Go Ahead, Make Someone's Day

I met my mom and a friend of hers at the coffee shop inside the local Barnes & Noble over my lunch break. Her friend, Jan, was a very nice woman and it was good to have met her; my mom has talked about her in the past. Anyway, Jan gave me this flyer that I decided to share here on the blog in hopes of garnering the project a few votes. Here's what it said:

Dear Person Holding This:

A local short film ("Untitled for James" viewable on OpenFilm.com) has been entered into a national, online competition. If it receives enough online votes by the end of July (by Saturday night), it will go before a panel with James Caan and Robert Duvall, et al. The panel will then pick a winner and the winner receives funding to turn their short film into a feature length film.

Please take a moment to support the film by voting for it. All you need is an email to be able to vote.

Voting instructions:

Go to http://www.openfilm.com/join/.

After filling in a user ID, a password and an email, OpenFilm sends you a confirmation email. Go to your email account and click on the link in the Welcome email they have sent you to activate your account.

Then simply log in using the account you have created, look up "Untitled for James" and give the film a favorable rating. THAT'S IT!

So that's it. Hopefully anyone who has ever been involved in trying to get a project through a contest like this will help out. Personally I'm not a big fan of contests, but in so many of the Arts that is one of the few viable ways to get more eyes on whatever one is working on. Unfortunate, yes, but part of the game for too many of us. Me, I'm a big fan of films, and it is something I'd like to do more of. I've dabbled, but it would be great to do things like homemade book trailers, or little documentaries, or anything cool and DIY-related. I enjoy it very much.

My mom lured me to lunch by telling me she had a present she wanted to give me. Present? I'm all in. When I arrived, she handed me this:

So now I am the proud owner of an e-Reader. I'm pretty blown away. Now I can personally see what all the fuss is about. I think I'll get it all set up, then order Savages by Don Winslow to test it out with. I'll be sure to report back.

Thanks, Mom!

It's the End of an Era

I got irritated and annoyed one time too many yesterday, and took action. This:

Had to go to make room for this:

I haven't had short hair for, I don't know, five years or so, at least. I don't feel emasculated yet, but I haven't been back to the weight room either. Watch me have to take a few plates off the bar.

My barber said it made me look younger. Who knows. I'll just have to find something new to complain about now.

Change Often Sucks

Summer's end is in sight, at least as far as summer vacation for my kid is concerned. He's been trying to get a job all summer, but hasn't been successful. I think part of the problem is that a lot of the typical "summer jobs" around town are currently filled by adults who lost their jobs in other industries. That sucks for everybody. Missoula, and Montana, certainly isn't alone in this. Joblessness is the current plague in the USA, and I know plenty of people -- smart, productive people -- who are out of work. Hell, even my hours have been reduced all year, but not drastically. Julia's too; her day job is finding jobs for other people, and they just aren't out there. Sid interviewed last week at Muse Comics, and I hope he gets the gig. That would be a cool job since it's not only close to home, but it's also close to where he goes to school. Plus he needs the money. I dropped $90 to replace broken drum heads last week -- the punk needs to generate his own income!

We were out at my folks' place a couple weekends ago, and I was thinking about my own teenage employment. Back in the day, during summers kids of my generation could count on work bucking bales, changing sprinkler pipes, flood irrigating, etc. I did that kind of stuff for three or four summers. Nowadays, you don't even see bales like this out in hay fields anymore; farmers are putting it up in those big round bread loaf-looking things, and kids aren't out sweating in the heat like we used to, wearing long sleeves to avoid scratches, and heaving bales of hay sometimes ten feet -- or higher -- into the air to the top of a stack being built on the deck of a moving trailer.

I learned how to work, and work hard, doing this kind of labor. I learned how to drive a tractor. I got strong during the summer. I got up early. Lunch breaks became a thing to look forward to for a reason other than boredom. I learned what it was like to chew tobacco (hated it) and had my first beer handed to me (hated that too; I didn't start drinking beer really until I was in my 30s) by the older ranch hands that would oversee our work. But it was still a rite of passage that most of the guys of my generation and locale went through, and I think it was a good thing. That opportunity just doesn't exist for Sid and his friends, at least around here, and I wish that isn't the case.

