Indiana Jones

Tonight I am going to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I've been following the evolution of this film for several years now, from long-running rumor, to protracted script re-writes, and finally to actual shooting. And now today is the day. I can hardly wait.

I remember when Raiders of the Lost Ark first came out. I was almost 9 years old. My parents went to see it first and afterwards, I vividly remember my mom recounting the propeller scene and how gruesome it was. In my mind, I pictured it much worse than it actually was, but that's imagination for you. They took me to see it and I was hooked. Before long I was looking up the Ark of the Covenant, as well as archeology, in our World Book Encyclopedia. I also put some "treasures" in a cigar box, carefully buried it in the woods in our back yard, and then, starting on the far side of the woods, trekked through the jungle, occasionally checking my tattered map, until I arrived at the treasure. Ah, the good old days. When kids actually pretended, and acted out scenes like their heroes. Now, they just play the video game. But I digress...

In the pre-video days of Raiders, when movies were re-released a few times, it was very common to go see a movie several times in the theater. Especially if you were a kid. But that didn't mean there was always an available parent or adult willing to take you. About 10 months after the original release of Raiders, it was playing in re-release at a small theater relatively close to our house. I just knew that, at 9 1/2, I was mature enough to handle going to see it by myself, since I figured no one would want to take me again. So I wrote my mom a letter asking for permission and put it in our mailbox.


Amazingly, I still have the letter. I recently found it in a file folder of short stories and drawings that I made around the same time. As persuasive writing, it's quite good, if I say so myself.


And the good news is my parents let me go see Raiders of the Lost Ark, for the third time...by myself. I don't remember who took me or picked me up. But I'll always remember how cool it was to spend 2 hours in a dark theater with my hero.

And tonight, 27 years later, I get to do it again.

Words of Wisdom

I've been jotting down little bits and pieces of self-advice, words to live by. I thought I'd post a few. If you have any of your own, feel free to leave them in the comments section.

There is no such thing as perfection. But that doesn’t mean that we should stop trying. It’s a slippery slope, though. Striving for perfection, while knowing that it can never really be reached, is healthy. Yearning for perfection and feeling bad because you don’t reach it is destructive.

If you don’t like all the sex and violence on TV, you have the power to change it. It’s called the on/off button. There is one truth in television: they will produce what people will watch. If people only tuned in to shows without sex and violence, believe me…that’s all that would be on the air.

Customer service employees never deserve to be yelled at. Remember that we customers don’t always have the whole story. Also remember that all customer service employees have a manager. If the employee has erred, talk to the manager. Even then, though, be civil. If you’re prone to blowing your top in public, acknowledge that you’ve got the problem, not them.

People are not meant to live in the same place all their lives. You know that expression “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence?” Ever experienced that feeling that things just seem better, or more appealing, somewhere else? I think the urge to go somewhere else is instinctive. There’s always an exception to the rule, and most people suppress the instinct, but I think somewhere deep down it’s in all of us. Ever been at a museum and they’re theorizing about why a certain group of ancient people left their homes or disappeared? They always have the same theories. The river dried up. The food source disappeared. The winter was too cold. But maybe they just wanted a change of scenery!

Don’t get angry at people who walk really slowly through a crosswalk, forcing drivers to wait. Have you ever been about to turn at an intersection, and waited for a person who was crossing the street, only for the person to walk intentionally slow, even holding up traffic? Sometimes they don’t even have a “walk” sign when they’re crossing. Sometimes they slow down even more when they realize a car is waiting. I used to get really bothered by this. We all know the point they’re trying to make: I hurry for no one because I am a slave to no one. But I realize now that anyone whose psyche is so injured that they feel compelled to make that kind of point in the path of a vehicle that weighs several thousand pounds should be pitied, not detested.

There are some foods that should be enjoyed, even if they are not healthy. Life is too short to eat fat free sour cream. God made chocolate delicious for a reason. We should, however, take full responsibility for our health and practice moderation. Movie theater popcorn every day is foolish. But occasional movie theater popcorn feeds the soul.

Angry people are usually just scared of something. No one likes a mean person, but if you understand that most angry or mean people are that way because they are afraid, it might be easier to avoid getting angry back at them. Look at the animal world for confirmation of this. I was once accosted by an angry squirrel on the balcony of our apartment. I couldn’t figure out what had gotten into this crazy squirrel. Without fully understanding, I hated that squirrel for jumping out of my potted fern and scaring me, and then hanging around, chattering nosily at me. But when I found the baby squirrels inside the plant pot, I realized that the squirrel wasn’t crazy or angry or rabid. She was just scared that I was going to kill her babies. We don’t always have the whole picture. In fact, we rarely do. Remember that before reacting.

