Film Review: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

If someone wanted to make a parable film that summarizes the essence that drove many people to vote for Donald Trump in the last election, they could do worse than the film Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. The characters, almost without fail, are full of anger. All of them are looking for an outlet to their anger, but the rightful target for their anger is unclear for almost everyone except Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand).Mildred is the backbone of the film. We meet her seven months after her teenage daughter has been raped, murdered, and set on fire. The police have made no progress in the investigation-she says she hasn't heard a word from them since her daughter died-and her frustration leads her to erect the three billboards referenced in the title.The billboards question the police chief by name. The chief, Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) is respected in town, and he's also dying from pancreatic cancer. Those two factors contribute to many citizens of the town siding with the chief rather than Mildred.Besides the slow investigation, Mildred has plenty of other things to be angry about. Her ex-husband is dating a nineteen-year-old woman. An officer on Willoughby's force, Dixon (Sam Rockwell), has decided to do everything he can to make Mildred's life even more difficult, and James (Peter Dinklage), a dwarf, is trying to put the moves on her, romantically.All of these people end up victims of Mildred's anger, but in the absence of her daughter's killer they're all poor substitutes. Even Willoughby receives more respect from her than anger. She admits that she put his name on the billboard not out of any personal hostility toward him, but rather because he's the man at the top, and the buck stops with him.But other than the desire to find the man who killed the teenage girl, it's a thread of angry discontent that holds together the characters in the film. Willoughby's happy with his life, but he sees the end approaching. Dixon has been accused of police brutality (which somehow leads to humorous exchange between him and Mildred). Mildred's life had begun falling apart even before her daughter was murdered. Through flashback we see a fight between her and her daughter in which hateful things are said, and horrible things are wished upon others. In the same scene we learn that she once drove drunk with her kids in the car, and that her ex-husband used to beat her. And her ex-husband, who obviously misses his daughter, also has a sort of latent anger at finding himself involved with a nineteen-year-old.So what to do with all of that anger? It finds an outlet, and as the nineteen-year-old mentions at one point, anger begets anger.The film is bleak in tone, character, and appearance. Much of it takes place under gray skies, and Ebbing is the sort of small, perhaps past-its-prime town that can sap the last bits of life left in its residents. Everyone drinks, which we can sort of understand. With their environment and their life circumstances it's no wonder they want to escape, and alcohol helps them do it.It would be easy to portray Mildred as someone deserving of endless understanding and compassion, but they don't try to smooth out her rough edges. She does many things in the film that make it hard to side with her. Willoughby comes to the realization of just how cold-hearted she can be when he's questioning her about why she put up the billboards with his name on it. He tells her that he's got cancer, and is then surprised when she tells him that she already knew. "You knew I had cancer and you still up the billboards?"Francis McDormand plays this sort of stern, no-nonsense character so well, and she's got a couple of scenes where we see just how hardcore she is. Sam Rockwell's Dixon is a jerk, but as Willoughby points out, he's got heart and he's a good person deep down. I don't know if Rockwell's just getting old, or if he intentionally tried to look pitiful for this role, but he pulls it off. And is it ever not great to see Woody Harrelson on screen?Although there is a central question of the movie - who killed the girl? - the film is interested in more than catching the bad guy. The characters transform both because of things that happen to them, and because of realizations they arrive to. And although there isn't a single character that we can like without reservation (except for Robbie the advertising exec who rents the billboards), we can't completely hate all of them either.There are moments of real humor mixed in with all of the heaviness, as well. Much of it comes from things that are so inappropriate that they're only funny in the context of even worse things that are happening, but it doesn't matter. Funny is funny.We're left to speculate on what the future holds for the characters. We've watched as they've balanced on the fence that will separate a wasted life and fulfilled life for each of them. It's not clear which direction any of them will go, but at least by the end they realize where they're perched.4 starsWasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: Film Review: The Greatest ShowmanIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: The Truth About The A-Team Van Changed my Life

