interesting and, at times, very frustrating experience.

Our bodies not yet stiff from the limited body placement options in the small back seat, Sunday and I quickly made ourselves comfortable, resting our heads against our pillows propped up against the back seat windows. Our initial conversation covered a lot of ground. Our families, our college experience, our past relationships, other people in the theater department… stuff like that.

One of the odd things about acting is the uncommon intimacy that is required to do the job. There were many times during my college years where, during a scene, I had to kiss or hold or touch a fellow actress as part of a scene... often times with people I barely knew. It creates a unique dynamic. I had kissed girls that I only knew in passing. I had allowed numerous actresses into the intimate three foot bubble that surrounds us all, our personal space, in order to fulfill the dramatic necessities of a scene. That's the nature of being an actor, but an odd existence for everyone else.

Leslie and Pete in The Tempest

For a young, virile college male, it was both fun and confusing. For someone who never dated in high school and who was too shy and insecure to ask anyone to his prom, being paired in acting class with a beautiful girl whom, in real life, you would barely have the courage to talk to, and being assigned a scene in which you had to kiss this beautiful girl... well, let's be honest, that was frickin' cool! I mean, you got to kiss girls you didn't think would give you the time of day. And they had to kiss you back! It was in the scene! Their grade depended on it! It was every young man's dream in a lot of ways.

Overall, it was an odd convergence of fantasy and reality and it ended up creating an almost false sense of closeness amongst our class. By the time we were all graduating, it was like a sitcom that lasts too long... eventually, everyone had kissed everyone else. That sort of intimacy is not something to which you can naturally disengage, yet it is a shallow intimacy, so it is not something to which you can wholly grasp onto... it's somewhere in between. It's... weird.

So, as Sunday and I discussed our classmates, the conversation eventually ended up in the "who did you want to kiss but never did" or "who did you kiss and wish you didn't" realm. The strangest part of this conversation was that, as part of a short film I had written and directed, Sunday and I had already made out... on camera.

Sunday and Pete in Homesick...
They're acting... really!

You'll have to trust me, it was unnatural and completely unromantic.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 4, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Space Invaders

Ignorance is a wonderful thing. It allows you to make stupid decisions that often have wonderfully catastrophic consequences. You also find yourself doing things and attempting challenges you never would have dreamed of tackling had you known enough to make a wiser decision.

Such was the case of putting together four unique personalities on an extensive road trip in a small car... I knew Tim, I didn't really know Beth and I didn't really know Sunday. And I certainly didn't know if our four personalities would react as soothing elements or cause random, cataclysmic explosions. Yet, we were now unified like some wicked Survivor episode, stuck in an Acura Integra for approximately twenty-one days over the Summer of '88. Knowing what I know now, I would have cancelled the trip all together. But, then, I wouldn't have this story to tell. So, in this case, ignorance worked in my favor.

An '87 Acura Integra

Tim picked me up in St. Pete. Packing for a long trip knowing you're going to be in a car without a lot of space was a challenge. Fortunately for me, I overcame the obstacle by simply not owning that many clothes. I took my meager belongings and shoved it into the back of Tim's almost new 1987 blue Acura Integra. It sat four comfortably, had a new fangled CD player and the engine purred as you moved the stick shift from one accelerating gear to another. We took the short hour long trip up to Brooksville and picked up Beth, whom had packed accordingly. There was just enough space for Sunday's luggage in the trunk.

We met Sunday that morning at her apartment complex. We were all happily anxious to get on our way and Tim and I gladly offered to help Sunday with her luggage. That's when physics and geometry got in the way. Damn that college education! Eyeing Sunday's luggage and calculating the available space in the trunk, the weight of said luggage, breathable oxygen and that hard to define space in a car that separates harmony from growing resentment... well, unless my abacas was wrong, things just weren't going to add up.

Never the less, we pulled her luggage down to the car and dropped it at the base of the trunk. With the luggage even closer, the impending package problem seemed more evident. The issue was that Sunday actually packed for a twenty-one day trip. True, the trip was intended to be twenty-one days... but we didn't expect her to pack twenty-one pants, bras, panties, socks, shoes along with the appropriate hair care products, toiletries and, as I lifted her large duffle bag into the back of the car, was certain she had packed lead in there as well, just for giggles.

The trunk wouldn't close and we knew some creative reshuffling was required. Not only because the duffle bag wouldn't fit, but because that was only one-third of her luggage. I remember asking her what she packed or why she packed so much or why she existed in human form, but her reply seemed valid, commenting on female necessities and feeling pretty and her inherent urge to make people want to kill her.