It is not difficult to make a good cup of coffee. “Barrista” is just a fancy word to make you feel better about paying too much for a cup of coffee that you could have made equally well at home.

Hanging clothes

I got home from work yesterday. Cristina took my briefcase and kissed me. I sat down in the immaculate living room to look at the newspaper. Sofia was reading a book on the couch and Alex and Bella were quietly playing a game on the floor. "Smells good!" I said. "What's for dinner?" Cristina had whipped up a nutritious but tasty dish with whole wheat pasta, tofu, and vegetables. She brought me a cup of tea, and I almost dozed off with the paper until dinner was ready...

Yes, that's a dream. I'm realizing more and more how the concept of a quiet, peaceful house is an elusive one. Life is busy. Everyone has a schedule of things they need to do. And then there's the massive list of things we want to do, but can't get to because there's not enough time in the day. There's never enough money to do what we want to do, and to attempt to do what we want to do, we work more, which gives us less time to do the things we want or need to do. It's like a whirling vortex of busyness, which no doubt has undesirable results on everyone. I'm tired and grumpy. Cristina's tired. No one wants to cook. There's a backlog of chores. The kids fight. We yell at the kids because they're fighting. They tune us out because we're yelling. The dog just pooped on the carpet again. There's cat hair on everything. Gotta get everyone to bed so the process can repeat the next day. The vortex swirls.

As I walked to my classroom this morning, I glanced at a house near my school. There were clothes hanging on a line. My first thought was how fast clothes on a line must dry here in Arizona. But then I thought of Costa Rica, and Ramon and Maritza's little house in Pavas. In the middle of their house is an open courtyard with several lines to hang clothes on. It was part of the daily ritual while we were there. Wash a load or two of clothes and hang them up to dry. And the simplicity of our time there, where your main obligation of the day was to maybe hang some clothes and take them down when dry, seemed so peaceful and...simple. The simple life. Hanging clothes to dry. Just the task alone denotes patience. There's no buzzer announcing that the clothes are done and now you must fold. Just clothes, hanging quietly in a pretty courtyard, slowly drying, encouraging us to do the same and take a break.

Memories

Aren't memories amazing? In our minds, we can remember being somewhere, or talking with someone, or doing some activity. Years, even decades later. Like an internal blog.

There are different types of memories, and I don't just mean the categories listed above. What I mean is there are memories where we can recall specific sequences of events. We remember it like a story. And then there are memories where we can recall how we felt, or the emotional state we had when we were experiencing it firsthand. Of course, I think the best memories are combinations of the two (unless of course there were painful emotions involved).

All this talk of memories was prompted by a relatively simple entry that my friend Steve posted on his blog. His family is taking a week-long vacation in a cabin in the mountains of Scotland. When I read his blog and looked at the picture, for some reason an incredibly strong memory from when we spent 3 weeks in Scotland came to mind. I don't know exactly why this memory came to me, but it was so vivid, I practically felt like I was there. Not literally, mind you, but the emotions, the feelings felt at that particular moment during my trip 5 years ago felt as fresh as if they had just happened.

The memory that came to me was when we stayed at a youth hostel in Cannich, about half an hour's drive from Loch Ness. The youth hostel was not exactly in the mountains, not exactly in the woods, but definitely a rural setting. There was a campground nearby, and a playground. The specific memory was when we were walking from the hostel, or maybe the playground, to a little convenience store nearby to get some breakfast items. I think. When I type it, it sounds completely unremarkable. I don't even have all the details. But that wasn't the power of the memory. I could feel it as if I was right there. Like a state of mind rather than a state of activity. Now that I am trying, I realize it's hard to describe. And not only does the way I felt emotionally come back to me, but other sensory things too: the cool crispness of the air, the little bags of crisps which were a staple of our inexpensive homemade lunches, the clean "Britishness" of everything.



At any rate, when I get a memory like that, it often makes me extremely wistful to be in that place again. Perhaps that's one of the negative parts of traveling...you often long to be somewhere else. I remember once getting the same yearning for Costa Rica from memories induced by, of all things, diesel fumes (not a surprise, though, since they say our sense of smell is the sense most connected to memory).


Using Google images, this is, I think, the hostel we stayed in. Not an attractive shot, but that's irrelevant. It's what's in my head that's so valuable.

If you want to see Steve's post about his upcoming vacation, there's a link to his blog on the right.

Ode to Britney Spears

I'm doing poetry with my classes right now, and I wrote a sonnet today while one of my classes was working. I had just seen a thing online about Britney Spears, so I started with the title "Ode to Britney Spears" and just went with whatever flowed. Strange thing is, I'm really not one of those Brit-watchers. I'm annoyed by the kind of people that I impersonate in this poem. Britney Spears is one of many examples of humanity at its saddest and most pathetic, and I wish people could muster up the will to turn the channel or not buy the gossip rag. But enough disclaimers.

