Give advice to yourself in the past.
(age 10) - don't push Jere down the stairs on his Ninja Turtles bean-bag chair, he'll never forgive you.
(age 15) - be warned when you watch Romeo and Juliet for the first time, love will be unobtainable in your eyes hence forth and needn't be tragic to be real.
visit your Grandmother before you leave for Germany, you won't see her again before she passes away.
pay no mind to the people who comment on your day dreaming and quiet nature, this behaviour will be a great source of inspiration for you.
(age 16) - don't make your mom cry... ever, you'll feel terrible about it for years to come.
don't be discouraged your first day of soccer try-outs, return the next day and give it your all, you love how you feel when you're on the soccer field.
don't come home from school and cry in the bathroom everyday, you're beautiful.
(age 17) - don't kiss Christopher on his 18th birthday, will lead to over 10 years of great confusion.
(age 19) - don't move to Las Vegas, will be 8 years of heartache and unbearable heat.
(age 23) - be a better example for your younger brother Jere, you'll feel guilty for his mistakes in the future.
(age 24) - don't leave the ky jelly on the kitchen table, will lead to extreme embarrassment.
(age 26) - don't eat at the asian fusion restaurant in London with Toni, you'll get the worst food poisoning ever.
(age 27) - after your break-up, don't move back to America immediatley but instead, move to the Shakespeare and Company bookstore, write your children's book and make a life for yourself in Paris.
do realize you can and will love again.
(age 28) - be you, mistakes and all.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Learning to Love You More #59
Interview someone who has experienced war.
"James Ruffer, father and fighter pilot of the Vietnam War"
me: Why did you decide to join the service?
James Ruffer: We had a war, Vietnam. I had been in college when the war started, the fighting started and I was patriotic and wanted to help the cause. I believed that if we didn’t stop communism in Vietnam and south East Asia that it’d spread to the Philippines and other places in that area just like we had the problem in Eastern Europe and with North Vietnam invading South Vietnam, so on. Pretty much believed that communism was out to do just what it said it was going to do and that was “bury us” and so that’s why I signed up.
me: Can you tell me a brief timeline of your years in the military?
James Ruffer: Well, I was born in the military. My dad was in the military, we were in a war when I was born. I lived through the rest of the Second World War and then the Korean War and then the Vietnam War started and so I joined up in 66’ and except for medical school I was back in the service again by 79’ and stayed in until I retired in 95’. So it’s like a 30 year period of military service with the exception of medical school but I don’t think I ever really left the military at any time in my life. I was fighting the Japanese and the Germans as a little boy and the North Koreans and there’s always a great alarm in America. There’s always great alarm, concern for the world and for the sake of freedom.
me: What was one experience you remember from war?
James Ruffer: Well, I remember leaving my wife and three little girls. I was looking forward to going over, flying Marine Corps fighter bombers, supporting the troops, close air support and interdiction and whatever else we were asked to do. So training was exciting and we were all military men and there was no conflict of interest, we were simply all in it together.
Didn’t really know much about… didn’t pay to much attention to what was going on in society, so I missed that era of the hippies and the anti-war on college campuses but when I left in August of 69’ my best friend had just preceded me over and he was an Aviator also and before I even left he had been killed. And so when I left my wife and 3 little girls I was aware of the fact that some people weren’t going to come home, you know. And that was, that was tugging on me pretty heavily in kind of a hidden part of my awareness or in my heart, maybe in the pit of my stomach sort of a, kind of a sadness that this could be it.
On the other hand I was motivated to go and do what I was trained to do. I wanted to be a veteran of combat too, that was something I think that meant a lot to all of us was to have actually been there and done it. We were willing to take the chance that we would not come back just so that we could get into it, not to mention the patriotic and the fact that the cause was a just American cause and so that was my first sad or hard experience was leaving my family and all the time it took me to get from home to Vietnam it weighed heavy on me, you know, but I was going to miss them and possibly wouldn’t be able to get back to see them and loosing my good friend, my best friend also, you know.
Once I started flying missions, it was exciting and there wasn’t a lot of fear. It was being part of the team and doing my job and doing it as well as I could seemed to take the place of outright fear or endless worries about what if, what if.
