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The Good, The Bad... And The Awful.

It's Red's wedding weekend... and while I had hoped to find some time to blog, stress and various travel plans have intervened. Sorry for the two day break. Posting will be light, I think, through the weekend.

Last night was the rehearsal dinner... and I missed the rehearsal itself - but rehearsals are for actors, and our friend Joey got to stand in as the Justice of the Peace... so I think it all worked out just fine.

The good - as I titled this post - is seeing Red and her MAS so happy and to be a part of what is, really, such a joyous event, one that, more than many weddings I've seen, really does reflect the two people going through with it. And the supportive friends and family around them, too.

The bad, aside from not blogging is that the whole process was kind of fraught with more emotional landmines than I expected... but much of that is passed, and we are all focused on making today - tonight's the ceremony - the best it can be.

Still, the awful part is that all of this has happened at the same moment as my own personal complete financial meltdown. I have been scrambling to change banks, keep my finances and order, and deal with the headaches that come when direct deposits are in limbo, cash machines aren't an option and credit cards won't solve the problem. It's basically a nightmare, and I'm afraid my memories of these days will really be more about the financial disaster than the joyous event.

If I can leave you one piece of advice, I can only warn you never to use TD Bank. But even the satisfaction of sharing that bit of discouragement can't change my overall sense, right now, that the bad outweighs the good, the awful is winning over everything else, and I am little more than a flower crushed under the wheel of life. This will pass... but not soon enough.

If I'm Not The One...

A couple weeks back, I got stopped by the police in one of those all-encompassing drunk driving sweeps - this never happens to me, so I was really very bewildered - and being not drunk, it all went very smoothly, though I nearly blew it because I thought the officer was just waving me through when he wanted me to stop.

There's this moment, I think most people get, when stopped by police and asked some question out of the blue - like "have you been drinking?" - where the combination of confusion and defensiveness sends up the wrong signals. And I was reminded of something that I think is still worth keeping in mind, in this post-terrorist age... that the balance of having security and giving up some of our freedom is a dance many people don't want to do.

And the reason, primarily is "not me."

The Place You Come From

My own sense of things is that if liberals want to complain about the conservative rejoicing about the Olympics... it would help if you actually a) like the Olympics and b) are the sort of "America first" person who thinks we deserve everything just because we're us.

In the short term, I think the decision by President Obama to go and try and cajole the IOC to choose Chicago will do deserved political damage - it was an overconfident, mistaken choice, and the failure to close the deal reflects on him personally - but in the long run, there won't be a story come 2016 about Chicago... but there will be plenty of discussion of the wasteful expense of the Olympics in Rio, and the devastating poverty which remains in Brazil.

The Olympic story used to be a remarkable, one world vision of how we could all get along; that started to fall apart in the eighties, partly due to the Cold War gamesmanship of the US skipping Moscow in 1980 and Russia skipping LA in 1984... but it's also a tale of the rise of corporate interests, the killing of "amateur" sport, and excessive media hype. The idea of an Olympics in Chicago - and we should remember, Bloomberg tried to sell the idea of proposing New York for similar reasons - was not, necessarily, about the idea of universal brotherhood through sport; it was a crass collection of dubious notions that a large scale event of that sort could jump start an economy, create jobs, and make Chicago a world class city (moreso than now). The most compelling alternative all along - Rio di Janeiro - always had the more emotional, reasonable story: the Olympics have never been held in South America, Rio is alrady the kind of city that has broad international appeal, and their economy might, actually, get some long term benefits.

That the Chicago folks - and the White House - willfully ignored those realities, speaks volumes.

The Wheels On The Car Go Round And Round...

It's been a fairly weird set of days here at the we-household. Last Thursday, my Mom ran into a curb late at night at her bank, on her way to the drive through ATM. Though she was able to drive home (after a Triple-A tow driver was essentially no help to her), it was clear the car was having serious problems, and late Friday we towed it to the dealer.

Today we got the news: the whole front driving system needs to be replaced and realigned, and possibly the steering rack will need replacement as well. I know I sound fairly "car knowledgable" saying all that... but I have very little idea what that entaisl. All I know is I put the key in the ignition thingie... and you're supposed to be able to go places.

We'll see what develops; what I've been feeling, most keenly, is the sense of frustration that cokes from a suburban life, stranded without one's ride. So far I've relied on the kindnesses of strangers, the kindnesses of my sister (they have two cars, and need about 1 and a half, so we can pick up some slack, like we did this weekend), taxi service, and today, a rental car. Nothing is simple. Nothing is easy. Everything has been a headache and a process and up in the air - well, to be fair, the kind stranger, and my kind sister and brother in law, have been wonderful. The rest of it is what's frustrating.

