Mountains Made Low

Seriously, what is wrong with me? I watch the kinds of movies that are designed to mess with people’s heads, and I gauge my satisfaction with them by how messed-with my head feels when I’m done. The more the better, as you’ve probably learned from other movies I’ve written about here and what I’ve written about them. Needless to say, I really enjoyed Memento.

Director Christopher Nolan’s 2000 film features actors Guy Pearce, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Joe Pantoliano in a bizarre, triangular relationship—not the normal lover’s triangle we’re used to seeing, but a strange dependency which is, at first, strange because we can’t be sure of what’s going on. As we learn what’s happening, though, the characters’ interactions become stranger yet.

Leonard Shelby (Pearce) is a man on a mission: He is out to avenge the rape/murder of his wife (portrayed, in flashbacks, by Jorja Fox). The complication is that he was also attacked when she was, and suffered a very specific kind of brain damage: he cannot make new memories. As soon as events are over, Leonard forgets them, and he doesn’t remember people from one time he meets them to the next.

Helping Leonard in his quest are Teddy (Pantoliano) and Natalie (Moss). Both Teddy and Natalie have reasons of their own for helping Leonard as they do, and it’s hard to keep track of what those reasons might be and whose side these two are actually on. To know how the story ends, just put the movie in: the story ends at the film’s beginning. But that would be an anticlimax if the narrative were straightforward.

With Memento the fun is not in the destination, but in the getting there. To that end, the narrative unfolds backwards. Not that Leonard, whom we follow through the film remembers it backwards—he doesn’t remember it at all. But with the tale told in reverse, we also don’t (can’t) remember what has happened before in the story. We’re meant to experience each new thing as Lenoard must: without the context of knowing what happened previously.

Of course, we recognize Teddy and Natalie from earlier in the movie (later in the story), but beyond that, the conceit holds pretty well. Leonard, after all, recognizes them, too, from the cache of polaroid photos he keeps about his person at all times. We see each new scene as Leonard must, not knowing how he got into that place or situation, and given that, most of Leonard’s reactions seem within the realm of reason, if tending toward the violent and paranoid side of things.

Who wouldn’t be paranoid, though?

Pearce’s performance as Leonard is solid; I don’t know how it would be possible to play such a role with any greater skill, given Leonard’s condition. But his performance is helped a bit by Moss’s and Pantoliano’s. Their characters are, though perceived differently by Leonard at different times, consistent within themselves throughout the film, and the roles are well-played; well-enough-played, in fact, that their consistency through inconsistent perception sneaks up. Pantoliano is likably slimy, and Moss is seductively calculating.

If you’re like me then, and enjoy having your head messed with (at least in the comfort and safety of the movies’ make-believe worlds), once again, you will probably enjoy Memento. If you think my head is already messed-with enough—that I’m wrong to enjoy this sort of thing—you definitely will not.

…as I begin writing. (In the USA’s Eastern Time Zone, anyway. 2009 starts arriving in about 4½ hours elsewhere, I’m pretty sure.)

Here’s what I intend to do with those hours:

1. Get some sleep.
2. Bake bread.
3. Make pizza dough, and assemble two pizzas; one for eating, one for freezing.
4. Make, and freeze, cookie dough (so I can pull 1 or 2 cookies’ worth out at a time).
5. Wash clothes from my trip, including brand-spankin’ new pajamas—so I can put on new pjs for the first sleep of the new year, after midnight.
6. Ring in 2009, with—what are fast becoming—my traditional holiday-season activities.

That’s it. Well, I may blog in there a bit, too. I’ve got a book (Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead) and a movie (Memento) to review, there’s a little more mental fallout from my Christmas excursion to Tennessee (mostly about the parents), and I’ve been thinking about some other things, too…but I haven’t felt particularly inspired to write the past couple of days. Look for the movie post for sure though—just in case I decide to watch Stranger than Fiction (the next Netflix entry) tomorrow night; can’t watch the new one if the old one hasn’t been written about, right?