Film Review: The Greatest Showman

There's a moment in The Greatest Showman where P.T. Barnum's daughter tells her father that she's quitting ballet. She's just had her first recital, and the other society girls her age have made it clear that she's not welcome. But rather than admit how the other girls hurt her, and that she feels out of place, she tells her father that ballet's just too hard. When he tells her that he believes in her and that she can do it, she tells him that ballet requires real talent. It's not fake like his circus.The daughter didn't intend to cut Hugh Jackman's P.T. Barnum with that statement, but rather just repeated what she'd heard everyone around her saying. But that question-what's real and what's fake-runs throughout the film.After catching a glimpse of Barnum at the pinnacle of his success, the film flashes back to his childhood and we follow his journey from poor tailor's son to the world's foremost showman. He woos Charity (Michelle Williams), the daughter of a wealthy family for whom Barnum's father tailored, from the time they're about ten years old, until they're adults and she leaves her life of privilege to attach herself to Barnum, who could provide nothing but big plans and the optimism that he knew how to follow through on them.The film transpires over a number of decades. It's obvious that time passes as Barnum grows from a child, to a newlywed, and then to a father. Once he reaches adulthood it's less clear how much time is passing. Did his rise and fall occur in the span of a couple of years, or a few decades? We don't know. Perhaps the filmmakers didn't find that important, but as someone who's always trying to place events on a timeline, it annoyed me at times. His daughters didn't grow very old, so maybe it all happened in a few years. If so, it's an eventful few years.However, while the events of the film are important in telling the story, the real substance of the film is the question of what's fake versus what's real, and the role that joy plays in our lives.As Barnum begins putting together his collection of human oddities who will form the initial backbone of his circus, his goes to visit a dwarf who lives with his mother. He tells the man that he's putting together a show and he needs a star. "You want people to laugh at me," the dwarf said. To which Barnum replies, "They're laughing anyway, kid, so you might as well get paid." The dwarf shuts the door in his face, so Barnum tries a different tack, and appeals to the man's desire for positive attention, which works.In that moment we see Barnum's ability to instantly read a situation and figure out what someone wants, even if they don't know they want it. In just a few seconds the dwarf went from someone who appeared disinterested in even talking to Barnum, to following him to his circus. And once Barnum figured out what the people wanted, all he had to do was give it to them and then convince them that they wanted it.One of the characters, the Bearded Woman (Keala Settle), says, "Our own mothers were ashamed of us. They hid us our whole lives." Barnum had the foresight to understand that the general public had an interest in seeing those people who had always been hidden away, and that if he produced a good show the audience would come to see oddities, but eventually move past that and enjoy the entertainment.In watching the movie we can sort of feel how those first crowds felt. The dwarf is short, and the woman has a beard, and another guy has tons of tattoos, and a different guy is fat. It's easy to get hung up on those things, but as soon as they sing, and dance, and perform, it's just as easy to forget about them and marvel at the show. That's what happened as I watched.Jackman is perfect for this. He's got the sort of everyman quality that's important for portraying Barnum, yet his singing and dancing seemed impeccable to my amateur eye. He can act, too, which he shows us in the non-musical scenes. Michelle Williams is great as his wife. We believe that she loves him so much that she's willing to turn away from her family, and when Barnum loses site of what's important, she sets him straight by reminding him that she never cared about anything other than living life with the man she fell in love with.This is the sort of movie that will age very well. It's a big production, with memorable songs, big and small. The scenes where just one or two characters sing are touching, and scenes with a few dozen singing are exhilarating. There's a lot here, and a second or third viewing would reveal more to see, simply because there's so much in the scenes with big songs that we can't possibly take it all in at once.And although the theater critic, and high society leaders, and the ruffian townies are concerned throughout with what's real and what's fake, by the end we understand that to Barnum the question of real or fake was irrelevant. "Men suffer more from imagining too little, than imagining too much," he says when defending his show.The film begins with a quote from Barnum: "The noblest art is that of making others happy." If that's true, then this film is very noble indeed.3.5 stars.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: Film Review: Jumanji: Welcome to the JungleIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: The Truth About The A-Team Van Changed my Life

