LOOK AT ME!!! I'M STOPPING!!!

"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Flashed the most stupid ignorant distracting DUMB device ever on the back of the SUV in front of me.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Most people know what brake lights are and that if the brake lights are on, the vehicle in front of them is slowing down or stopping. It's not only common sense, but if a person has had driver's education, it is a known fact.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Brake lights are located on the back of vehicles, including SUVs. There is one on the left side and one on the right side. If one is out, the other will still come on.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Brake lights do not blink or flash. It is not their job to do so.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Blinkers blink and flash. That is their job. And if you had driver's ed, you also know this to be true.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


But because years ago some whiny person with no common sense and no driver's ed, that couldn't tell a brake light from a Christmas light, complained they did not see the brake lights on an SUV and rear-ended it, SUVs and other modern vehicles now come with a several hundred dollar


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


light that is the most stupid ignorant distracting DUMB device ever stuck on an SUV's butt.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Let's get real. The


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


light is not a brake light and it never will be, no matter how hard it want's to be, or the regulators that cater to whiny perople with no common sense and no driver's ed, want it to be.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


Brake lights have the common sense to come on and stay on, so that you know what an SUV or other vehicle in front of you is doing - duh - slowing or stopping.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


lights have no job other than to confuse the masses who have common sense and also took driver's education.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


After all, how do we know a


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


light isn't signaling that the SUV intends to go straight ahead, just as a left blinker means it's going to turn left, and a right blinker means it's going to turn right?


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


How do we know it doesn't just want attention because it's not a Christmas light or a brake light? That's the way things are today. Everybody and everything wants attention, including the


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


light. It wants to express itself and maybe prank you into thinking it's a blinker too.


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


And now we are on the highway and the


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


light has finally stopped it's incessant


"LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING!! LOOK AT ME, I'M STOPPING"!!


cry for attention.

One Empty Tomb

We stand on the edge of uncertainty this Good Friday as U.S. warships head to the Korean peninsula in response to N. Korea's saber rattling.


History repeats, and it is much like it was when President John Fitzgerald Kennedy faced the Cuban missile crisis and a cold war with Russia was threatened by an actual war that no one really wanted and no one could know the outcome of.


The weekend will bring what the weekend will bring, and this life is never certain simply because our flesh is mortal, man has not yet learned to get along with his fellow man and most likely never will, and tyrants never cease to attempt to rule the world and instill their tyranny upon it.

But the first day of the new week will also bring a historical hope for mankind in one empty tomb that speaks of a life beyond this one where there are no tyrants, or wars, or sickness, or death.


The occupant of that tomb faced these things in His own life and succumbed physically to them because He threatened their very existence and offered the hope of freedom from them.


Not only was He the occupant of that tomb, but also the Landlord of life's vineyard, which gave Him absolute authority over it and the workers that tended to it and still do.


The difference in the darkness that fell on that first Good Friday with an eclipse of the sun and an earthquake that shook those present to their very souls, and the light that shone on that first day of the week that followed is staggering.


It is a light and a hope that transcends saber rattling, and war, and sickness, and tyrants, and death itself.

A Beautiful Day for Some of Us

For whatever reason I decided to go to Target this morning instead of Walmart to get the few grocery items I didn't pick up yesterday and also look for a pair of cargo shorts to mow in while the humidity is at the close to intolerable level.


As I walked down the fairly quiet aisles I heard a distressed, "HELP! HELP!" come from behind me and down an intersecting aisle. I noticed a clerk start running in the direction of the cries and then she stopped.


"HELP! HELP!" came the distressing cry again and she quickly started running again passed me and turned down an aisle where I could see the heads of two young women looking down at the floor.


I assumed someone with them had fallen or collapsed and it was confirmed as I heard the clerk speak, "We have a customer down!" into her hand held radio.


I silently prayed that whoever it was would be okay and I imagined them all cheerily getting ready to go to Target together on what is a beautiful, sunny day with cloudless skies, after 3 weeks of rain and storms.


There is a certain comfort and familiarity in shopping with family and friends, cruising up and down the aisles of a store with them and taking in the sounds and smells and activity going on around us, whether we need anything or not, and I hope this wasn't to be the last time whoever was on the floor would do that.


When I checked out, I was finally able to see up the aisle where several people were gathered and the two young women were there. There was something dark on the floor and I couldn't tell if it was someone lying there, or if someone was sitting up inside the circle of people.


I didn't know the people involved, but needless to say it was all rather unsettling, and it brought to mind just how quickly we are all headed to that final step we make upon this planet and into the afterlife. Though we tend to live as if we will always go on living here, our mortality is all too evident with every breath we take and with every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, and year that passes by.


