A Day at the Beach

A couple of months ago while watching TMC I saw a promo about the 40th anniversary of the release of Jaws. It stated Jaws was being shown in theaters across the country on June 21st and 24th. That piqued my interest because I love Jaws and Jaws 2 and watch them whenever they are shown on TV. I knew I wanted to go but didn't know if anyone else would be interested. I've started going to the movies by myself in the last year because the people in my life are busy. I figured since I love going to the movies I may as well go alone. I wasn't afraid to go alone, it just had always seemed like an activity that was more fun if shared with someone. But I enjoyed my first solo outing which included a lunch of Korean spicy beef soup after the movie. When I got home I told my mom that I had enjoyed myself, I was a good date and got to pick the movie and where I had lunch.

Why my fascination with Jaws? For me it isn't about the shark. It's the setting of the movie, the landscape, the technicolor, the CinemaScope (look it up) the characters, the dialogue and a glimpse into a simpler, less complicated time (well, except for hippies, drugs, assassinations, the Vietnam war, the economy, protest marches, the civil rights movement to name a few). But I had watched those events on the nightly news and living in a small town I was insulated from the impact of the turmoil happening in the world. I was in my twenties in the seventies and have fond memories of those years.

Strangely, I didn't see Jaws when it first came out. At the time there were constant news stories about people fainting in the theaters or people being left in a catatonic state. It seems silly now but I was afraid to go. Funny that I went to see The Exorcist, Carrie and Halloween. I guess I didn't really believe in supernatural stuff but the thought of a shark appearing while I was playing in the surf seemed possible.

As the date for the Jaws viewing got closer I was starting to chicken out. I thought it would be packed with young kids and teenagers since school is out. I probably wouldn't have gone except that I realized I had a hair appointment scheduled two hours before the movie started and the theater is only a few blocks from my hair salon. It was fate.

At my hair appointment that day I was telling my hairdresser about going to the movie and she gave me a kind of quizzical look. People generally have a reaction somewhere between eww and ugh when I speak fondly of Jaws. I told her I was leery about going because I thought there would be a lot of young people. She looked at me and said, "I don't think so." I realized she was right, they probably wouldn't be interested.

I arrived at the mall with time to spare and bought my ticket. I bought a coffee at Starbucks and sat down in front of the theater entrance. As I sat waiting I saw my cousin walking by and waved him down. He takes walks at the mall. We sat and talked for a while. He said he had never seen the movie but read the book. We spoke for a while then I looked at my cell, it was 1:50, ten minutes before show time. I stood up said my goodbyes and took the escalator to the theater.

I was directed to theater 16. As I entered I noticed most of the people in the sparsely-filled seats were around my age. There were a few younger people and maybe a child or two. I didn't see any teenagers. Their bad.

The lights dimmed then darkness. The screen filled with color and soon the familiar ominous sequence of notes that generate terror to anyone who has ever seen the movie. Da-Dum...Da-Dum...Da-DumDa-DumDa-Dum. I was in heaven, I think I actually smiled. There is nothing like seeing a film on the big screen.

I watched as if seeing it for the first time. There were scenes I didn't recognize and dialogue I didn't recall. I felt like it was 1975 and this was the first showing. The audience was with me as they gasped with fear at shocking scenes or laughed with delight at the interplay of characters.

I got a kick out of watching the chief type his report of the shark attack on a typewriter. Mostly everyone in the film smoked, that's how it was then. And of course there was a little weed passed around by teenagers at a beach party, it was 1975 after all. At one point they couldn't reach someone because there was no phone. We're talking land lines of course.

Despite the intentional horror of the movie there are other elements such as the heart-rending scene in which the mother of the child killed by the shark slaps the chief for not warning people of the first attack. The chief knows he did advise the town officials but he feels responsible anyway. There is the touching scene at the dinner table when the chief's youngest child mimics his every move. The chief asks the boy to "give us a kiss," the boy asks, "why?" The chief says, "cause I need it." The poignancy in the voice of Shark killer Quint as he tells the story of the lives lost during the sinking of the USS Indianapolis.