I was tired of seeing my "screaming kid" post at the top of my blog, so I'm throwing this on just for a change.

Ode to Britney Spears
By Wayne Eury

Whenever I turn on the cable news
No matter the day or the hour
It seems that I’m always treated to views
Of struggles and needs that are dour

But there’s one thing I always trust to enjoy
A girl whose life’s gone astray
Oh, Britney, how could you ignore your boys
And go binging again one more day

So 'til Cox brings the Train Wreck Channel to my screen
I’ll have to settle for Brit
The photogs so cruel and the cameras so mean
Their passion for pain never quits

Though guilty do I feel when I watch it
I do so love watching Brit botch it

Withhold judgment on that parent with the screaming child

Went to Costco after work with the kids. Needed gas. Bella had had no nap and was falling apart as we parked the car. She wanted me to hold her. I did not want to hold her. Neither one of us was going to budge on this. The difference is I was not crying and screaming about it. But I refused to give in, so I did the dreaded deed that so many parents have done at times. You know the deed. You've no doubt witnessed it (or heard it) if you haven't done it yourself.

I dragged my screaming kid through the store while I shopped.

Yes, everyone looked. Some people even looked a little annoyed. At least it was Costco, nice and roomy. A screaming fit in Trader Joe's is hard to hide, but a screaming fit in Costco is manageable, although still a little embarrassing.

To clarify, I didn't exactly drag her. I held her hand firmly and walked. I continually (and calmly, I'm proud to say) gave her the option: she could ride in the cart or she could walk. I had had a hard day. I was tired. She's heavy. I was not going to carry her. Period.

After getting through half the store, I finally gave her the option of riding on my shoulders, which she took, much to the relief of all the other shoppers, I'm sure. I kind of gave in, I suppose, but it's easier to carry her on my shoulders than in my arms. So I can justify it that way. Neither of us got exactly what we wanted, but we came to an agreeable solution. Yes, you can compromise with a 3-year-old.

Anyway, the whole experience made me think of the times when I've seen a parent with a screaming kid in a store. I always make a bit of a silent judgment. It's only human. Man, that kid is spoiled. Or that kid's a brat. Or that parent has no control. But sometimes it's just been a long day. Sometimes, circumstances prevent the normal nap from occurring. Sometimes, when you've driven 30 minutes to get to a store, you can't just turn around and go home because your kid is throwing a fit. Sometimes you refuse to give in because you know it will make it worse next time. Sometimes it's not a loss of control, but a carefully orchestrated, noisy control.

I know. I just lived it a few hours ago.

Single-parenting for 4 days...ice cream for dinner

Cristina is in Seattle for her cousin's wedding, so I'm a single parent for four days. Last night, we needed to go grocery shopping. I'm having a potluck at work on Friday, and I offered to make Costa Rican-style arroz con pollo (rice with chicken). It's kind of time consuming to make, and if everyone hadn't gotten so excited about it, I probably would have changed to something easy (i.e. store-bought) at the last minute, but it was too late for that. Knowing I had to make arroz con pollo on top of grocery shopping and getting the kids to bed meant I did not have the energy or time to cook a real meal for the family. So on the way home, I picked up Panda Express (just for the kids). That way I could get them to bed, make my arroz con pollo, and eat a little of that for my dinner before hitting the sack.

Well, I didn't finish the arroz con pollo until 11 pm. While I was fixing it, I ate a bowl of ice cream. That turned out to be my dinner. Nice.

Usually Bella wakes me up at 5:30 (half an hour before my alarm goes off), but for some reason, she slept snuggled up to me through several rounds of me hitting snooze on my alarm clock. So I got going a little late and barely got Sofia and Lindsay to school on time, and didn't have time to feed Alex and Bella breakfast! So I bought them a breakfast burrito from Sonic. Man, I've done a pretty lame job of single-parenting! Cristina often runs late, but she's never had to resort to buying fast food.

I got to work a mere 5 minutes before my first class, but at least I have the arroz con pollo for the potluck, all the kids are fed and at school, and we now have at least a few groceries.

The fuel light came on in the van. Hope I don't run out of gas!

Tomorrow: service project with some Baha'is (we're painting a mural on an elementary school), then Horton Hears a Who with Peter and his kids. I'll grill hot dogs for dinner Saturday night. I'll just keep the junk food theme going!

I don't think there's anything planned for Sunday, except for picking Cristina up Sunday evening. Then we have 5 days to get ready for my mom, who is coming for 3 weeks.

Man, life is fast and packed chock full. When I have times like this I sometimes think of an old James Taylor song: "The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time. Any fool can do it. There ain't nothing to it. Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill, but since we're on our way down, we might as well enjoy the ride. Isn't it a lovely ride?"