Leaving the store I noticed a fire truck with lights on was coming down the through lane, and as I continued walking to the far end of the lot where my car was parked beneath the shade of tree, I watched the truck continue down the front of the store and join an ambulance already parked at the far entrance and sitting silently with its lights flashing.


I drove out of the parking lot, hoping that the person that needed assistance would be able to go home with their family later and this beautiful sunny day would not be their last one together.


Contrast and a smile was to come later as I went through the drive-thru at McDonalds. I slowed for a family crossing to go inside, and heard a little boy's innocent excitement as he clung to his father's hand, jumping up and down just a little bit, and expressing his joy at getting inside to get his chocolate milk.


He hadn't a care in the world and no clue that elsewhere, another person was facing an entirely different experience.


I hope he remains as innocent, joyful, and appreciative of the simple things in life like chocolate milk that bring us happiness while we are here.

Saving Private Ryan / Schindler’s List

                             A Comparative Film Review by Steve Anthony

 My mother frequently took me to the movies when I was a boy.   The lights would dim and I would sit there in the dark, mesmerized by the larger than life images being projected onto the screen from high above our heads.  We saw many of the popular World War II films of the time, including 

I Bombed Pearl Harbor, In Harm's Way, and The Longest Day.  While we were there to be entertained, I am sure each of us watched these films from a different perspective.

To a nine year old, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing, as long as there was the wonderful aroma and flavor of fresh hot and buttered popcorn in a box within reach.  I would also consume as many sugar laden soft drinks and boxes of candy as I could talk my mother into buying.  Occasionally there would even be a corn dog to relish; deep fried to a golden brown, with a yellow ribbon of mustard running along its length.  I never thought about the reality and seriousness of war versus what was portrayed on the screen until I got much older. 

Back then, Producer/Director Steven Spielberg’s incredible visionary talent was yet to be realized and there was no hint about the World War II films he would bring to us decades later.  Nor did I fathom digital technology, which allows us to experience the realism and horror of battle in the safety of a movie theater, or even our own living rooms as we can with Saving Private Ryan. 

Mr. Spielberg's vision, combined with his Jewish ancestry, also inspired him to give us a glimpse of the horror of the holocaust as rendered in Schindler’s List.  Using both films he brings us two very different, but equally stark realities of World War II. 

Saving Private Ryan, although opening with the historical allied D-Day invasion at Omaha Beach is mostly fictional from that point on.  Still, its unrestrained bluntness presents us with the harshness of war and the impact it can have on the emotions of those involved.  The battle scenes are portrayed so well that we almost feel as if we might be in the midst of them ourselves.  At the very least, we gain empathy for the real soldiers who were actually there.  

This is largely due to the skills and performance of the actors involved under Mr. Spielberg’s direction. ¹ Thousands of real men died on the beaches of France on June 6, 1944, in a battle which was a major turning point for the allied forces.  The film’s camera angles, close ups, and realistic sounds of war and death portray an image not soon to be erased from our collective memories.²  It’s almost as if we are allowed a brief look through the window of time at just a very small portion of that bloody day.

Saving Private Ryan should strike a personal chord with anyone who served or had relatives in the war.  For me it provides a small indication of what my father may have experienced, particularly with the closing battle of the film.  I had always pictured him with his buddies, trying to hide in a fox hole they had painstakingly chipped into hard frozen and foreign soil thousands of miles from home.  I could see them cold and shivering, rifles ready, anticipating the next wave of enemy soldiers that would advance toward them.

It wasn't until I was eighteen that I asked him about it.  His hesitant and quiet reply was that he had been in Germany in the Armored Tank Division, and yes, when required, he had killed.  He was proud to serve, but not of the killing, even if it was the enemy.  I believe this is why he never spoke about it.  Like the story shown in the film, although based on some truth, the reality is slightly different than I imagined. 

In Schindler's List, although not really a war film³, Mr. Spielberg tells us his version of the holocaust.  Unlike Saving Private Ryan, there is more historical fact in this film than fiction.  We know that some 6,000,000 Jewish people were exterminated by the Nazis.  There was also a real Oskar (Oscar) Schindler; a drunkard, womanizer, and frequent partygoer, who with his vast fortune and social status protected as many of them as he could.  History tells us this was more at the urging of his wife however, at least at the beginning, than from his own initiative.  At first Schindler’s goal is simply to make money by taking advantage of Hitler’s closing of the Jewish ghetto on March 20, 1941.  Later he realizes that a human life - any human life - is worth much more than profit.

Shooting the majority of this film in black and white provides a bleak canvas on which is painted a brooding and depressing image of the German death camps of World War II.  This technique easily allows us to envision a time when it seemed Nazi Germany would conquer the world and exterminate all those it felt didn't deserve recognition as human beings.  In reality there were more than just Jews imprisoned, mistreated, and murdered.  Ultimately we learn that men like Schindler can have a change of heart, give up their own security and fortune, and risk their lives for the sake of others.  Amidst this main theme of the movie the perseverance and will to overcome adversity and maintain dignity shines through, even as some victims of the camps go to their deaths. 