But most enjoyable for me are the many funny moments in a film described as horror/thriller. Quint had an arrogant attitude with a flippant delivery. He would launch into a verse of Spanish Ladies as his way to dismiss the incompetency around him. He sang "Here's to swimmin' with bow-legged women."

Chief Brody had a couple of memorable lines. After the great white almost overturns the boat carrying the shark-hunting threesome, he says, "You're gonna need a bigger boat." When he is trying to shoot the tank in the shark's mouth he says, "Smile you son of a bitch."

But my favorite is Richard Dreyfuss. As oceanographer Matt Hooper his acerbic one liners add a light and witty touch to a scary and sometimes gruesome film. Upon his arrival there are some men in a small boat who are going after the shark. The chief asks Hooper to tell the men to get out of the boat because it's overloaded. When Hooper relays Brody's message they basically tell him to buzz off. He turns away and says, "ha ha ha, they're all gonna die." Later when the chief and his deputy are discussing how to handle the carloads of men coming to kill the shark after a reward was offered Hooper says, " 'Scuse me. You know those eight guys in the fantail launch out there? Well, none of 'em are gonna get out of the harbor alive."

Brody and Hooper both attempt to get the town mayor to close the beaches but he is adamant about keeping them open. It is the 4th of July weekend and the town relies on tourist money generated in the summer months in order to keep the town going during the off season. After a few tries at convincing the mayor Hooper turns away frustrated. He says, "I'm not going to waste my time arguing with a man who's lining up to be a hot lunch."

During the showing I saw a young woman running to the exit. It crossed my mind that she was running because she didn't want to miss any of the movie. She came back in a few minutes, empty handed, running back to her seat. I guessed she went to the restroom but I think I was right about her not wanting to miss any of the movie.

One scene began at the beach with an obese woman in a bathing suit walking to the water. Someone in the audience snickered. Fat is the one thing about which people don't feel the need to be politically correct. Well, at least only one person laughed.

When the movie ended the audience clapped, myself included. I'd always wanted to clap at the end of a movie but didn't want to be the only one. The credits began to roll and no one got up to leave. Near the end of the credits a few people got up but it wasn't until the screen faded to black and the theater lights came on that the rest of us stood up. What is it about this movie? I've tried to explain why I like it so much but I was glad to find out that I am not the only one.

I noticed in the TV listings that Jaws is showing this weekend. Yeah, you guessed I am recording it.

A Bee in my Easter Bonnet

I got home from Weight Watchers, poured myself a cup of coffee and told my mom I was going outside to commune with nature.  Switching on the fountain, I sat down to enjoy the delicious tranquility of my backyard.  Wisteria plants are in full bloom; wrapping around the patio post and covering the trellis behind the fountain.  The profusion of purple blossoms is a treat to both the visual and olfactory senses.  Unfortunately the bees are attracted as well.

For a couple of years we have seen huge black bees, some the size of a small walnut, darting across the yard plant to plant, the patio becoming the center of their flight path.  We assumed they were bumblebees but after a little research it appears they are Carpenter bees.  If that is true the males do not sting.  That is a bit of a relief but I am still not comfortable with them zooming by interrupting my Zen moment.  According to Google, they burrow into wood but do not eat it like a termite does.  That is also good to know.

Before I went outside, I told my mom I hoped the bees would leave me alone.  I came in a few minutes later explaining that the bees were out and flitting around wildly.  She said, “I was going to ask if the bees won.”

“They won,” I said.

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My weight stayed the same this week and of course I was disappointed at first.  I only needed to lose six tenths of a pound to reach my fifteen-pound mark.  Then I realized that staying the same exact weight is not an easy task since the scale weighs to a tenth of a pound.  That is crazy.  I followed the plan, actually not using all my points each day and I wore a different top at weigh in.  I normally wear the same pants and top each week but the tee I wear was in the wash.  I also went on a hike with my cancer support group.  There are so many variables and yet my weight stayed exactly the same.  That almost seems physically impossible.