Film Review: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle

Few things about popular films annoy me more than when a film uses the title of a previous work, but invents a new story to go along with it. It seems like cheating to me. A familiar title provides some recognition, but the filmmaker can take the story in any direction they wish.21 Jumpstreet is a prime example of this. The film starred Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum, and the plot had almost nothing to do with the television show from two decades before. Actually, this might not be the best choice to prove my point because I thoroughly enjoyed 21 Jumpstreet, and the sequel, 22 Jumpstreet. (Although I do think the sequel should have been called 42 Jumpstreet. No one asked me though.)But it seems to me that if you're going to use the same name as a previously-produced film, television show, book, or any other work of art, the plot of the new work should somehow connect with the plot of the original work.I saw the original Jumanji in theaters when it came out, but it didn't make much of an impact on me. I've never seen it again, and it never occurs to me as a film I should show to my kids. Other than animals running through a house, I don't remember anything about it.However, I know that this new film, Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, isn't related to the original film, except that they're both descendents of the original work, a 1981 children's book called Jumanji. And although I found the original Jumanji film forgettable, I suspect this one will remain among my favorite family films forever.The plot is simple. Four high schoolers find a game called Jumanji-updated from the board game version in the original mid-90s film to a video game-decide to play the game, and are magically transported inside the game, where they become the characters they chose at the beginning of the game and have to complete a mission in order to return to their real lives.The high schoolers are a disparate bunch. There's the geeky, lanky white kid, Spencer, who used to be good friends with the athletic black kid, Fridge, but is now relegated to doing his homework for him. There's the superficial blonde girl, Bethany, and the moody, serious girl, Martha. As they each end up in detention for various reasons the film begins with a vibe similar to The Breakfast Club.Once they're sucked into the game, they're all transformed into characters that are almost too-predictably opposite their real-life personas. Geeky Spencer becomes a character portrayed by Dwayne Johnson, has no weaknesses, and can throw people throw walls. Athletic Fridge becomes a character portrayed by Kevin Hart. At least a foot shorter, not as tough, and no longer the center of attention, Fridge's personality is still intact, but he must adjust to his new limitations. Martha becomes a badass martial artist portrayed by Karen Gillan. She must work to overcome her shyness, and seems uncomfortable with her new power, but she adjusts. The biggest transformation occurs with Jack Black's portrayal of Bethany. Her horror at becoming "an overweight, middle aged man," provides more than a bit of satisfaction.With such predictable, cliché transformations, it would be easy for the film to run off the rails, as we become indifferent as to whether the characters are saved or not.The performances of the actors are too good to let that happen though.Jack Black eased up on his ever-present Jack Black-ness, and instead of Jack Black doing his version of a character (I like Jack Black, but he's always Jack Black in every single film), we get the feeling that a teenage girl is doing her version of Jack Black.Dwayne Johnson shows that he can carry a film. He's the leader of the pack, and given his character's importance in the game, he has to express charisma, and he does that easily.I'm not a fan of Kevin Hart most of the time. He's like cyanide: a little goes a long way. But the rest of the cast is there to keep the spotlight off of him, so he's left to interject it short bursts, which is the way I like him best.Karen Gillan has a scene where one moment she has to awkwardly flirt with two men, before kicking their asses a moment later, and she pulls it off, no problem. One of the only problems with the film is I wished she would have been given more to do. A couple of her scenes are critical, but we don't get to see as much of her personality as we do the other three.I wish Hollywood made more movies like this. It's pure adventure comedy that appeals to the whole family. Once the kids enter the video game the plot is non-stop, and there are enough twists and turns to keep us interested beyond the gimmicky character transformation.I wouldn't mind another Jumanji film after this one, although it's difficult to imagine how they could make another with this cast. It would almost have to be an entirely different story. In the meantime, maybe I'll go back and watch the original Jumanji. But I already know there's no way that film will be as satisfying as this one.4 starsWasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: Writing Movie Reviews Provides an Excuse for Not WritingIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Where Are All the Films About the Eighties?