I had a sad experience flying a mission out of, as we said, out of country in I think Laos one day, dropping on a bridge and I missed the bridge. The air craft controller who was an individual up there in another aircraft spotting the target and I had just done it poorly, even to my own standards and to his. I could tell he was frustrated with me because he was risking his life to try to get me to do something important in terms of the mission and it really hurt a lot. I realized that he was performing the same mission that my best friend had been performing when he died. I related the two that, you know, Ronald "Ron" Hamilton had died doing this kind of mission, could it have been because of somebody working with him that had done a poor job like I had just done. That he had risked himself for nothing so, that has always bothered me, it uh, it wasn’t uh near death experience, it wasn’t being, you know, blown up, it was just disappointing myself and somebody else in a situation where lives were at risk, sort of like I didn’t show up, you know, or I didn’t show up ready to fight and so that was, sadness.
"James Ruffer, father and fighter pilot of the Vietnam War"
me: Why did you decide to join the service?
James Ruffer: We had a war, Vietnam. I had been in college when the war started, the fighting started and I was patriotic and wanted to help the cause. I believed that if we didn’t stop communism in Vietnam and south East Asia that it’d spread to the Philippines and other places in that area just like we had the problem in Eastern Europe and with North Vietnam invading South Vietnam, so on. Pretty much believed that communism was out to do just what it said it was going to do and that was “bury us” and so that’s why I signed up.
me: Can you tell me a brief timeline of your years in the military?
James Ruffer: Well, I was born in the military. My dad was in the military, we were in a war when I was born. I lived through the rest of the Second World War and then the Korean War and then the Vietnam War started and so I joined up in 66’ and except for medical school I was back in the service again by 79’ and stayed in until I retired in 95’. So it’s like a 30 year period of military service with the exception of medical school but I don’t think I ever really left the military at any time in my life. I was fighting the Japanese and the Germans as a little boy and the North Koreans and there’s always a great alarm in America. There’s always great alarm, concern for the world and for the sake of freedom.
me: What was one experience you remember from war?
James Ruffer: Well, I remember leaving my wife and three little girls. I was looking forward to going over, flying Marine Corps fighter bombers, supporting the troops, close air support and interdiction and whatever else we were asked to do. So training was exciting and we were all military men and there was no conflict of interest, we were simply all in it together.
Didn’t really know much about… didn’t pay to much attention to what was going on in society, so I missed that era of the hippies and the anti-war on college campuses but when I left in August of 69’ my best friend had just preceded me over and he was an Aviator also and before I even left he had been killed. And so when I left my wife and 3 little girls I was aware of the fact that some people weren’t going to come home, you know. And that was, that was tugging on me pretty heavily in kind of a hidden part of my awareness or in my heart, maybe in the pit of my stomach sort of a, kind of a sadness that this could be it.
On the other hand I was motivated to go and do what I was trained to do. I wanted to be a veteran of combat too, that was something I think that meant a lot to all of us was to have actually been there and done it. We were willing to take the chance that we would not come back just so that we could get into it, not to mention the patriotic and the fact that the cause was a just American cause and so that was my first sad or hard experience was leaving my family and all the time it took me to get from home to Vietnam it weighed heavy on me, you know, but I was going to miss them and possibly wouldn’t be able to get back to see them and loosing my good friend, my best friend also, you know.
Once I started flying missions, it was exciting and there wasn’t a lot of fear. It was being part of the team and doing my job and doing it as well as I could seemed to take the place of outright fear or endless worries about what if, what if.
I had a sad experience flying a mission out of, as we said, out of country in I think Laos one day, dropping on a bridge and I missed the bridge. The air craft controller who was an individual up there in another aircraft spotting the target and I had just done it poorly, even to my own standards and to his. I could tell he was frustrated with me because he was risking his life to try to get me to do something important in terms of the mission and it really hurt a lot. I realized that he was performing the same mission that my best friend had been performing when he died. I related the two that, you know, Ronald "Ron" Hamilton had died doing this kind of mission, could it have been because of somebody working with him that had done a poor job like I had just done. That he had risked himself for nothing so, that has always bothered me, it uh, it wasn’t uh near death experience, it wasn’t being, you know, blown up, it was just disappointing myself and somebody else in a situation where lives were at risk, sort of like I didn’t show up, you know, or I didn’t show up ready to fight and so that was, sadness.
Learning to Love You More
I've recently discovered a treasure of an artist, an artist who I dare say, is one of the great artists of our time, an artist creating works that are meaningful and powerful, I'm not even quite sure what kind of art she creates... like it's technical name but maybe it's very well because it's certainly heart felt. Her name, Miranda July.
I happened upon her project titled, "Learning to Love You More" in which she had an open invite to any and all people that wished to contribute to her creative assigments. Over the course of 9 years, thousands of entries were submitted from people across the globe and from all walks of life.