Julia and I were talking yesterday about how the whole agricultural bent of rural areas has changed. Is every other girl still obsessed with horses? I don't know. Driving by pastures with a handful of them grazing -- horses, that is, not teenage girls -- we wondered who was riding them anymore. Horses can be purchased for dirt cheap these days because people can't get keep them, or get rid of them, due to cost of ownership. When they aren't being abandoned to starvation, that is. 4H isn't as popular as it used to be. Fewer families have gardens and livestock, things like that. However, can that change? As work gets harder and harder to find, as the economy continues to stutter and stagger, will more people get back to these old practices out of necessity, just to provide food for the table that they aren't buying at the grocery store? Personally, I don't think of that as a step in the wrong direction.

This is a picture I found online of the Smurfit-Stone Container mill between Frenchtown and Missoula. Frenchtown is where I went to school K-12. My dad worked at the mill, which existed under various owners, for something like 44 years. He retired last winter when the company, currently in bankruptcy, shut the damn thing down. No, the place wasn't pretty, pulp and paper mills never are, and yeah it made the air in the valley a little ripe sometimes. Yes, I think my views from the top of Mount Sentinel are better now without the haze from all the clouds of steam belching from its various pipes. But the mill was a backbone of the economy here, employed people in the hundreds, and raised a lot of friggin' kids -- including me. That mill provided a good life to my parents, and to me and my sisters. I hated to see it go, especially for the guys too young to retire, but too old to really start over. That is a grim situation to be in.

We took "the scenic route" from Missoula to Frenchtown the last time we went to my parents' house, which took us right by the mill. I hadn't been up so close to it since it shut down. It's freaky to see it like this, when for my entire life it was always a bustling place of activity. As a kid there was always someone waving at me as I drove by, thinking it was my dad behind the wheel of whatever old van or pickup I was driving. Now it's dead and quiet. The fence out front is hung with hard hats, and that image was surprisingly poignant.

The ranch I worked for used to own the fields all around the mill. Who knows, maybe they still do, though I don't know that that ranch exists as a going concern anymore either, for that matter. I spent a summer flood irrigating those fields, and hauling the hay that grew out of them in the form of big, smelly bales. At a couple transitory moments of my life I considered trying to get on at the mill, but never pursued it. I'm glad I didn't. But I can't deny the impact the place had on my life, and still does, because whenever my dad buys me a greasy breakfast, or slips Sid and I a $50 bill after shoveling snow off their roof in the winter, that mill was the provider. I'm sad to see its corpse every time I drive by it. The demise of good manufacturing jobs for people who are of proud blue collar stock really friggin' sucks.

It's like that all over the country, everywhere I go. It is a disturbing trend, no doubt about it.

The Big Picture

Boston.com has this section of their website called The Big Picture that has just some phenomenal photography. I stumbled across it during the World Cup.

Recently they had a collection from The Festival of San Fermin, 2010, in Spain. That's where they do the whole "running of the bulls" thing. Not all of the images are for the squeamish, but it's still fantastic photography. Here are a couple images (remember to click to see them bigger!):

The most recent collection is called Stormy Skies. Here are a couple of those images:

I could spend hours looking at this stuff. HERE is a list of everything that has been posted in July. I'm in awe of this art form.

Sunday, with Extra Sun

Yesterday we decided to set out and get some old fashioned recreation, something we probably don't do enough of with everything else going on in our lives. We are fortunate in that there are so many beautiful alternatives essentially right out our back door. For example, for starters we decided we'd get the canoe on the water for the first time this year. On the way, Julia insisted on taking a picture of this big, fat Quarter Horse.

It takes a while to drop off the canoe, take a vehicle down and leave it at the takeout point, then drive the other vehicle back to the put-in spot, but it's worth it. Where we decided to put in on the Bitterroot River is literally just five minutes from our house.

Then we were off and paddling and soaking up the rays from the tops of our heads to the tips of our toes.