Because I no longer have the perspective of that nine year old boy and my own father fought in the war, I have come to realize that movies like Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List are not meant to provide entertainment per se.  This is as it should be.  While these films are intended to draw an audience, they were also meant to help educate that audience, and to commemorate the memory of the real victims of the war.  Together they portray its horror, man’s inhumanity to his fellow man, and the high price it took to defeat the reign of tyranny that threatened the world under Nazi Germany. 

Ultimately, Saving Private Ryan teaches us that no one should ever take for granted the freedom that we have, while Schindler’s List wants us to make sure the travesty of the death camps is never repeated anywhere in the world, against any race of people.

1. “There is terror in our eyes in some of those scenes, and rightly so, because we were genuinely scared…and we knew it was fake.” —Tom Hanks, who plays Captain Miller in Saving Private Ryan.

2. “What I tried to do in this film was approximate the look and the sounds and even the smells of what combat is like.” — Steven Spielberg, discussing his film, Saving Private Ryan.
3. “...and Schindler’s List, which I don’t consider a war film.  It’s in a category all its own.” — Steven Spielberg, discussing his World War II period films.

 Eight Legged Freaks (2002)
           a film review by Steve Anthony

What's more fun than a barrel of monkeys? A mall full of giant spiders of course!

If you're looking for a fun Halloween movie this year, don't overlook 2002's "Eight Legged Freaks."  You might remember the trailers when this movie was first released. As trailers go, what you see is what you get - a small secluded town invaded by giant jumping spiders. The action starts in the first few minutes of the film and doesn't let up until the end.

Unless spiders truly give you the creepy crawlies, this film will amuse (think "Gremlins" with eight legs) more than scare you, although some scenes of very realistic and humongous spiders snatching people away to be entombed in silk and have the juices sucked out of them later do provide a horrific ‘what if?’ nightmarish vision.

The filmmakers had a great time parodying giant bug movies of the 50's here and the movie even makes fun of itself in a few scenes. Watch for the little subtle horror homage jokes: a citizen with a chainsaw and hockey mask, a Looney Tunes®-ish fight between a cat and a giant spider inside a wall that leaves their prints in sheetrock on the other side, and even a quick attempt at often used sexual innuendo humor via a male store mannequin falling face first into the lap of a female mannequin. This happens so quickly however, that the kids and probably even some adults won't pick up on it. Don't worry about having to explain anything other than sometimes mannequins fall over onto each other amid the ruckus of creature features. [And sometimes their blow-up-auto-pilot cousins smoke on airplanes.]

Crawl, no JUMP online or to your nearest DVD rental store if you still have one in your town, pull up a web and enjoy! This is quirky entertainment that'll help take the edge off those slasher films you're watching on Halloween - at least until the door bell rings and a kid in a giant spider costume is standing on the other side. 

Song of the Cherokee

©2013 Steve Anthony
All rights reserved

 

Song of the Cherokee

 by Steve Anthony

[V1]

As I stopped beside a stream in a forest that's nearby

I spied a woman standing with her hands raised toward the sky.
She was old and she was wrinkled, her hair was flowing gray,
In her hands she held a little drum bound in feathers that were frayed.
I slipped behind a tree into the shadows of the day,
so that I would not disturb her as she sang, and as she prayed.

 [Refrain]

"Oh Great Spirit, now please hear me for my time is growing near

and my heart is deeply broken for the earth that you hold dear.
Man has robbed it of its beauty he has pillaged near and far
stripped the forests and the mountains and his profit leaves it scarred.
We've forgotten all you taught us; how to live in harmony
and to treat each other with respect, in your image we should be.
Please look down on us Great Spirit, touch our hearts and make us kind
And let us restore the beauty of the earth you left behind.
Aiyyyahhhhh aiiyyyahhh aiiyahhh aiiyyhhheeeee
Aiyyahhh aiyyyahhh hear my song of the Cherokee."

 [V2]

When she finished she walked slowly down a path and disappeared

so I followed just so I could see if she came from somewhere near
I stumbled on a pile of rocks with a marker there that read

“PLEASE RESPECT THIS ANCIENT GRAVE.
PLEASE RESPECT THE DEAD.”

And just below the marker were the words that she had said
They were carved into the ancient stones placed there above her head.

[Repeat refrain]

[Repeat] 

Please look down on us Great Spirit touch our hearts and make us kind

And let us restore the beauty of the earth you left behind.
Aiyyyahhhhh aiiyyyahhh aiiyahhh aiiyyhhheeeee
Aiyyahhh aiyyyahhh hear my song of the Cherokee.