I think the beauty of her project "Learning to Love You More" not only helps one to discover something special and hidden within oneself but sharing and discovering the world with others, there lay the treasure. Viewing over the submitted assignments I can't tell you how often I ended in tears, not sad tears but happy ones, feeling the world growing smaller and feeling not so much of a stranger but as a kindred friend to many... realizing how similar our hearts beat.
I was somewhat disheartened when I realized the project had run it's course and was no longer accepting entries but then decided, why not accomplish all 70 assignments regardless... a personal journey of some kind. Brilliant!
And so I begin this journey, selecting assignments to explore, experience and hopefully grow from. I encourage anybody reading this entry to do the same, I'd love to share assigment entries with you.
Her website is www.mirandajuly.com, a password is needed but rest assure, the secret already exists within.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Man On Wire
The best films have to be about the human experience, the human spirit and Man On Wire is just that, a beautiful film.
Life should be lived on the edge,
see everyday as a true challenge
and then you live your life on the tightrope.
- Philippe Petit
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Rudolf Nureyev
My last visit to the library, I walked away with a biography of the Russian ballet dancer, Rudolf Nureyev. Having only read a few chapters so far, all I can say is... Passion.
I'm convinced, if people are laughing while you follow your dream, it's a good sign, ask all the greats.
I'm convinced, if people are laughing while you follow your dream, it's a good sign, ask all the greats.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
What the World Needs Now
Just read this article and this is exactly what our world desperately needs. What a brilliant example and standard this man has set, coming together rather than dividing, this is how Zion is built.
It was the kind of meeting that is taking place in restaurant kitchens, small offices, retail storerooms, and large auditoriums all over this city, all over this state, all over this country.
Paul Levy, the guy who runs Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, was standing in Sherman Auditorium the other day, before some of the very people to whom he might soon be sending pink slips.
In the days before the meeting, Levy had been walking around the hospital, noticing little things.
He stood at the nurses' stations, watching the transporters, the people who push the patients around in wheelchairs. He saw them talk to the patients, put them at ease, make them laugh. He saw that the people who push the wheelchairs were practicing medicine.
He noticed the same when he poked his head into the rooms and watched as the people who deliver the food chatted up the patients and their families.
He watched the people who polish the corridors, who strip the sheets, who empty the trash cans, and he realized that a lot of them are immigrants, many of them had second jobs, most of them were just scraping by.
And so Paul Levy had all this bouncing around his brain the other day when he stood in Sherman Auditorium.
He looked out into a sea of people and recognized faces: technicians, secretaries, administrators, therapists, nurses, the people who are the heart and soul of any hospital. People who knew that Beth Israel had hired about a quarter of its 8,000 staff over the last six years and that the chances that they could all keep their jobs and benefits in an economy in freefall ranged between slim and none.
"I want to run an idea by you that I think is important, and I'd like to get your reaction to it," Levy began. "I'd like to do what we can to protect the lower-wage earners - the transporters, the housekeepers, the food service people. A lot of these people work really hard, and I don't want to put an additional burden on them.
"Now, if we protect these workers, it means the rest of us will have to make a bigger sacrifice," he continued. "It means that others will have to give up more of their salary or benefits."
He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when Sherman Auditorium erupted in applause. Thunderous, heartfelt, sustained applause.
Paul Levy stood there and felt the sheer power of it all rush over him, like a wave. His eyes welled and his throat tightened so much that he didn't think he could go on.
When the applause subsided, he did go on, telling the workers at Beth Israel, the people who make a hospital go, that he wanted their ideas.
The lump had barely left his throat when Paul Levy started getting e-mails.
The consensus was that the workers don't want anyone to get laid off and are willing to give up pay and benefits to make sure no one does. A nurse said her floor voted unanimously to forgo a 3 percent raise. A guy in finance who got laid off from his last job at a hospital in Rhode Island suggested working one less day a week. Another nurse said she was willing to give up some vacation and sick time. A respiratory therapist suggested eliminating bonuses.
"I'm getting about a hundred messages per hour," Levy said yesterday, shaking his head.
Paul Levy is onto something. People are worried about the next paycheck, because they're only a few paychecks away from not being able to pay the mortgage or the rent.
But a lot of them realize that everybody's in the same boat and that their boat doesn't rise because someone else's sinks.
Paul Levy is trying something revolutionary, radical, maybe even impossible: He is trying to convince the people who work for him that the E in CEO can sometimes stand for empathy.
- Kevin Cullen, Globe columnist cullen@globe.com
It was the kind of meeting that is taking place in restaurant kitchens, small offices, retail storerooms, and large auditoriums all over this city, all over this state, all over this country.
Paul Levy, the guy who runs Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, was standing in Sherman Auditorium the other day, before some of the very people to whom he might soon be sending pink slips.