I am trying really hard not to get discouraged by my extremely slow weight loss.  I have complained about it so much I am sure people are tired of listening to me.  I am going to accept it and continue to move forward.  There is no choice; I need to eat healthy to stay healthy.  That is the most important part of this effort.  I am also tired of people pointing out that it is harder to lose weight as we age.  I get it; I am not a spring chicken anymore.  But you know other than a few aches and pains, I still feel like a spring chicken. 

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Happy Easter!

Deck the Halls

Thanksgiving has passed and the house is now decorated for Christmas with the exception of the tree which is on the side of the house waiting for a stand to miraculously materialize.  I began the yuletide decorating on Black Friday while others were out looting and pillaging.  I didn’t get to decorate last year because the hall bathroom flooded and the house was a disaster.  We didn’t have a tree either which I believe was a first.  My son and my cousin got most of the bins down on Thanksgiving Day after I asked if they had heard of the “will work for food” concept.

Over the last forty years I have amassed at least eight bins of Christmas trimmings.  There are the many different stockings I have hung by the chimney with care for my son including First Christmas, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and for the last few years a sports-themed stocking.  I also have the ornaments I purchased each year for my son.  We have the handmade, the homemade and the school projects.  I have an assortment of items purchased at the Gifts and Gadgets parties I attended each year at my cousin’s house.    

Sadly I have no ornaments from my childhood.  One year when my mom and I went to retrieve the decorations from the basement of the home we lived in, they were gone.  What lowly thieves would steal someone’s Christmas memories?  We suspected the neighbors in the house behind us but had no proof.

The Christmas tree will find its place in the room that we added in 2004.  For some reason we have never been able to attach a name to that room.  I wanted to be grand and call it the solarium but that sounded pompous so I tried sunroom.  It has been referred to by others as the back room, the family room, the Martha Stewart room (because of the décor) and most commonly, the new room.

I bought all new decorations that year from the Martha Stewart collection at K-Mart.  It is kind of a woodsy theme with pine cones and hedge hogs, the colors a mossy green and burgundy.  Martha has since moved on to Macy’s leaving us regular folks behind to mourn her departure.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Macy’s.  I go there once a month after my hair appointment.  Unfortunately by the time I peruse the clothing I am too tired to check out anything else.

I have the urge to bake holiday treats but I am a Weight Watcher trying to lose weight for the umpteenth time.  My son works out and although he indulges himself with pizza and candy I don’t want to add temptation.  Of course I would share the baked goods with family and friends, I just don’t know if I want to torture myself in the process.

Hope you and yours have a great holiday. 

Happy Halloween

Halloween is my favorite holiday.  On the surface it seems like a day for children but I believe it gives the rest of us a chance to feel like a kid again.  It is part of the fall season which I have already mentioned as my favorite time of year. 

I like to decorate for Halloween at the beginning of October.  This involves removing some of the fall decorations I just set out a month before.  Once Halloween is over I bring those decorations out again plus add the few Thanksgiving decorations I have.  Those of you who know me are not surprised by this OCD behavior.  

As a child I remember dressing up as a black cat, skeleton, ghost and Frankenstein complete with battery-operated red bolts at my neck.  One year I trick or treated in a red devil outfit my cousin Danny had worn the year before.  My choice of costumes verifies that I was a bit of a tomboy; no Cinderella or Minnie Mouse here.   

We could hardly wait for the sun to go down and I don't ever remember being accompanied by an adult.  I had older cousins and we went as a group.  We traveled blocks from home.  Of course this was eons ago and an entirely different time.

The variety of offerings we received ran the gamut.  At one house we might be given a penny; at another an apple.  My least favorite was a solitary walnut or peanut.  I remember one old lady answering the door with a brown bag in her hand.  She dipped a "teaspoon" into the bag and dropped a couple of kernels of popcorn into my trick or treat bag.  I'll never forget that.  My aunt and uncle's neighbor made peanut butter cookies each year and some people gave out popcorn balls.  As I said this was a different time.   