With a Bang!

©2002-2013 Steve Anthony

All rights reserved

With a Bang!

                                                                                by Steve Anthony

            Uri raised his hand in the middle of our discussion on adverbs.  “How do you cel-ee– brrrate dees ‘In-dee-pend-ants Day’?” he asked.  “In my life, I have nev-rrr  at-ten-ded such a ting like dees.  I would like to make shorrre I do eet rrright.”

             I smiled at his broken English.  It was beautiful.  Uri, like the rest of the immigrants in my class, had learned a lot about our language in the months since I had started teaching them to speak it.  Now we spent most of our days drilling in conjugation, spelling, and pronunciation of the large vocabulary they had already learned.  They had heard of the Fourth of July – Independence Day – in the United States, but none had experienced it since arriving here to become citizens.  In just a few days they would know firsthand what traditions comprise our yearly celebration of freedom.  I could tell from Uri’s question that they were more interested in hearing about it than in learning more adjectives and adverbs.  I closed my book and placed it on the dull gray surface of the metal table next to me.

              “Well, Uri,” I started, “the class is doing very well in its lessons, so I think I can take some time to tell you how we celebrate Independence Day.”

 

There was agreement in the classroom and everyone nodded their heads.  Many started clapping their hands and wide grins of glee broke out on their faces.

 “Yes, tee-cherrr, please tell us about it,” they cried in unison.

 So far they knew nothing of the large family gatherings and picnics, in the backyards and parks of America, on the fourth of July.  The extravagant displays of rockets, sparklers, and firecrackers were as far from their minds as the other traditions our families have passed down, to be kept by each of us in remembrance of the freedom we enjoy in the United States.

 I began to tell them what to expect on their first Independence Day in this country. I started with the fireworks stands that sprout here and there along the highways weeks before the big event, like huge white mushrooms waiting for their caps to spring open to reveal rows of brightly colored items designed to entice the child in each of us.  Each stand’s big red letters and colorful streamers shining in the sun or flapping in the breeze, offer us a bigger bang and a brighter flash with each item purchased if we’ll only stop to look.

 Next I told them of the parades with their bright uniforms, marching bands, and twirling batons rising high in the air and falling back again, only to be caught by their owners before hitting the ground.  I spoke about the sound of blaring trumpets, and drums beating in rhythm to the traditional music of  Stars and Stripes Forever, America the Beautiful, and The Star Spangled Banner, and how the music rouses the crowd to heartfelt patriotism.  As throngs of people line the streets and avenues of cities and towns to watch, listen, and cheer them on, they build to a crescendo of sights and sounds to remember. 

 My appetite kicked into high gear when I told them of the picnics, and families getting together on a sultry July afternoon in the park.  I could almost see the paper plates being passed around, filled with generous dollops of velvety smooth potato salad, chicken fried to a golden brown, and piles of sweet and creamy cole slaw enticing the masses. I mentioned the aroma of charcoal mixed with the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers sizzling over it, wafting through the air and making people hungry all over again no matter how much anyone had already eaten. 

I spoke of children laughing and giggling and running everywhere with seemingly limitless energy, while adults chatted with each other and gorged themselves on the traditional cuisine of the day.  Here and there the crack of bat echoed through the air from a nearby baseball game, while the sound of a horseshoe striking a metal post driven into the brown dirt chimes in the distance. Now and then, a prankster tosses a lit firecracker dangerously close to someone’s feet just to see them jump, holler, and run away as it explodes in a white puff of smoke, scattering remnants of paper and smoke in a shower of red confetti. 

Finally I told them of the elaborate fireworks programs when darkness falls, and the whistling sounds of huge loads of gun powder and phosphorous being launched into the dark sky, to erupt in loud booms and paint a brilliant display of luminescent brilliance across it. At the finale of the display there would be a series of rapid fire explosions of sound and light, culminating in the revelation of an American flag in all its red, white, and blue glory above the heads of the crowd.

When I was finished, you could see the awe on their faces slowly replaced by the pride of having chosen to become citizens of this great nation of ours. Although I knew my words couldn’t replace the actual experience of an Independence Day celebration, I tried to make them anticipate it when it came.

“What I have told you is only a small sample of what it is like to experience a real Fourth of July celebration,” I said.  It will be much better when you go for yourselves, and you will build your own traditions over the years, for you and your families.”

There was a pause as they contemplated what I had told them, and briefly discussed it among themselves. 

            Finally, Uri spoke. “It is okay, tee-cherrr.  It is good. You cel-ee-brate ‘In-dee-pend-ants-Day’ like such an im-porrr-tant event should be cel-ee-brated. W-w-wid a bang!”