Writing Movie Reviews Provides an Excuse for Not Writing

I recently bought a MoviePass, and I love it. MoviePass permits members to watch one movie in theaters per day for a flat monthly rate. I pay ten bucks per month. It was on sale for seven bucks a month ago. I won’t actually go to one movie every day, but it’s nice to have the option.I’ve never gone to a movie by myself, but that day is coming very soon. There are always movies I want to see at the theater. Some of them are good, some of them aren’t, but I can appreciate a bad movie, so I don’t mind.In the past I’ve literally gone years without seeing a film in a theater. It’s difficult to get to theaters with young kids, but even as they grew older I used expense as an excuse for not going. But now that I’m paying ten dollars per month, I should go to the movies more often so I get my money’s worth. The financial part of the equation has shifted.The other reason that I haven’t gone to see movies at the theater as often as I like is time. I’ve written many times before about how I’m obsessed with time. Taking two-and-a-half hours to go watch a film has always been a time cost I haven’t been willing to pay.Instead, I think of all of the other things I could do with that time. I could write, or sleep, or spend time with my kids, or any of the thousand other things that I always wish I had more time to do. Going to the movies just seemed like the sort of luxury that I didn’t want to afford myself, timewise.But then, as so often happens in writing, two separate ideas came together to form a solution.I want to see more movies. I want to write more blog posts. Why not combine the two?If I commit to writing film reviews as blog posts, then all of a sudden seeing two films a week becomes research for my blog rather than mindless, escapist entertainment. Most of the time I don’t have trouble coming up with topics to write about. If I don’t write anything for a while it’s not because I don’t have ideas, it’s because I haven’t made writing a priority.My hope is that if I spend a couple of hours at a movie theater I won’t want to further waste that time by failing to write about what I watched. So instead of trips to the theater taking away time from writing, I hope that it actually adds to the amount of time I’m writing. And since writing leads to writing, trips to theater should have a domino effect.So look for film reviews to become part of this blog.It won’t be a stretch for me.For the past seven years I’ve kept a list of every film I’ve watched. I haven’t checked how many are on the list, but I know it’s well over 300. And for many of those (100? 150?) I’ve already written reviews. No one has read them, and I haven’t gathered them all into one place, but they exist. So on top of reviews of new films, I’ll throw in reviews from older movies that I’ve watched and previously written about.I’ve mentioned particular movies in previous posts. Remember Murder By Phone? Or A League of Their Own? Or even Bull Durham?Of course none of those are strictly film reviews, and I can’t guarantee that each film-related blog post will read like a film review, but it’s a starting point.One of the things that I enjoy most about writing film reviews is comparing my thoughts about a film to Roger Ebert’s thoughts about a film. He’s no longer writing movie reviews, of course, but he left behind so many that I have plenty of room for comparison.I get so excited when I make a point about a movie in my review, and then read Ebert’s review only to find out that he made the same point, or had the same reaction, or drew the same conclusion.Look for the first film review soon. I hope you’ll give it a Thumbs Up! Read my first review, Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, here.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: Our Weekend at the Cubs ConventionIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Sharing a Night of Film Noir With My Ten-Year-Old Son