I love being on the river. Even though there were many other people out on inner tubes, it was still relaxing and felt like a getaway. We had stretches all to ourselves as well.

Hey, there's a naked girl in the bow! And geese on the shore!

Well, she wasn't really naked, it just looks that way. Nor was she relying on the wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off her. She was well lathered in sunscreen.

This trip -- floating the Bitterroot until it joins the Clark Fork, then a little farther along -- really isn't a "wild" float. But it is a wild river, and it is exciting to see wildlife along the way. Birds zipping along just above the surface of the water. Herons along the shore, and osprey overhead. Sometimes fish jump. I love it all.

As always, click the pictures to see larger version. You'll be able to see the fawn in the lower right of this one that much better!

Then there are other types of wildlife, like teenagers at McClay Bridge thronging the shore and jumping off the bridge into the water. I've done that before, when I was young. I used to come out here sometimes with my cousin, Casey.

This is the first time we've seen one of these assholes on this river. This guy was going too fast, blew by some tubers, and left a wake that would have swamped us if we hadn't turned into it. Jackass. There was another power boat later, but that guy was at least respectful of the other people on the river.

After we got off the river and got home, I decided I wanted to hike up the M as well, even though it was still pretty damn hot out. Julia was game to give it a go; we didn't even bother to take the time to unload the canoe.

Before long we were at the base of the trail, headed up. That first, long switchback is always the most difficult for me, it seems.

The moon was in the sky, watching our progress.

Almost to the top!

Here's what the M looks like from the ground, in a picture taken earlier this year.

Here's what it looks like right up close!

There weren't that many other people on the trail, unlike on Friday when I climbed it.

The view from the top, and from points closer to the ground, was excellent as ever.

Hiking the M is more workout than pleasure stroll, but I still enjoy it. Like floating the river, it reminds me of how beautiful Missoula is, and how fortunate I am to live in this part of the country. At times in the past I know I've taken that for granted, but I sure hope I never do again!

Forgotten Books: The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

Several weeks ago during an email exchange Patti Abbott asked if I had ever read The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, as they were reading it currently in her book club. I said I had not, and she suggested that maybe I could read it and offer it up as a forgotten book. I was happy to oblige, and I'm glad I did so because this collection is an epic piece of writing. Maybe it's hard to classify as "forgotten" given that it was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and it really isn't even all that old considering it was first published in 1990. Nonetheless it is a book that should be kept in the reading public's consciousness, because it really has a lot to say.

The Things They Carried is a collection of short stories grouped together by a common theme: author Tim O'Brien's experiences as a soldier in Vietnam. All of the stories are centered on a single platoon of soldiers and deal with their circumstances both during the war and sometimes after. Some of the stories focus on the deaths of certain members of the platoon, as well as how these deaths weigh, in the aftermath, on the survivors. The stories are powerful; at times hilarious, but often heartbreakingly sad. The opening story, which carries the collection's title, deals not only with the "stuff" the soldiers carry as part of their mission -- packs, weapons, assorted gear, etc. -- but also the little keepsakes from home. Pictures, letters, comic books, things like that. It is a compelling read. I suspect people who have never faced war, or known warriors, or even sought to educate themselves on the subject at all may find some of this information eye opening. I was fortunate to have a high school history teacher who spoke openly of his time in Vietnam, so while not a surprise, it was still compelling stuff. O'Brien's writing in this opening piece is particularly razor sharp.

Each piece is different, some offering narrative storytelling while others are essentially essays from O'Brien reflecting on the experience of being in war and how he feels as a writer sharing those experiences, and how the writing has helped him deal with his own role in that dark history. O'Brien writes beautifully, and each piece stands on its own even as the collection flows as well as any novel. The book is a worthy read if only to experience the work of a master craftsman, but it is also much more than that.

In "On the Rainy River" O'Brien tells the story of receiving a draft notice and heading north to Canada, stopping just shy of the border to spend the weekend in a cabin on a lake, his only companion the elderly caretaker. It is a poignant bit of writing, and outlines the struggle of a young man coming to grips with doing the right thing, when there is a "right" thing for himself and a "right" thing for how others in his family will be affected by his actions. It shows that there are no easy decisions to be made, and that sometimes what one may view as cowardice is really a form of steadfast courage. Brilliant stuff.