It's not as though things can change... but I'm reminded of what I liked about my urban life. Life without a car - or just the occasional rental to run out of town or to the mall - was entirely preferable to a life where a car is anything but optional. I have places to go, work to do, errands to run. I have a bridal shower this weekend. There needs to be a car. And it needs to certain. And I don't like the feeling - which I never had in the middle of the city - that without wheels, I am stranded, and out of control of my destiny. This is what a culture built around car ownership has gotten us... and if you ask me, just now... I could do without it.

And I miss our car. *sob*

I've Been Everywhere, Man...

Everywhere but here.

The living end, of course, was finally being settled enough to check in a get writing... only to discover that I couldn't get my computer hooked to the internet (in one of those scenarios where people try to give you the kind of advice people give to elderly aunts who never use a computer - "did you plug it in?" "Did you find the right internet service provider?"... a good lesson about not assuming other people are dumb... but also a reminder about how few people can really help at moments like this.

In any case, Mom and I had some lunch (and I got the most awesome hamburger I've had in months), I cooled down, and we made our way back to the Rockland Public lIbrary... which, longtime readers know, I've used before.

It's nice to be back in Maine - the weather is, if nothing else, cooler, my Mom's family still as political and gracious as ever. The drive yesterday was long, and we got off late... but the payoff was a lovely lunch in mid-Connecticut which I hope to detail shortly, and a visit with an old friend of my Mom's in Ogonquit Maine (the big resort destination around Kennebunk, where the Bushes stay).

Getting settled, and being in vacation mode, I've decided to start slow with blog postings... so I'm going to leave it here for now... and hopefuly put up something else later today.  If not, expect to see me tomorrow, full of a fabulous lobster dinner and possibly some of the best ice cream ever. See ya later...

In The Ayer

At the airport, getting ready to fly home... as difficult as the past few days have been (on top of the funeral, there was plenty of work drama as well, and frantic travel plans), the big relief was that the gathering of friends and family for Bettie provided the kind of affirmation of a life that many talk of having, but rarely get. We came together simply, respectfully, and put the important things - family, supporting one another, and honoring our elder - in front of smaller considerations.

The past couple of days have put closure on a difficult period for me, reunited me with people I care about, and allowed me to let go of some lingering issues and concerns. I'm not sure anyone could ask for more. On top of which, spending time with my mom, taking in the familiar Boston experiences we've shared for, well, my entire life, was pretty much icing on the whole thing. And on a tangential note, I'm beginning to admit, however reluctantly, that Boston is able to provide some awesome food experiences - returning to Stella in the South End was a treat, and finding another great Chinese restaurant, this time in Chinatown, was a pleasant surprise.

Of all my elder (grand level) relatives, losing Bettie may be the most profound I've had thus far - her reach and influence into my life, and of those closest to me, was hugely significant. It was a relief, then, to see I was not alone, and that as she gave to us, all of us most wanted to honor her and give back. It's not about what you get... it's about what you are able to give. And it's in the air... all around us. Give a little.

More when I get home.

United Breaks Guitars

There are a couple of airlines I try to avoid, and thankfully, because of how its business is structured, it's very easy for me to avoid United. Via Huffington Post, I now see another reason to keep them on the "avoid" list:

Full Story: http://www.davecarrollmusic.com/story... - In the spring of 2008, Sons of Maxwell were traveling to Nebraska for a one-week tour and my Taylor guitar was witnessed being thrown by United Airlines baggage handlers in Chicago. I discovered later that the $3500 guitar was severely damaged. They didnt deny the experience occurred but for nine months the various people I communicated with put the responsibility for dealing with the damage on everyone other than themselves and finally said they would do nothing to compensate me for my loss. So I promised the last person to finally say no to compensation (Ms. Irlweg) that I would write and produce three songs about my experience with United Airlines and make videos for each to be viewed online by anyone in the world. United: Song 1 is the first of those songs. United: Song 2 has been written and video production is underway. United: Song 3 is coming. I promise. Follow me at http://twitter.com/DaveCarroll

That's What Friends Are For

If I've seemed a little distant... I kind of have been; this weekend was spent visiting an old friend, and helping him out with a big project, one that left little time for regular blogging (though I tried to keep up... but yesterday pretty much got away from me).

Over the past few years - since blogging started, really, for me - much has changed in my life; I've had a lot of time to contemplate friendship, what it means, what one can and should expect in a friend. I've made new friends, lost old ones (and some new ones, even), and I've had friendships come, go, come again, and change.

Through it all, I've come to believe the best you can do is try - you can try to be the kind of friend who shows up, who listens, who tries to go above and beyond when it's possible. At the same time, it's reasonable to expect something in return - a measure of support, a sense of being heard, and understood.

I've said here any number of times, I feel lucky and blessed to have the friends I have; lucky because I'm never entirely sure I do enough on my end to be there for them... and blessed because with their love and support, almost anything is possible.