Our Weekend at the Cubs Convention

When I was thirteen years old, my dad bought passes for us to attend the 7th Annual Cubs Convention. I had no idea what to expect, since no kid really understands what a convention is. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that Convention was really just another word for Awesomeness.We met players, listened to them tell stories, and stood in line for autographs. I literally did not possess the vocabulary to express how great that weekend was. Twenty-six years later, I still can’t express it.My dad took me again the following year, and I walked side-by-side with Harry Caray down a hallway. Holy cow, indeed!I haven’t been back since that 8th Annual Convention when I was fourteen, but now that my own son has developed a Cubs obsession, it seemed the perfect time.So this past weekend he and I shutout the rest of the world, and immersed ourselves in the Cubs.The convention began Friday evening, but we arrived a few hours early to hang out. Then we spent twelve hours there on Saturday, and another three hours on Sunday. Despite freezing temperatures outside, inside one hotel in Chicago summer seemed just around the corner.I’ll be sure to recap the entire weekend in my own personal journal, but in this space I just want to share a few highlights and thoughts.We saw the former Cubs closer in the lobby, and I asked him if he’d take a picture with my son. He obliged, didn’t seem the least bit inconvenienced, and chuckled when my son pointed out the drastic difference in their height. Good lord, look at the size of his hand! (By the way, how is he not in the Hall of Fame?)Andre Dawson has the nicest autograph I’ve ever seen. Andre was signing autographs for charity on Friday night, so we paid some money and he signed a ball for my son. Instead of just scribbling on the ball, he meticulously wrote his name, and then when he gave my son’s pen back to him he smiled and said, “That’s a really nice pen!”YouTube is great for young baseball fans. Bill Buckner also signed for the same charity. I suggested we pay for his autograph, too, and at first my son resisted. I explained that Buckner had a long career, was a fantastic hitter, and a long-time fan favorite. Then I remembered how my son probably knew him.The 1986 World Series. I reminded my son of the play, and all of a sudden he knew Buckner. He got his autograph, shook his hand, took a picture with him, and became a fan. My son has watched hundreds of hours of baseball highlights on YouTube over the past couple of years, which helped him place Buckner in history. I couldn’t get him interested in Buckner’s career by just explaining it to him, but when he associated him with that clip he’d seen so many times, he took a deep interest in him. Not only in that one ground ball, but in his 22-year career. YouTube helped make that happen.Former players like to be remembered. Bobby Dernier seems willing to talk to anyone, anytime. Steve Trout had more fun than anyone I saw the entire weekend. He sat at an autograph table and chatted with everyone who came up to him. Jody Davis seemed genuinely touched when the crowd waiting for his autograph started chanting, Jo-dy! Jo-dy!The bathroom is a great place to see famous people. I peed next to Tom Dreesen when I was thirteen. I’ve never forgotten it.At one point this weekend—I won’t say when or where because I don’t want everyone showing up at MY bathroom next year—my son and I saw the following people in or outside the bathroom within ten minutes: Kerry Wood, Rick Sutcliffe, Jed Hoyer, Jim Deshaies, Len Kasper, Jody Davis, Laura Ricketts, Willson Contreras, and Bobby Dernier (he was everywhere!).We saw Derrek Lee a separate time. It’s easy to think of these guys as larger-than-life baseball players, superheroes almost. But it’s important to remember that they’re just people like the rest of us. Seeing Derrek Lee holding his young daughter’s hand helped humanize him, and I was surprised that none of the handful of people around asked him for his autograph at that moment.Speaking of autographs…. Nothing makes adults act more childish than autographs. I loved getting autographs when I was a kid. I didn’t know it at the time, but what appealed to me most was the interaction with the person giving the autograph. I wanted to be close to him, talk to him, have a moment of his time. The actual autograph was secondary.This is borne out by the fact that I have a baseball signed by Billy Williams and Fergie Jenkins, two Hall of Famers, and I’m not entirely sure where it is at the moment. I know I still have it—I saw it a couple of months ago—but I’m not sure where it is. And maybe it’s worth some money, but I’ll never know because its value to me doesn’t come from dollars, but rather memories.Sure, I like the ball, and it’s cool to have the autographs, but what’s more important to me is the memory of meeting Billy Williams outside Wrigley Field. I asked him to sign the ball, and he asked why I was wearing a Phillies hat. I explained it wasn’t a Phillies hat. The “P” stood for Portage, my little league team.I don’t have that desire to meet players anymore. Had I been alone, instead of with my son, I wouldn’t have asked Rick Sutcliffe or Lee Smith for a picture. And I wouldn’t have stood in line to get anyone’s autograph. It seems like a great pursuit for kids, but it just seems a little weird to me to have a bunch of adults waiting in line for an hour to get some baseball player’s autograph. I’m sure part of the appeal is the monetary value, but it’s only worth anything because adults desire it.Other highlights…Mike Remlinger signed a ball for my son, and as he handed the ball back to him, he said, “You’ve got great hair. I bet you could grow a great ‘fro!” My son couldn’t have smiled wider.Pat Hughes had a booth where he was selling the baseball radio broadcaster CDs he has produced. My son and I purchased a CD, and Pat signed it. He then engaged us for a couple of minutes, and I told him how, during the seventh game of the World Series, my kids and I gathered in the basement and listened to his call, and how I recorded his call, and my kids’ reaction to his call with a video camera. He said just thinking of that gave him goosebumps.Then the next day we walked past his booth again, and he said, “Hey, you guys were here yesterday!” Pat Hughes is awesome.Friday afternoon we waited in line to pickup our registration packets. While we waited a middle-aged dude and younger guy who looked like his son walked to the front of the line, gave their names, got their packets, and left. I thought the young guy might be a Cubs prospect or something, but didn’t recognize him.Friday night I saw the same two guys near a player’s entrance to the ballroom, and the older guy said something, the security guy opened the door, and the two of them walked right in.On Sunday I saw the same two people entering the hotel, and only at that moment did it occur to me that the older guy was Doug Dascenzo, a Cubs outfielder from twenty-five years ago. Saturday afternoon he had signed a ball for my son and talked to the two of us for a few minutes, and I still didn’t recognize him as the guy I’d seen twice the night before.Like my own Cubs Convention experience when I was a kid, I suspect that my son will never forget this weekend.And that’s worth more than any autograph.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: I Bought a New Car But I'll Miss My Old CarIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: I Won't Cry if the Cubs Lose, But if They Win...

