A Happy Couch Potato

Though on occasion I lament the loss of my earlier-in-life habit of seeing most films for the first time in a theater, I'm not at all unhappy with how convenient it is nowadays to easily see recently released movies at home. What has been your ratio of movie theater vs. home viewing over the last two or three decades? I'd bet my daughter's ratio over her young lifetime is 1:5, at best. Contrast that with my estimated lifetime ratio of 3:2, even when taking into account the near-total shift in my habits over recent decades. 

But aside from the convenience of home viewing, the ease of discovering unsung gems like The Ballad of Wallis Island in our modern era makes yearning for a return to any good old days seem silly. Pre-1990 an unassuming jewel like this early 2025 release could have easily escaped my attention. Tiny cast - with just one marquee name, Carey Mulligan - no superheroes, car chases, explosions or noise, a simple story, simply told. If a movie like this makes it to the local megaplex, it usually lasts a week, at most. In my young adult life, you'd have had to search out this treasure at an "art" movie house. I sat on my couch, munchies nearby, fully immersed for over ninety minutes. 

What worthwhile film did you most recently uncover thanks to modern convenience?      

Today's Happy Dilemma

In my experience, being blown away by two novels in a row is fairly uncommon. When did this last happen to you?  

 

Heart the Lover (Lily King, 2025) and Trust (Hernan Diaz, 2022) are equally exceptional. The former has a slightly more conventional architecture than the latter. But King is Diaz's equal as a storyteller and prose stylist. Both novels are intelligent, emotionally rich, fresh; each held me from first page to last.

And therein lies today's happy dilemma. Which of the two do I recommend you tackle first? Ever since finishing Trust, I've spent some time reflecting on this. Let me give it a shot.

In the mood for love? Start with Heart the Lover. Historical sweep? Start with Trust. Characters who like to read like you? Heart the Lover. Characters powerful enough to shape public perception? Trust. Space? Heart the Lover. Density? Trust. 

Hope that helped. 

Key Learning: Year 76

Yesterday I looked forward by declaring a goal for my 77th year. Today's post looks back. Just as I have on every November 23 beginning in 2011, today I reflect on something the previous year - my 76th - has taught me. And just as with yesterday's post, I hope you'll join me. Birthday aside, what has been a key learning for you over this past year? If you can't find something that neatly fits that narrow parameter, why not go back to a key learning from two years ago, or three, or ten. I'm listening.  

Not long after visiting the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg South Africa, I made a conscious choice to begin modifying my habits in search of a balance that has long eluded me. Each time an experience like that museum - or a book, song, or film - reminded me of the importance of continually bearing witness, I resolved to find some ballast to help offset the despair that can often accompany those experiences. Beginning in mid-2024, I began noticing how this new practice was getting me within striking distance of that balance. My resolve was fortified. Over the past year +, this simple practice has now become a healthy reinforcing loop for me. 

For example, perhaps for the first time in my life, I've recently found myself able to more quickly recover when a book (e.g., Survival in Auschwitz), song (e.g., Strange Fruit), or film (e.g., I'm Still Here) has taken a significant emotional toll on me. My recovery strategy changes from situation to situation - sometimes meditation, a conversation with a soulmate who values bearing witness, maybe some humor (e.g., a funny book to follow the important but intense book) - but each strategy is aimed squarely at getting me back on my feet. 

Because, getting back on my feet is critical in maintaining a commitment to continually to bear witness. I must do this. If instead, I surrender and choose to not visit that disturbing museum, read that unsettling book, listen to that uncomfortable lyric, watch that upsetting film, doesn't that make me part of the problem? As a species, I believe our greatest hope to ensure the horrors of history are not forgotten, lest they be repeated, is choosing to bear witness, no matter the cost. We've all got so much work to do. I'm relieved to have learned over the last year + that there is hope in finding my balance.      

Goal for Year 77

Since the inception of my blog in 2011, on this day before my birthday each year I've announced here one or more goals I'm aiming to reach by my next birthday. I've also encouraged you to join me every year, birthday aside. There's significant research showing publicly declared goals are much more likely to be attained than those that are simply talked about idly with others. Although I've missed as often as I've hit, I'm pleased with my track record after fourteen consecutive years doing this. I hope you'll jump in this time.   

In my 77th year I will begin a project connected to my one-year-old grandson, modeled after the one I did for my daughter. Each year on/or near his birthday I will write a letter to him recalling important moments or events we've shared over the previous year, working from notes I'll make throughout the year about those moments or events. This is the same process I used starting with my daughter's eighth birthday and continuing through to her twenty-first. I'm starting his project today.  

I'll then save all of the letters to present to him as a book - with pictures, when applicable - on/near his sixteenth birthday in 2040. Thought about waiting until his twenty-first birthday - as I did when I presented my daughter's book to her in 2010 - but in 2045, I'll be ninety-six years old. I'm not that confident I'll remember. Even waiting until I'm ninety-one might be pushing my luck a little. Still, think I'll err on the optimistic side.

If you do jump in with me here, remember the SMART model for goals. Make a goal Specific, able to be Measured, include Action steps, make it Realistic, and include a Time frame. Doing those five things greatly increases your likelihood of success. Good luck.    

    

Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-Seven

"What the heart believes, the heart will see."

Think for a moment of someone you've loved - sibling, friend, parent - who loved another person that you felt, no matter the reason, was not good enough for them. Can you cite a song lyric more concise than the one above that captures the perpetual mystery of who people end up loving?  