So the stars aligned and somehow, this weekend, I was able to give something back, to help out, to be there for someone else. That's what friends are for, good times and bad times. It's even worth losing a day of blogging. :)

(Flower - photo by weboy - for... Elizabeth)

There's No Place Like Home... There's No Place Like Home...

Consider, if you will, the end of The Wizard of of Oz.

I think as critics, we shy away from reexamining the "classics" of film, the real warhorses that are so bulletproof you can't challenge the accepted wisdom (though it's fair to counter that, I think, with the question of what, if anything, there's left to say). I mentioned it a while back with that penchant we have for making movie lists, too - we're conferring some notion of "classic" onto films that deserve more consideration, more examination, and always, more thought.

The Wizard of Oz is one of those things I've watched for years, but not necessarily considered deeply; like for many, it was my introduction to Judy Garland, and it took me years to see her as anything but Dorothy - gay icon, forever teenaged, pretty and perfect. And when I did broaden my appreciation of Garland, it sort of cheapened "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" - I've come to admire most the battle weary survivor, the gal who could still put on a show almost to the end, and the powerful singer she became. Those pretty, innocent early tunes have less call than "Hello Bluebird" or the no-stops version of "Just in Time" she did in her later years (or to bridge past with present, compare her teenage version of "You Made Me Love You" to the one from her concert years... that's a woman who's aching with desire, not a girl with a crush).

Watching The Wizard of Oz again while on my recent cruise - we got back yesterday - I was struck by the ending, and something I hadn't noticed before: that what really bugs me about the film is the ending. You remember - when, Glinda tells Dorothy she had the power to go home all along, and Scarecrow asks "what have you learned?" and Dorothy says (I'm quoting roughly, because it's not on IMDB) "I think I've learned that everything I need is at home. And if I think I need to go searching for something, I don't need to go any further than my own back yard... because if it's not there, than I probably don't need it anyway." And later, when she wakes up, Dorothy adds "Oh, but anyway, Toto, we're home. Home! And this is my room, and you're all here. And I'm not gonna leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all, and - oh, Auntie Em - there's no place like home!" (That last line was on IMDB.)

That hokey ending, of course, is pure MGM; I spent my cruise finally reading Neal Gabler's book on the Hollywood moguls and how they remade America through its dreams, and you can, as he writes, see the moralism of Louis Mayer in that ending. All the platitudes about home and family wrapped up in those sentiments, mouthed by Judy Garland, corseted into her role as America's perfect child-woman sweetheart. And of course... it's not true; it's not even true for the character of Dorothy and her actual experiences, considering that she's just learned "there's no place like home"... by not being at home. Moreover, it flies in the face of the other lesson American movies give us - that we need to go out into the world to become the self made people we are meant to be. There's no place like home... that's why we leave it. "I'm not going to leave it ever, ever again" is the voice of the shut-in, the paranoiac, the agoraphobe. We need to be out in the world.

Or consider Garland herself, who of course found a whole world by never wanting to go back to her own backyard. Indeed, Garland is in many ways the emblem of post-modernism as an adult: when she starts to deconstruct the pretty images created for her, to let us into the life behind the mask, the makeup and the costumes - A Star Is Born is her tour-de-force because it takes the manufactured elements of Garland's persona and rips them apart: its a fake name, makeup, a wig... and none of it can hide - or define - who the woman actually is. Yet it does define her, lock her into certain expectations... always on, always performing.... always eager to please. You want the girl next door... go next door. The Wizard of Oz can't be her best work because all it gives us - all she's allowed to give us - is the picture perfect image of a total fantasy without the leavening of realizing that what we're being sold is a lie; and many I think, supply The Wizard of Oz with more depth than it has by layering on what Garland became in real life... but of course... that's not in the movie.

I've realized that what frustrates me about The Wizard of Oz is that lie it tells itself, and us - after seeing a world of such magic, such possibilities... it says we should want nothing more than to stay home, never search, never explore... never even dream. We're given a Technicolor fantasy and then told we're better off if we never go to it. And this, in the end, we celebrate. And call classic.

And yet... coming home from the cruise - five days at sea in a fantasy world of commerce and manufactured expectations - it's true that coming home is, in its way, a relief. A return to the familiar, the expected, the way of life you already know... it's comforting, safe. And less expensive. That's the hallmark, really, of a good vacation - just enough of an escape from your everyday life to le you appreciate coming back to it. There's no place like home. It's good to be back. Forgive me, though, if I still believe in putting more faith in the value of escaping.

Crossposted from New Critics.

Like A Solar Panel... Or A Houseplant

...apparently I need to be placed in direct sunlight. Today is the first day of my actual vacation, a real trip and everything (I even packed for it), in months. I was kind of hoping to keep blogging at regular intervals... but now I've thought better of that and decided to actually rest and actually recharge... and even reassess. Officially, no plans to be back online until a week from today (Sunday the 19th).  Until then, relax. See ya later.