I Bought a New Car But I'll Miss My Old Car

I bought a new car a few days ago. After driving a fifteen-year-old Chevy Cavalier with 137,000 miles on it, the new car is a nice change of pace.I mean literally a change of pace. The old car barely accelerated anymore, and this new car—even though it only has four cylinders—has plenty of giddy up.It’s nice to drive and not have to worry about how loud the muffler is, or if the heat shield is going to keep rattling or dragging on the concrete. I no longer have to worry about inadvertently causing a road rage incident just because my turn signal works only sometimes.And although I like to tell myself the faded splotchy paint, rusted area beneath the gas tank door, and cracks in the dashboard just added to the character of the car, the truth is the car looked old and junky.To say nothing of how technology has changed in cars since 2002. The old car had a CD player that worked when it wanted to, but no backup camera, no Bluetooth, and no bar graph that shows fuel efficiency over the previous fifteen minutes. After a few days of driving this new car, I’m amazed that any car can operate without any of those things.This new car is making me soft.This is the end of the line for the old car. I planned to trade it in to the dealership when I bought the new car, but even the dealership didn’t want it. They claimed that disposing of the vehicle would cost them so much, and the car was worth so little, that they couldn’t offer anything for it.So to the junkyard it goes. The guy I talked to at the junkyard offered a couple hundred bucks for the car, which is its value based on scrap metal prices in my area. I’m tempted to keep it and sell it off for parts on my own, but it doesn’t take too long to realize how much of a pain in the ass that would become.Although I love the new car, and the peace of mind that comes along with it, part of me will miss the old car. I’m nostalgic for everything all the time, so that shouldn’t be too surprising. I’ve spent hours working on this car to keep it running the past few years, and to see it just end up in a junkyard seems like a waste.With my own two hands I’ve replaced the alternator, the water pump, the rear brakes, the front brakes (a few times), the front wheel bearing, the catalytic converter, and numerous other easy repairs like the battery, sensors, and thermostat. I’ve got dozens (hundreds?) of hours of sweat equity in that car.But in the end, my skill level wasn’t high enough to keep it going.For the past few months something with the rear wheel is making it more difficult to come to a complete stop. The check engine light has been on for over a year, telling me I need to replace the engine coolant temperature sensor, which I’ve done three times to no avail. When the internet told me that a short in the wires from the computer was the likely culprit, I spent an afternoon in a junkyard trying to harvest wires before realizing I was in over my head and abandoning the project.So the time came when I had to move on and pour resources into a replacement.But that car has been around for fifteen years. My life has changed a lot during that time, and this car has been witness to all of it.We can’t just accumulate stuff though. At least not stuff that occupies as much space as a car does. And it’s not like I’m going to keep it in storage and let my kids drive it when they get their drivers licenses.There are two types of people in this world: people who trade their car every two or three years and have a perpetual car payment, and people who get a car and drive it until they’ve squeezed every last ounce of utility out of it. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which group I fall under.It’s time to let it go, though. I’ll take pictures before the junkyard comes to pick it up. (Incidentally, who knew that junkyards pickup cars? Although I guess that’s exactly what happened in that old Victory Auto Wreckers commercial from the 80s. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you obviously aren’t from Chicago!)Pictures are the way to remember things. Looking at the car will bring back memories, and it’s those memories that I want, not the car itself. Better to look at pictures of the car and bring the memories back that way. Pictures take up less space, and I don’t have to buy insurance for those. But we can buy a new car, we can’t buy new pictures, so insurance is worthless anyway.Speaking of insurance, it just occurred to me that I paid more to insure this car for the previous six months than I’ll get for selling it to the junkyard.Yes, it’s time to let it go.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: I Didn't Read a Single Book in 2017IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: A Breakup Letter to my First Car