Because all the members of Bryndle got a songwriting credit for On the Wind, figuring out exactly who should get the nod for this deeply wise, succinct phrase is tricky. But based on the stellar solo work Karla Bonoff has done since releasing her first album in 1977, and the fact that she sings the lead vocal on the tune, my bet is this tiny masterpiece of a song is mostly hers. No disrespect intended to her bandmates and co-composers - Kenny Edwards, Andrew Gold, Wendy Waldman; all big talents. And the other thirteen songs on the 1995 release called Bryndle are nearly as good.  

Back to the beginning. Re-read those eight words and think of your own experiences falling in love. Any parent, friend, sibling ever ask you what you saw in the person? Even if no one asked a similar question, did you ever get a sense that others had unspoken doubts? Re-read those words for the ages once more. See the answer? 

Judging and Joy

At almost seventy-six years old, it's safe to say my temperamental inclination to judge is not ever going to disappear completely. Which of your less noble traits can sometimes feel equally intractable?

Even with fitful progress, chipping away at this flaw has often felt like a part-time job. I fully recognize I'm the one most damaged by judging. But that insight often eludes me in the moment, especially when I'm triggered. For the last several years, whenever my instinctive judgaholic has temporarily taken over, I've been saying "Begin, again" to myself. I started doing this because I know the importance of self-forgiveness. It works, sometimes.    

It took an observation my wife recently made about my guitar playing to persuade me this lifelong battle remains one worth fighting. When she pointed out how my judging of my playing seemed to interfere with the joy I get from it, her words landed hard. The relationship between judging and joy is not one I recall previously considering. If you share this flaw of mine, have you considered this?  

Begin, again.  

A Gift That Lingers

"No tears for the writer, no tears for the reader." - Robert Frost

Over almost fifteen years and 2600 posts, I've tried to avoid cheap sentiment on this blog. At the same time, on days like today when I'm inclined to pay tribute to someone dear to me, it's hard to steer clear of emotionally charged memories. 

In every important respect, my father was my hero. Like everyone, he had his flaws; I inherited a few of his less noble traits. But the gifts he passed on - most significantly, his devotion to my mother and pride in all four of his children - far outweighed any of his shortcomings. 

Dad was a gifted carpenter. But from as early in life as I can remember, he continually told me he wanted me to use my "good brain" in whatever work I chose. That coaching may have contributed to my disinterest in working with my hands. It's equally possible my lack of aptitude for carpentry or any related field sent me in a different direction. Either way, I can't recall my dad ever acting disappointed in my choices, vocationally or otherwise. 

Instead, I remember his pride in me, including the pathetic shop projects I brought home from school. Even at ten or eleven years old, I knew how bad my work was; my shop teachers had given me some clear signals. Dad proudly displayed each of my disasters on our walls. On Veteran's Day, these sixty-five-year-old memories overtook me, a gift he gave me that lingers. 

Restored Via the Natural World

Early today, I nearly surrendered to my weariness. I'll spare you the self-pitying rationale. 

But as often happens, the natural world then helped rescue me from myself. While sitting in my car making a desultory journal entry, the warmth of the autumn sun washed over me. Through the windshield I noticed patches of clouds crossing the sky. The longer I stared at the movement of each unique cloud formation, the more restored I felt.

I then began writing what may eventually become song lyrics. It's equally possible that what I wrote may linger indefinitely in my notebook. In the end it doesn't matter because by the time I put down my pen and resumed staring at the clouds, my weariness had dissipated.

How I'd welcome hearing your story about the last time you were restored via any of the miracles the natural world delivers to us all every day.

My All-Star; Our National Treasure

While writing my book journal entry about Home (2012), I began reflecting on my journey with Toni Morrison's work. Which contemporary author has sustained you for the longest stretch of your life? 

Morrison's books have been critical to my development as a reader, a thinker, and social justice advocate for almost fifty years. I got hooked - as did many - by Song of Solomon (1977). Almost alone among contemporary authors, I've read many of her books twice. Tar Baby (1981)? Three times. She always challenges me and never lets me down. Which author's work has had a similar effect on you?

Before beginning this brief valentine to her, I decided to use Blogger's search engine to see how many times I've gushed about Morrison since the inception of my blog in March 2011. Although the number of mentions was fewer than I would've guessed, I was pleasantly surprised by two of my posts. The fitting title of the more recent - My Debt to a Great Writer - made me happy. That tribute was published two days after Morrison's death in May of 2019. The older one - published in 2012 - was gratifying for a different reason. After finishing Home, thirteen + years from first placing her, Toni Morrison's slot as a forward on my all-star basketball team of novelists remains secure. Which author has enchanted you for that long?  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Attention: Sports Fans

p.s. When (not if), I finish Love (2003) and A Mercy (2008) - the remaining two novels in Morrison's oeuvre I still haven't read - look for a post in my completism series.  

   

Counting Before Publishing

Whenever capturing a kernel in my blog notebook that has potential to later put me on my high horse as I compose a post, I frequently add an admonishment right alongside the kernel. Of late, the one that seems to work best is "Be careful, Pat".  Kind of a written equivalent of counting to ten before opening my mouth.

When e-mail first became popular, I recall once being instructed not to send anything written while angry or otherwise upset. It's possible that long-ago instruction prompted me to begin admonishing myself in my notebook. But even if there is no connection, being more deliberate before publishing 2600 blog posts has had some unintended and welcome consequences in my face-to-face interactions. I'm both more tactful and marginally less judgmental than I was fifteen years ago. 

Though no one is likely to mistake me for a Zen master, it's gratifying to feel myself growing. And my plan? Continue jotting down reminders to be careful. What strategies help you avoid that high horse?