In the days before the meeting, Levy had been walking around the hospital, noticing little things.
He stood at the nurses' stations, watching the transporters, the people who push the patients around in wheelchairs. He saw them talk to the patients, put them at ease, make them laugh. He saw that the people who push the wheelchairs were practicing medicine.
He noticed the same when he poked his head into the rooms and watched as the people who deliver the food chatted up the patients and their families.
He watched the people who polish the corridors, who strip the sheets, who empty the trash cans, and he realized that a lot of them are immigrants, many of them had second jobs, most of them were just scraping by.
And so Paul Levy had all this bouncing around his brain the other day when he stood in Sherman Auditorium.
He looked out into a sea of people and recognized faces: technicians, secretaries, administrators, therapists, nurses, the people who are the heart and soul of any hospital. People who knew that Beth Israel had hired about a quarter of its 8,000 staff over the last six years and that the chances that they could all keep their jobs and benefits in an economy in freefall ranged between slim and none.
"I want to run an idea by you that I think is important, and I'd like to get your reaction to it," Levy began. "I'd like to do what we can to protect the lower-wage earners - the transporters, the housekeepers, the food service people. A lot of these people work really hard, and I don't want to put an additional burden on them.
"Now, if we protect these workers, it means the rest of us will have to make a bigger sacrifice," he continued. "It means that others will have to give up more of their salary or benefits."
He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when Sherman Auditorium erupted in applause. Thunderous, heartfelt, sustained applause.
Paul Levy stood there and felt the sheer power of it all rush over him, like a wave. His eyes welled and his throat tightened so much that he didn't think he could go on.
When the applause subsided, he did go on, telling the workers at Beth Israel, the people who make a hospital go, that he wanted their ideas.
The lump had barely left his throat when Paul Levy started getting e-mails.
The consensus was that the workers don't want anyone to get laid off and are willing to give up pay and benefits to make sure no one does. A nurse said her floor voted unanimously to forgo a 3 percent raise. A guy in finance who got laid off from his last job at a hospital in Rhode Island suggested working one less day a week. Another nurse said she was willing to give up some vacation and sick time. A respiratory therapist suggested eliminating bonuses.
"I'm getting about a hundred messages per hour," Levy said yesterday, shaking his head.
Paul Levy is onto something. People are worried about the next paycheck, because they're only a few paychecks away from not being able to pay the mortgage or the rent.
But a lot of them realize that everybody's in the same boat and that their boat doesn't rise because someone else's sinks.
Paul Levy is trying something revolutionary, radical, maybe even impossible: He is trying to convince the people who work for him that the E in CEO can sometimes stand for empathy.
- Kevin Cullen, Globe columnist cullen@globe.com
Saturday, March 7, 2009
a camera with no name
Stopped by Deseret Industries this past week, hoping to find something special, and behold, in their secured glass display case was percisely what I was hoping for, what appeared to be a 35mm holga like camera for 4 bucks. I was so excited. It's pretty basic, no focusing, 4 apertures 6, 8, 11, 16 and a hot shoe for a flash. Here's a self-portrait from the very first roll of film I shot on my new no name camera.
Then I thought to take my chances in the record department. I've been wanting a copy of Madame Butterfly and again, I struck gold, a gorgeous instrumental recording for 25 cents. I've been listening to it pretty much non-stop the past few days. The following piece is Un bel di vedremo. About 3.5 minutes in and you'll feel it, makes your heart sink in and explode at the same time.
Then I thought to take my chances in the record department. I've been wanting a copy of Madame Butterfly and again, I struck gold, a gorgeous instrumental recording for 25 cents. I've been listening to it pretty much non-stop the past few days. The following piece is Un bel di vedremo. About 3.5 minutes in and you'll feel it, makes your heart sink in and explode at the same time.
Once
One of the great things about low budget films is, they feel true. When I watched Once for the first time, nothing about it felt contrived or even created, it had all the vunerability we humans have. This video montage is b.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Iconoclasts
One of my favorite shows to watch is Sundance's Iconoclasts. It's a real pleasure to see a bit into the worlds of people I admire and respect, their philosophies, hopes, the things they hold close.
I love what Eddie Vedder said about music and it's affect on the passage of time, I think we all can attest to this, it's what makes music as amazing at is.