I read The Things They Carried over the 4th of July weekend, and wrote about it as I was reflecting on the holiday that night. As I wrote the other night, one of the most important things I took from this book is this:

It reminded me that we have been sending young men to die for dubious reasons for decades. It reminded me of the men and women -- Marines -- I saw when I was consulting on a project at Camp Lejeune, NC, a few years ago, and how amazingly, terribly young they looked. It reminded me of the horrible things these kids endure, and how so many are returned to society unprepared to deal with them, their lives irrevocably changed.

This book, and ones like it, should be required reading for students, right up there with the classics. I think it's important for young people to understand the toll paid by those who have come before, and I don't mean that in any jingoistic, "heroic" sense either. Every soldier who has died or been permanently scarred for dubious reasons in some bullshit war is a tragic story, and we all need to be reminded of that to ensure it doesn't continue to happen. These stories show there is no romance in war, and glory only comes hand-in-hand with tragedy. And just because a soldier returns home, it doesn't mean the war has loosened its grip. With so many itchy trigger fingers in the halls of power, it is important that we remember these facts.

Different people will take away different things from these stories, and that is part of the beauty. I think I will be recommending this book to people for the rest of my life, and that is saying something.

See a complete list of this week's other Forgotten Friday contributions over at Patti Abbott's blog. An excellent list, as always! You can also read Patti's review of the book right HERE.

Sharp Dressed Men Win Big

U.S. Soccer wins the ESPY for "Best Moment" from The Haptonstall Group on Vimeo.

One for the Bucket List

Everyone -- at least anyone with any imagination or enthusiasm for living -- has that list of things they'd like to do before they die. Stuff like, I don't know, ride an elephant. Go bungee jumping. Spend a debaucherous weekend with some b-list celebrity. You get the idea. Some are big, some are small. As for me, many are travel related, or tied to my creative interests. I want to spend a fair amount of time in Alaska before I pack it in. I want to get a book published. I want to put out at least one record on vinyl, that kind of thing. I try and keep my hopes to things that are actually doable, or could result directly to the amount of effort I put into making them happen (for example, getting a book published won't happen without me writing one)(another one, I mean; a publishable one).

I'm fascinated by the ocean, even though it freaks me out. Julia and I did a little sea kayaking a couple years ago and loved it; will certainly do more of that. A lot more. I've also always wanted to go on some kind of "major" voyage, but I don't know that I'm ready to do it on a small sailing boat, which in many ways seems the most adventurous way to do it. Nor am I that interested in traveling on some massive cruise ship; that seems the least adventurous of all. Last week I was able to find the happy medium.

Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard, a Man's Man

My "Early Fall 2010" catalog from Patagonia arrived in the mail. I'm a big fan of the company (and Patagonia the region is certainly one on my list of places to visit before I die!) and its founder, Yvon Chouinard, and always look forward to browsing through their catalogs because there are always cool articles and essays in them. I opened the front page, and the opening essay was one called "What Would Darwin Think?" by Kristine McDivitt Tompkins, and the accompanying picture was of a big sailing ship that took my breath away. The credit said it was of the "The 250-foot clipper ship, the Stad Amsterdam, at the foot of the El Brujo Glacier. Southern Chile. Photo: Doug Tompkins."

I showed it to Julia and told her that is the kind of ship I'd like to cruise around the ocean on. The first time I was in Boston the harbor was full of these tall ships as part of some celebration, and they were unbelievably cool. This ship stayed on my brain for a couple days, so I decided to look it up on line. Turns out the Stad Amsterdam has its own website, and it turns out you can take tours on it. Can you imagine how cool it would be to go to sea on this beauty?!

How about taking the 10 days photography & sailing voyage from Martinique trip? Yeah, it's expensive, but talk about something worth saving for! What a great trip that would be. Put this, or a similar trip, on my list!