I Didn't Read a Single Book in 2017

I published two new novels in 2017, and re-released an old novel with a new cover. I launched a website for my writing, and I spent some money on advertising. I built an e-mail list of readers to whom I can directly advertise when my next book is published.Oh, and let’s not forget the 64 posts that have appeared on this blog. (That’s a disappointing number. I would have guessed I wrote at least 100 posts. Although, in case you hadn’t noticed, I have largely abandon this blog over the past couple of months.)So I did a lot of writing in 2017, but I have a confession to make: I didn’t read a single book in 2017. That’s indefensible.For my birthday in April my kids bought me a book that I wanted — Letterman: The Last Giant of Late Night by Jason Zinoman. As you can probably guess it’s a biography of David Letterman. I dove right into it and read the first fifteen pages. Then the next day I read a few more. The next day I read a few more.And then I stopped.Sometime in November I thought, “I haven’t read a book this year. I better get on it.” I picked up the Letterman book again, realized that I had no idea on what page I had left off (I don’t use bookmarks. Maybe that’s an idea for a future post!), and decided to just start over.I read forty or fifty pages this time—again, I’m not sure where I left off—but I didn’t finish it. Days passed, weeks passed, and then we yelled Happy New Year last night and thus ended my first bookless year in decades.To be clear, I’m talking about reading a book by myself, for my own pleasure. Books that I’ve read aloud to my kids don’t count, even though I enjoy them, too. It also doesn’t count reading my own books. I consider that part of writing, not reading. Although it is interesting to me how quickly I forget what I write, so sometimes reading a book that I wrote keeps me on the edge of my seat, even though I wrote it!One of my favorite websites is Goodreads, which is all about books. They have a great feature where users can keep track of the books they’ve read, and write reviews of them. I’ve tracked almost every book I’ve read (in looking at the list now, I see that I’ve forgotten a couple over the past two years), along with ratings and reviews of all of them, going back to 2008.But a quick review of that list shows that the last book I finished reading was Here, There, Elsewhere: Stories from the Road, by William Least Heat-Moon. And that was in March 2016. Which means I’m going on almost two years without reading a book!And if we go back even further, we find that I’ve only finished one other book — Nobody’s Fool by Richard Russo—since July 2014.That’s more than three years!In his book On Writing, Stephen King says, “If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write.” I’ve always agreed with this sentiment, so it alarms me that I’ve set out to take a real shot at a writing career while abandoning the other side of the equation.This isn’t a New Year’s Resolution post. I’m not going to resolve to read more books in 2018, or set a goal of 20 books or anything. Instead, I’m just going to remember Stephen King’s words.I’m not one of those people who can remember particular lines from books years after I’ve read them. I always remember whether I liked a book, or the basic plot points, but quotes elude me. So the fact that I remember that Stephen King quote 17 years after I read it says something about its importance to me, even on a subconscious level.I plan to do a lot of writing in 2018, and since Stephen King knows a thing or two about writing, I’ll defer to his expertise on the subject. It’s time to get to work.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

PREVIOUS POST: Five Years After Sandy Hook, What Will it Take to Pass Gun Violence Prevention Laws?IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Our Family's Long Relationship With Where the Wild Things Are

Five Years After Sandy Hook, What Will it Take to Pass Gun Violence Prevention Laws?