Okay, the human form and killing comments are exaggerations, but I do remember vaguely trying to understand how I could survive on five pairs of underwear, some socks, a couple of shirts and pants and one pair of sneakers and she needed three tons of Madonna closet leftovers, a small salon stock of hair care products and various silky skimpy lingerie items for a trip where most of our time will be spent camping.

Overwhelmed with the urge to get on the road with the assumption that this was our hardest part of the journey, Tim and I moved some of the smaller pieces out of the trunk and into the foot space in the interior of the car. We pulled out our slide rules and atomic clocks and figured out how to redesign space and time to fit all of the remaining luggage into the trunk. At first, the trunk wouldn't close. I jumped and put all of my weight on it and it still wouldn't close. Tim joined me in a unified jump and we celebrated the CLICK of the locked trunk with a high five.

Sunday and I squeezed into the back seat, now without anyplace to put our feet, held our pillows in our arms and tried to get comfortable. Beth simmered slightly as her foot space was also now full of various traveling items. The only completely luggage-free zone was the driver's seat, where Tim happily landed. He started the car and we headed toward our first destination.

In the coming hours, Sunday and I would pass our time with long conversations, ignoring an awkwardly intimate history.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 3, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, Audio

Lord's Lotto

As my daughter and I drove to the supermarket to pick up some groceries, we passed a lottery billboard stating that $64 million was one ticket away from all of us.

My daughter wondered aloud what it would be like to win such a large sum of money. I mentioned that it's up to the Lord if we win the lottery. So, after we finished shopping we went up to purchase a new group of lotto tickets. While waiting for my new tickets to be purchased I placed my old tickets under a scanner that lets you know if you won or not.

One of my tickets said "Winner - See Retailer." The cashier looked a little stunned and told us we had four out of six numbers right on a previous lottery game. We won $85.00. Cool. Our grocery bill was $83.00.

As we walked out of to the car, I looked at my daughter with concern and said "I hope the Lord knew we were talking about winning the $64 million lotto, not 85 bucks from a previous one!"

We both laughed, grateful that we won anything at all. The Lord does have a sense of humor and if you don't ask for specifics, he'll fill in the blanks for you. We tithed 10% into the church collection on Easter and found that no one won the $64 million prize.

I knew I should have been more specific!

The lotto is up to $82 million now. I'll remember to be very detailed in my prayers next time. :)

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter, everyone! This is the day all Christians celebrate our freedom from death through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Spend the day with family and friends and enjoy the love between each other and with your risen Lord.

From the Catholic News Agency, a little more information...

Easter is the principal feast of the ecclesiastical year. Leo I (Sermo xlvii in Exodum) calls it the greatest feast (festum festorum), and says that Christmas is celebrated only in preparation for Easter. It is the centre of the greater part of the ecclesiastical year.

To have a correct idea of the Easter celebration and its Masses, we must remember that it was intimately connected with the solemn rite of baptism. The preparatory liturgical acts commenced on the eve and were continued during the night. When the number of persons to be baptized was great, the sacramental ceremonies and the Easter celebration were united. This connection was severed at a time when, the discipline having changed, even the recollection of the old traditions was lost. The greater part of the ceremonies was transferred to the morning hours of Holy Saturday.

Commemorating the slaying of the true Lamb of God and the Resurrection of Christ, the corner-stone upon which faith is built, it is also the oldest feast of the Christian Church, as old as Christianity, the connecting link between the Old and New Testaments.

The connection between the Jewish Passover and the Christian feast of Easter is real and ideal. Real, since Christ died on the first Jewish Easter Day; ideal, like the relation between type and reality, because Christ's death and Resurrection had its figures and types in the Old Law, particularly in the paschal lamb, which was eaten towards evening of the 14th of Nisan. In fact, the Jewish feast was taken over into the Christian Easter celebration; the liturgy (Exsultet) sings of the passing of Israel through the Red Sea, the paschal lamb, the column of fire, etc.

The connection between the Jewish and the Christian Pasch explains the movable character of this feast. Easter has no fixed date, like Christmas, because the 15th of Nisan of the Semitic calendar was shifting from date to date on the Julian calendar. Since Christ, the true Paschal Lamb, had been slain on the very day when the Jews, in celebration of their Passover, immolated the figurative lamb, the Jewish Christians in the Orient followed the Jewish method, and commemorated the death of Christ on the 15th of Nisan and His Resurrection on the 17th of Nisan, no matter on what day of the week they fell. For this observance they claimed the authority of St. John and St. Philip.

Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe (2005)

There's not a lot I can add about this film that hasn't been commented on already. This first Chronicles of Narnia installment is a wonderful film with touching Christian symbolism and an effective, magical journey about tempation, forgiveness and the fight between good and evil.

The story revolves around four children from 1940's London who, due to Nazi bombing runs, are forced to take residence in an aloof Professor's castle estate to escape the daily bombardment at home. The castle is, at first, unwelcoming and hollow. Yet, during a game of hide and seek, one of the children stumbles across a wardrobe. As she squeezes her way toward the back of the wardrobe she suddenly finds herself in a snow covered forest. From this moment on the four children's lives will never be the same.

They say that a 80% of a successful film comes from casting and the cast of Chronicles is wonderful, especially Georgie Henley as the youngest sibling, Lucy Pevensie. The Christian symbolism is quite obvious, with Aslan, the Lion leader, sacrificing himself for the sins of others, only to be resurrected, overcoming death and leading the battle against evil.

The film is fun and scary and magical and exhilerating and touching... and much more. For children and adults, it's a must see.

Good Friday

From the Catholic News Agency... a little reminder:

On Good Friday, the entire Church fixes her gaze on the Cross at Calvary. Each member of the Church tries to understand at what cost Christ has won our redemption. In the solemn ceremonies of Good Friday, in the Adoration of the Cross, in the chanting of the 'Reproaches', in the reading of the Passion, and in receiving the pre-consecrated Host, we unite ourselves to our Savior, and we contemplate our own death to sin in the Death of our Lord.

The Church - stripped of its ornaments, the altar bare, and with the door of the empty tabernacle standing open - is as if in mourning. In the fourth century the Apostolic Constitutions described this day as a 'day of mourning, not a day of festive joy,' and this day was called the 'Pasch (passage) of the Crucifixion.'

The liturgical observance of this day of Christ's suffering, crucifixion and death evidently has been in existence from the earliest days of the Church. No Mass is celebrated on this day, but the service of Good Friday is called the Mass of the Presanctified because Communion (in the species of bread) which had already been consecrated on Holy Thursday is given to the people .

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, The Fourth Wheel

The members of the University of Florida theater department often found themselves socializing in a local dive of a bar called the WinnJammer. It was small and smoky, but they allowed all of the actors to put their headshots on the wall. It was interesting to see actors from years past on the wall, seemingly participating in our conversations in the two large booths that were almost continually inhabited by theater department faculty and students.

Pete at the WinnJammer

It was at this bar that I realized the importance of networking in show business. It was my first lesson in the understanding that who you know will get you in the door and talent will allow you to stay there. When I wasn't getting cast in plays, I decided to up my social quotient and became a frequent off-hours resident at the WinnJammer. I was broke, so I could only afford a Pepsi because of the free refills.

And I'll never forget Diane, one of the cooks at the bar. She was a sweet black woman with a gold front tooth who's maternal instincts were honored upon me, because, knowing my financial status, she would frequently sneak out some chicken fingers for me to eat. Without her generosity I truly do not believe I would have had enough nutrition to make it through my last year in college. She was a doll and I will never forget her.

After I became known at the bar and comfortable with fellow students and staff, I used my humor to ingratiate myself to them and they became more comfortable with me. I found my interactions with my teachers more fruitful in class as a result as their criticism and education of my acting talents were more valid and applicable to me... they knew me as a person and knew when I was relying on "me" instead of acting as someone else.

Doc Shelton and I had a love/hate relationship, in the best sense of the word. Shelton pushed me harder than any other teacher I've ever known. His criticism was brutal and honest and accurate and that hurt more than I would have liked... but he challenged me to be better than I could imagine within myself. I don't know how talented I ever got as an actor... how can one effectively measure oneself in that way, but I know that whatever level of talent I had achieved, it would have been substantially less if it had not been for him.

During one of these nights at the WinnJammer, I was sitting across from two of my friends, David and Sunday. They had been dating for a while and I really enjoyed their company. Dave had a wonderful wit and was always found with the front-half of his shirt untucked. Sunday was what I call early Madonna, minus the voice. And I'm speaking of Madonna the singer, not the Mother of Jesus.

Sunday in a print ad
in a local paper

Sunday had a smoldering femme fatal sexuality about her and wore an intricate mess of clothes, yet the look somehow worked with her. I remember asking her "don't you want to look nice?" She replied "I think I do look nice." I realized at that moment that no one dresses up thinking they look bad and that my tastes are just that, mine.