Also watch for the first post here of 2009—resolutions based in reflection, you know the kind of thing—at 12:01 am EST on January 1 (you know: 21 hours, 23 minutes from now). And, yes, it’s already written and just waiting for the clock to get to the right time.

In the past couple of days, I’ve written a fair amount about my family’s Christmas celebration, and I’ve been thinking about my family a lot (the extended family, the immediate family I grew up in, my sister’s little family, and what I want in terms of family for the future). And I’ve found that I’ve been rethinking some things I’ve thought before about family, particularly kids.

So here are my new thoughts. I’m thinking that I’d like to have kids; it’s not a deal-breaker, either way, but I’d like to. I think I put myself down, a while ago, as having been “talked into” having kids because I was reacting against a number of different pressures in previous relationships, and I was running from all of that.

But here’s the thing. I love my niece and my nephew, and even though I see both the upside and the downside from my sister’s perspective (and the perspectives of many of my friends who have kids), I think I want that.

Another thing that crossed my mind is that, at my age, it can be difficult to meet women who don’t have kids—not impossible, but difficult. And I’ve had a problem, in the past, with the idea of “another man’s kids.” But that’s changing, too; I can see it. Particularly if those kids’ mom is the right woman.

Probably the biggest part of this change is watching my brother-in-law with my sister’s kids. Their biological father is not in the picture, and my brother-in-law is really great with them, and he gives them the dad that they haven’t really ever had—even when their father was around. He loves them, has made a commitment to them (in the wedding ceremony) when he made a commitment to my sister, and accepts them as his own children (his parents, too, treat these kids just like all of their other grandchildren). When I see them together, I think that I could do that, too, and shouldn’t let that possibility be an obstacle in my life, either.

So there it is. I guess this is just another part of getting to know myself, huh?

Back in the summer, when I was contemplating, then planning, then completing my return to Ohio, one of the things that weighed heaviest on my mind was the fact that my parents are now in their mid-60s and both my sister and I lived 7-8 hours away driving. Not that there’s really anything going on with them that means someone should be close, but my sister and I had talked several times during my one-year sojourn in the mountains about the fact that we didn’t like both of us being that far away.

Dad retired about four years ago. He did that at the time that my sister and her kids were living with him and Mom, and he became a full-time nanny. That was, anyway, how he described it, and spent a lot of time with those kids. When they moved away, and Mom and Dad moved into town, it was a major change for Dad, and it was hard on him. But they’ve made do because of Mom’s work—she’s been managing a Christian bookstore for about 5 years or so now (she was the Assistant Manager before that).

But that’s changing.

Mom’s store is closing, a casualty of the hard times in the economy generally and for this chain of bookstores in particular. She’s been offered an Assistant Manager job at another store in the chain, but she’s not sure she’s going to take it, or going to keep it for long if she does take it. She’s eligible for full Social Security benefits on her birthday in July.

And here’s the thing: if Mom and Dad are both retired, there’s nothing really keeping them where they are. And their grandkids are down here in Tennessee. I learned on Wednesday night from my sister that Mom and Dad are thinking about moving down here when their lease is up on their apartment this summer. And I talked a lot to Mom about it today. It makes sense. These kids have been a big part of Mom and Dad’s lives, and vice versa.

Mom said today that she was feeling a little guilty about it because she knows that being closer to them was part of my reason for moving back to Ohio this year. I said that it was, but that she shouldn’t worry about it because the reason wasn’t specifically so that I would be close to them, but that someone would. If they move down here, that task is just as accomplished. And I like my job, and I’m mostly content with my life right now (Mom remarked today that I’ve been happier the past few months than she’s seen me in a while; she’s right).

So I don’t know what will happen, but I made clear to Mom and Dad both today that they don’t need to worry about me in the equation. I’m convinced that, if Mom retires, moving down here will be the best thing that they could do. I’ll even help them move. It would be good for my parents, good for the kids, and my sister and brother-in-law would just have to cope (and it would be mostly good for them, too).