Today is five years since twenty children were murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary school. Those then-first graders would be eleven or twelve years old today.I think of them all the time. My own daughter’s a first grader this year, and my two sons were in second grade and kindergarten then. Every time I drop them off at school, or visit their school, I think of those kids at Sandy Hook. Every time I think about guns, I think about those kids.“They had their entire lives ahead of them: birthdays, graduations, weddings, kids of their own.”That’s what President Obama said in his remarks after the murders, and I think about that all the time. I think about the things my own kids have accomplished in the past five years, and breathe a sigh of relief that fate has permitted them to do so.And I think about what it must have been like for those kids on that day. The sheer, unimaginable terror they must have felt in the last moments of their lives. I breathe another sigh that my own kids haven’t had to experience such a feeling. And I know that despite the horrific, heartbreaking, repulsive fear that I feel when imagining my own kids in such a situation, it’s nothing like what those kids actually felt.In the five years since then, not a single federal law has been passed to help curb gun violence. Not one. Even the most basic restrictions—banning assault weapons and requiring background checks for every single gun transaction—failed to pass in 2013 because so many of our elected representatives (including Democratic senators Max Baucus, Mark Begich, Heidi Heitkamp, Mark Pryor) are disgusting cowards who lack the courage and vision to effectively lead their constituents.If gun fetishists in this country won’t accept even the most reasonable, benign, low-level, non-freedom-infringing gun restrictions, then those people who believe that their right to bear arms is more important than the lives of 30,000 people who die from gun violence every year leave us no choice but to repeal the Second Amendment.We’re a long way from that happening. Getting two-thirds of the House and Senate, or two thirds of states to propose such a repeal, and then getting three-fourths of states to ratify an appeal, isn’t something that will happen soon.But it can happen. The Constitution is designed to be changed. The Supreme Court has changed its mind on previous rulings.In 1857 the Supreme Court decided that a person whose ancestors were imported into the United States as slaves were not citizens and could not sue. At the same time, a large portion of the American economy relied on slave labor. Doing away with slavery and granting citizenship to all Americans was hard to imagine at that point. Yet ten years later two new Constitutional amendments outlawed slavery and made those former slaves citizens.It took a Civil War and 600,000 deaths to bring about that change though. So we’ve more than paid the price for changes in our gun laws. We lose a Civil War’s worth of people to gun violence every couple decades in this country.Besides thousands of gun deaths, what will it take to bring sensible gun restrictions to the United States?Had you asked me that question five years and one day ago, I would have thought that the murder of twenty kids at an elementary school would be enough to bring about change. But I would have been wrong. Many of our elected representatives, and millions of our fellow citizens, decided that their gun fetish is worth the lives of twenty schoolchildren.So what will it take? I don’t know. What can be more disgusting than what happened at Sandy Hook?Perhaps we need to look at it from the point-of-view of those who protect the Second Amendment at all costs. We need a more expansive imagination.What if we could bring to life each of the provisions of the tax cut bill currently making its way through Congress? That might be far-fetched, but don’t forget, according to some, corporations are people, too.So imagine that the tax cut bill passes. And imagine that when it passes each provision comes to life. And imagine if some madman burst into the National Archives and Records Administration and gunned down each provision of that tax bill, leaving them dead on the floor, huddled beneath desks, cowering in closets.We all know what would come next: meaningful gun violence prevention, because those in Congress would have finally lost something they care about.Wasn't that well-written and fun to read? You should subscribe to my blog and we'll send you an e-mail every time I write a new one. Type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

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