So, that night at the bar the weight of the impending end to the school year was upon us. We mulled our options and Dave asked what I was planning on doing over the Summer. "Well, I'm helping out with the Summer Stock program first and then I'm taking a road trip to California, check out the U.S.C. and U.C.L.A. film departments," I replied.

Dave and Pete at Graduation

Dave had no interest in going, but Sunday was envious. I half-heartedly replied to her "you want to go?" knowing that the answer would certainly be no... after all, their relationship was relatively new and what boyfriend would be okay with sending his sexually comfortable girlfriend on a road trip with another guy where they would spend almost three weeks together, some of which would require being in close quarters such as sleeping in a tent camping?

Surely the answer had to be no.

Yet, to my surprise, Sunday replied "Sure!" And to my greater surprise Dave didn't object. With a slip of the tongue I suddenly found my fourth wheel for the trip. I really should have objected in some way, but, at the time, I was a slave to my fear of confrontation, so I just said "Okay."

Against all logic, the foursome was set.

I really should have objected in some way.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 2, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, Audio

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1, The Seed Planted

College has numerous rites of passage between childhood and adulthood. Taking "the road trip" is one of those time honored traditions.

As I neared the end of my senior year of college at the University of Florida in 1988, graduating with a degree in Fine Arts, I dreamed of a long term career in Hollywood. One of my teachers, Doc Shelton, mentioned that a school alum was a producer in California and would probably be open to meeting with me. I said, "Why would he do that?" Shelton mentioned "If I called you and asked you to meet with someone, would you?" I said "of course." "So would he," Shelton replied.

And that was how it started. The seed was planted. I could visit someone working in the biz and check out the world renown film schools. I needed to get to California, somehow, someway.

My options were pretty limited. I was essentially broke, didn't have a working car and did I mention I also had no money? After much thought and deliberation, there was only one viable option. I called my best friend, Tim, and had a very quick conversation that went something like this... "Tim, you want to take a road trip to California?" He replied "Sure."

And that was it. The trip was on.

Pete & Tim- 1986

The trip benefited both Tim and me. It gave Tim a chance to visit his brother, Paul and his wife Anne, both of whom lived in Los Angeles and worked for the mouse and it gave me a chance to try to get my foot into show business.

I also felt a certain kinship to my older brothers, Stephen and John. When they were about my age our family moved from Massachusetts to Florida. Instead of traveling with us, John and Steve decided to ride bikes from the North to the South. I'll let them share their own journey, but the stories I listened to in my youth about their trip seemed so funny and adventurous and unique and I had hoped my trip to California would offer similar memorable moments.

Tim was engaged to Beth, so she would join us on the road trip and he suggested I invite someone so I wouldn't feel like a third wheel. I had met Beth a couple of times and she seemed nice enough, so adding her to the journey didn't seem much of a worry. And I wasn't overly concerned about being a third wheel, but I did mull over my options, just in case.

But who would I ask?

********

For my father, who's eyesight has been hindered due to Parkinsons Disease, I have made an audio file for him to listen to the story. So, if you want to hear the story, either click on the LINK and listen from your browser or Right Click the LINK and save to your computer for listening whenever you'd like.

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 1 Audio

Home Opener

Monday evening my son, Gabe, along with my best friend Tim and his brother Kevin, attended the home opener of the Devil Rays against division rivals Baltimore Orioles. Under new ownership and management the franchise is revitalized and we're gladly basking in the honeymoon phase. The talent is still lacking, but the commitment from ownership, for the first time in team history, is solid.

A simple idea of how things are different under this new ownership can be found in the bathrooms. The previous ownership would go out of their way, it seemed, to be anti-customer friendly. The stadium was always dirty and by the end of the games, the bathrooms were awful. Today, there was a janitor continually cleaning the bathrooms throughout the game and, as you left, would go out of his way to say "Have a great time at the game today!" A janitor pushing customer service. Boy, things are different in DRay land.

The new owners also offer free parking, discounted concession stand prices, the repainted the entire stadium, gave away goodies as you entered the stadium, greeted fans, etc. They did everything they could to show that things were different now. And the fact that it was only the fourth sellout in team history supports that assertion. The fans were ready to have some fun.

The team is full of exciting, young players. We have no allusions of competing with the big market teams every year... MLB still hasn't fixed disparate revenue streams for the teams in the league... but the DRay fans think that we have enough talent that a magical run could happen at some time.

We got to the field early. I had owed my son a hot fudge Sunday for hitting a home run Saturday, so we got that first. We then watched the DRays batting practice, during which, Mark Hendrickson, one of the Rays starting pitchers, threw Gabe a MLB ball. As the crowd started to fill out I was most impressed by how many 20-somethings there were in attendance. That is the fan base the new ownership needs to attract and they were there in force.