I love what Eddie Vedder said about music and it's affect on the passage of time, I think we all can attest to this, it's what makes music as amazing at is.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Marianne
"What is it that you think about, Sleeping Beauty, as you ride along the country lanes on that skinny mare of yours? And not so much of a beauty either, come to think of it. Too skinny, too pale, too dull. Not a glimmer of sparkle in those big dark eyes. Still, I do wonder, when you're riding past the hedges, little dreaming you are watched, I wonder what exactly it is you go out for. What sort of things are going through your mind? You look straight ahead, far into the distance and I wonder, do your thoughts travel that far too, or do they stay close to home, wrapped up in yourself?"
"So ran the silent thoughts of Pierre Andre as he watched Marianne Chevreuse slow her horse to a walking pace. Passing under the walnut trees and reaching the river, horse and rider broke into a trot and, at a bend near some boulders, disappeared out of sight."
Read the book Marianne while riding the bus across town today, could not attempt to write words deserving and so I leave it to Flaubert who wrote these words to George Sand -
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart, chere maitre. Thanks to you I have just spent the most exquisite day. Marianne moved me deeply and two or three times I found myself weeping. I saw a lot of myself in Pierre and some pages could have been excerpts from my own memoirs if I had talent enough to write like that. It's so charming and poetic and true. You see how happy you have made me? But then you've never done me anything but good and I love you most tenderly..."
I came upon George while watching the movie Children of the Century. I adored hearing the words shared between two lovers, particularly being the beautiful authors George Sand and Alfred de Musset.
"So ran the silent thoughts of Pierre Andre as he watched Marianne Chevreuse slow her horse to a walking pace. Passing under the walnut trees and reaching the river, horse and rider broke into a trot and, at a bend near some boulders, disappeared out of sight."
Read the book Marianne while riding the bus across town today, could not attempt to write words deserving and so I leave it to Flaubert who wrote these words to George Sand -
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart, chere maitre. Thanks to you I have just spent the most exquisite day. Marianne moved me deeply and two or three times I found myself weeping. I saw a lot of myself in Pierre and some pages could have been excerpts from my own memoirs if I had talent enough to write like that. It's so charming and poetic and true. You see how happy you have made me? But then you've never done me anything but good and I love you most tenderly..."
I came upon George while watching the movie Children of the Century. I adored hearing the words shared between two lovers, particularly being the beautiful authors George Sand and Alfred de Musset.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Slumdog Millionaire
I watched Slumdog Millionaire today. I'd been admiring it's movie trailers and was so anxious to share what seemed a brilliant movie with someone very special to me, my father. As the opening credits appeared I had a sudden moment of panic, it occured to me there was a likely possibility that my dad wouldn't like it.
It's a running joke in our family, of dad walking out on movies, it's a joke only cause it's true with the likes of films such as James Bond, Memoirs of a Geisha and Shrek of all movies, yeah, he can be a tuff crowd!
I was totally bracing myself, anticipating the moment my dad would excuse himself, deciding whether I would follow suit or finish watching the film I originally was so excited to watch. I was trying to read his body language in reaction to the story unfolding, the music, the colors, the characters and then suddenly, the moment came when he crossed his arms, I was thinking to myself, what does that mean? Does that mean he disapproves, he's bored, he's just easing into his chair... I couldn't tell!
Finally, he leans over to tell me something, here it is, I'd prepared myself so there could be no surprises... and he says, "D." Hallelujah! It was a triumph indeed, my father's 3 year stint from the movie scene broken by the beautiful ingenuity of Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire.
At that moment, I knew we were home free and I could indulge in a story so worthy and so entirely needed, I couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. It was a wonderful film to have shared with my dad and a triumphant milestone for him as well. And so take it from the most critical of all movie critics... Slumdog Millionaire is a must see!!! Love you Dad!
It's a running joke in our family, of dad walking out on movies, it's a joke only cause it's true with the likes of films such as James Bond, Memoirs of a Geisha and Shrek of all movies, yeah, he can be a tuff crowd!
I was totally bracing myself, anticipating the moment my dad would excuse himself, deciding whether I would follow suit or finish watching the film I originally was so excited to watch. I was trying to read his body language in reaction to the story unfolding, the music, the colors, the characters and then suddenly, the moment came when he crossed his arms, I was thinking to myself, what does that mean? Does that mean he disapproves, he's bored, he's just easing into his chair... I couldn't tell!
Finally, he leans over to tell me something, here it is, I'd prepared myself so there could be no surprises... and he says, "D." Hallelujah! It was a triumph indeed, my father's 3 year stint from the movie scene broken by the beautiful ingenuity of Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire.
At that moment, I knew we were home free and I could indulge in a story so worthy and so entirely needed, I couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. It was a wonderful film to have shared with my dad and a triumphant milestone for him as well. And so take it from the most critical of all movie critics... Slumdog Millionaire is a must see!!! Love you Dad!
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