My niece was around when Mom and I were talking about this today, and she said, “If you move down here, Grandma, all we have to do is convince Uncle Mike to come here, too!” She’s a sweetheart, that’s for sure. But we’ll focus on Grandma and Grandpa for now.

I’m in Tennessee until Sunday. My sister and her family moved down here 2½ years ago, and for the foreseeable future, this is where we’ll “do” Christmas (they all came to my house in North Carolina last year, but now that I’m renting a 2-bedroom house and Mom and Dad are in a 2-bedroom apartment, they’re really the only ones with a house big enough for all of us—more on Mom and Dad’s situation soon, I’ve got a lot of stuff to catch up on, I guess that happens when I don’t blog for a few days and spend those days with my family instead…funny how that works).

Like I said, I left Fremont on Wednesday morning and made the 7+ hour trip down here, then spent a pleasant evening with my sister and her family. Dad was involved in the Christmas Eve festivities at their church in Ohio, so they couldn’t leave on Wednesday. Instead, they left at about 3 am on Thursday.

Christmas morning, the kids got up—my nephew was awake at 5:30, my niece being two years older and slightly more jaded about Christmas morning slept til 7:15. Neither kid, though, felt the need to wake up the grown-ups right away, even though my sister was asleep on the couch in the living room. The kids knew the deal. Early in the morning, they were allowed to open their presents from Santa; they had to wait for Grandma and Grandpa to open their presents from the family. So open their Santa presents, they did. Not waking any adults until my niece woke up my brother-in-law to help her take her American Girl doll out of the box.

I slept til about 8. Then we were all awake, the grown-ups began consuming prodigious amounts of coffee (we’d all been up until about 3), and we made breakfast. Mom and Dad arrived at about 10, raising the head-count in the house to 7. We ate breakfast, then opened family presents. The kids’ big present from their parents this year built on their big parents present from last year: last year they got the Wii, this year they got Rock Band (my brother-in-law is a drummer, so this is right up his alley, too, and he’s discovered that putting the drums on the hardest setting is a lot, but really not quite enough, like really playing the drums to the songs).

The rest of the day was spent reading Chirstmas books, playing Rock Band (of course!), napping, and seeing what can be made out of the Legos I gave my nephew. And there was Christmas dinner (early afternoon), which encouraged the napping even more.

Also encouraging the napping for me was the fact that they don’t really have winter here, so I was hit by a batch of unfamiliar allergens and my body took extreme and violent exception to something in the air. Hooray! (I antihistamined that into submission—it took til this afternoon, but I think it’s worked!)

Today was mostly a bum around the house kind of day for most of us, but my sister and brother-in-law were gone all day, hitting the after-Christmas sales, doing their shopping for his family, and looking for a new outfit for my sister for Sunday.

This evening, my brother-in-law’s parents and his niece (16) and nephew (14) arrived (that’s 11 bodies in the house in case you’ve lost track). We played a spirit game of Trivial Pursuit, with teams: the two grandmas were a team, my sister and brother-in-law were a team, my niece and I were a team, and my dad and my brother-in-law’s niece were a team. They don’t any of them really like playing Trivial Pursuit with me (except my niece when she’s on my team), just as they didn’t like playing Scrabble with me earlier in the day (is it my fault that I know that ab, ma, pi, and st are all words in the Scrabble dictionary?—my first move was to play amps directly above the word bait that my dad had played.

I surrendered the guest room to his parents (my folks bunk up with the kids when they visit—it’s like a giant slumber party), and the new kids got put on the couch and futon in the family room.

This is when I decided to escape. There would have been an air mattress it it for me, but I decided that it would probably be better for everyone’s sanity if I removed myself not only from the sleeping equation but also from the 11 people, two showers, 1 50-gallon hot water tank equation in the morning. So when everyone else was getting ready for bed, I booked a room in town, and when they all went to bed, I escaped.