During the game time caught a spongy ball and a DRay t-shirt thrown into the stands and gave them to Gabe. During the game a dad in front of us bought one too many Carvel Dippin' Dot ice creams and gave the extra one to Gabe. And, though the DRays ended up losing, Gabe was able to watch Toby Hall hit a two run homer. Hall has a special place in Gabe's heart because at the end of last season, we celebrated Gabe's birthday at the field and, due to a variety of circumstances, Gabe got to stand next to Hall on the field during the national anthem.

Overall the evening was a lot of fun. The crowd was excited. My son had a great time and I got to spend a fun night with my best friend of 25 years. It's the simple things that offer the greatest rewards. Sure, it would have been great if the Rays would have won, but the evening was memorable for so many other reasons.

Flightplan (2005)

There is a saying that all of the original stories have been told and that every story we hear now is merely a retelling of one of those original gems.

That is certainly true in Hollywood.

Take Flightplan, starring Jodi Foster. Flightplan is a direct, updated copy of the Hitchcock classic The Lady Vanishes. In Flightplan, Foster plays the distressed airplan designer, Kyle, who wakes up on a long overseas flight to find that her child is missing. In The Lady Vanishes, made in 1938, Margaret Lockwood wakes up on a train to find her recent acquaintence, Miss Froy, suddenly missing.

Both women go through the riggers of trying to convince the other passengers that someone is missing in a place where no one can hide (plane/train). In both cases they are convinced there never was the missing person and in both cases the women, unable to believe the missing person was imaginery, enlists the help of a male to assist them. In both films, a window seat plays a pivotal point in the storyline and in both films the potential plots teeter on the brink of complete unbelievability.

In The Lady Vanishes, Hitchcock's style hides the potential plot missteps. In Flightplan, the pure energy of Foster's performance along with Sean Bean's compassionate portrayal as the pilot and Peter Sarsgaard as Air Marshal Carson keep us distracted from the pitfalls of the flimsy storyline.

In the end, both films are enjoyable and both films are worth watching. If you have enough time in your day, do what my daughter and I did and watch them back to back. Then you'll really see that what was once original, is original no more.

Parental Gloating

It's a parent's duty to gloat. Ask any of them. In that spirit, give me a few moments...

Gabe's had a tough little league season so far. The team of eight and nine year olds had opened with a win, but have lost every game since... some were one-run games, others were not so close. Gabe is one of the better players on a below average team and he's been very frustrated. His competitive nature gets the best of him and losing multiple games is hard on him.

Saturday, he had a very good game and helped the team win their second game. He pitched a shutout inning, stole home and hit a home run.

I decided to bring my video camera to this game and put together a small little highlight reel to brighten his spirits.


Sure, this entire entry is a parent being overly proud of his child, but if I don't do it, who will? :)

You'll need a free Quicktime Player (located here) to view it. Most computers have it, but if you don't, you can download it here.

Here's the highlights:

The clip shows Gabe pitching and making a diving play

Striking out a player

Making another diving play to end the inning.

He then hits his homerun and
beats the throw to the plate.

Click on the link below and view it for yourself. Click here to watch it in your browser. Or you can Right Click on the Link and Save As to save it on your computer: - http://www.localtalentfilms.com/ltp/GabeHighlights040806-6.mov

If you save it onto your computer and the picture is too small on Quicktime, click on Movies, then click on Double Size.

Enjoy. We did.

Corpse Bride (2005)

What happens if you accidentally marry a woman who was killed just before she was to be married? You end up in the wacky and unique world of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. Bride is another stop animation work from Burton, with his trademark style and dark humor, the story follows the misadventures of Victor Van Dort, voiced by Johnny Depp as he struggles between his empathy and affection for the corpse bride, acted by Helena Bonham Carter, and his true love, Victoria Everglot, who's voice is provided by Emily Watson.

Amidst a cinematic world of computer animated films such as Shrek 1 and 2 and other computer animated characters in King Kong and Jurrasic Park, it's refreshing to see the art form brought by stop animation has not lost it's magic. Despite this, the overall effect of the film is hit and miss. As a love story or as a film with musical numbers, neither the love story or songs are truly memorable. And the surprise twist of the film in the second act was none too subtle either.

If you are a true Burton fan, you will love the dark imagery, the off-kilter humor and occasionally gross moments. If not, I'd suggest watching some of Burton's more touching fare, such as Big Fish or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where his unique take on the world is at its cinematic peak.