I felt a little bad because I think my sister’s kids were afraid that I was leaving for real, but I reassured them, and I made sure that I left a bunch of my stuff at the house, bringing only the necessities with me to the motel.

There’s really nothing planned for tomorrow, but I’m going to go back over to the house and spend the day again. We’re all staying until Sunday because my sister’s family is becoming members of their church on Sunday morning, and for the kids this means getting baptized. This, to my parents especially, is obviously a big screaming deal. I was in trouble when I had originally planned to leave today. So I’m staying, too, leaving after church on Sunday to go home.

I’m enjoying the family time, for the most part, but this evening (about two hours worth so far) of being alone with the tv on for background noise, and being able to write a little bit in the blog has also been wonderful.

And I don’t think I explicitly mentioned it, but Shelby and I kicked butt at Trivial Pursuit!

I’m never going to make fun of my dad and the way he does Christmas ever again. At least, I won’t ever be mean about it ever again.

For years, it’s been a running joke in my family that Dad finds stuff laying around the house, thinks that someone else in the family would like to have it, and wraps it up. I’ve said before that my sister is a huge Christmas dork, and she comes by it naturally: Dad really likes the unwrapping presents part of Christmas, and he’ll wrap just about anything up for unwrapping on Christmas morning. (He has yet, however, to wrap up a Jello mold or a cat; this year, though, he did wrap the wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey for my niece and nephew—they wanted to do the wishbone thing on Thanksgiving, but of course the wishbone was still fresh, and not ready to be wished on yet, so Dad saved it and wrapped it for them for Christmas.)

This year, though, one of Dad’s “around the house” gift ideas, apparently took on a bit of a life of its own, and turned into the best gift ever! And there’s some backstory.

My great-grandfather, Mom’s mom’s dad, served in the United States Navy many, many years ago—think Spanish-American War many years ago. Dating from about that time (though a little later) he had a 48-star American flag (post 1912), that was passed down to my grandma, and then my mom. In the minor acrimony that had surrounded my grandparents’ estates, I never knew that Mom had walked away with this flag. I didn’t even know it existed.

Mom found it in one of her dresser drawers at some point earlier this year and Mom and Dad both thought that I’d like to have it. This is where the story takes on a bit of a life of its own.

They decided to have it cleaned and folded. When Dad took it to the cleaners and asked how much it would cost to clean this 80-100 year-old flag, they cleaners told him that they never charge for cleaning a flag. And though Dad had lined up an local Eagle Scout to fold it for him, it came back from the cleaners already perfectly folded—only blue field and white stars visible, no white stripes and no red at all.

Additionally, Dad had ordered a display case made for this flag. A cherry-wood box with a glass front. That was what I unwrapped on Christmas morning.

I’m not an overly emotional kind of person, usually. But I almost cried, when I opened the gift and they told me where the flag came from. I really wished it had been the last package I unwrapped, because while I really appreciate the thought that went into all my other gifts and the sentiment behind them, after the flag, everything else was sort of an anti-climax.

I was stunned, shocked, speechless, and near tears; I don’t remember the last time that happened to me.

You might have guessed that the blog hiatus has been in honor of the Christmas holiday. Well, not exactly in honor of the holiday itself, but as an attendant necessity due to the hustle’n'bustle that surrounds the holiday. I left on Wednesday morning, and spent the better part of the day driving, but then spent a pleasant evening with my sister, my brother-in-law, and their kids (I got to their house first). We all went to the gym, we ate a little supper, we went to 11pm church, and—when the kids went to bed—the grown-ups did the grown-up Christmas Eve thing: making sure that everything was completely ready for Santa’s arrival, wrapping last-minute (okay, all) the “Uncle Mike” presents, and drinking beer.

It’s been a parade of different family members since then, and I’ve currently escaped the madhouse, to the seclusion and “me time” of the Best Western. I think it will do well for everyone’s sanity in the long-run if I stay here tonight and tomorrow night—my own definitely, but I’ve done what little bit I can for everyone else’s, too. I’ll say more about the madhouse and staying til Sunday very soon.