Sometimes we would be asked in by the person answering the door so their spouse could see our costumes.  We would go in!  I remember being a bit apprehensive but I did it anyway.  This would be unheard of today.  Luckily for us we only encountered good people.

After a couple of hours we trudged home, tired yet eager to look over our bounties.  One year we were chased home by the neighborhood bullies, two brothers who lived on the next street.  They were trying to steal our trick or treat bags.  We made it to the safety of my Grandma's house goodies still in hand.

The first ten years in this house I baked a table full of cupcakes, cookies and pumpkin bread for family, friends and their children each Halloween.  Some of my daycare parents would return with their children to participate in the festivities which included bobbing for apples.  As the years passed the number of people attending my Halloween party declined and on year ten nobody came.  When my friend Molly called to say she wasn't coming, I told her I wouldn't be doing it again.  True to my word I didn't bake the next year.  When my son Jordan and I returned from trick or treating the phone rang.  It was Molly.  She said you were serious about not baking weren't you?  She and her children had come over and when no one answered the door she peeked through my dining room window and saw the bare table.

A few years ago I began hosting a different kind of party now that the children are grown.  I bake a few goodies but the star of the event is a pot of garbanzo soup.  It is my grandma's recipe and my mom, son, aunties, cousins and friends gather at my dining table to enjoy a meal that warms their tummies and the cockles of my heart.

My Favorite Season

Autumn is my favorite time of the year. I like the colors, the weather and the holidays. For me, fall is a time of new beginnings. That probably goes back to my childhood and the start of school. At that time school began near the end of September because of the prune season. Many families picked prunes and they needed their children's help as well. I still can’t get used to school starting before August is even over.

I remember a more definite change in seasons. The weather was a little cooler than summer and the sun cast longer shadows. School clothes were wool skirts and cardigan sweaters for the girls and boys still wore jeans but with plaid shirts or striped tees. My mom always bought me oxford shoes which I detested. I had big feet and I thought those shoes made my feet look even bigger. One year she bought me plain white when I wanted the two-tone type the other girls were wearing. I felt like I might as well wear the shoe boxes.

I entered third grade after a summer of listening to rock and roll on my transistor radio. For those of you under 60 my radio was about the size of a pack of cigarettes. I had developed a habit of humming. I didn't realize I was doing it until my teacher pointed it out to me.....several times.

There was never a mystery about who our teachers would be.  There were two classes for each grade and most teachers stayed year after year. Going into fourth grade I expected Mrs. Purdy would be my teacher. Her stern demeanor had given her a reputation of being mean. She had a shock of white near the front of her otherwise dark hair which earned her the nickname of "skunky Purdy." I was really dreading fourth grade. Before class on the first day of school I had to stop by the foyer to learn my class assignment. To my surprise I was scheduled with a Mrs. Josephine. I was cautiously optimistic until I entered the classroom and saw the familiar black and white hair. My teacher was Mrs. "Josephine" Purdy.

The type of food we eat changes with the seasons. Summer barbecues and light suppers give way to comfort foods like stews, soups, casseroles and roasts. I was a picky eater as a child. I didn't like vegetables at all. I remember walking in the door after school and smelling the aroma of beef stew or stuffed bell peppers which my grandma had spent hours cooking. I would sit at the table, arms crossed and pout. I'm sure my grandma fixed me something else. Luckily I grew out of that stage. I just wish my grandma was still here so I could enjoy all the foods I refused back then.

It's funny how payback works. When my son was a child he’d come in to the kitchen where I was cooking what I thought was a delicious meal.  He would lift each lid to check the contents then look at me and ask, "What am I going to eat?"

I like to bake and fall is the best time for that. I especially like to make sweet breads, cakes and crisps. Pumpkin or carrot bread, carrot or applesauce cake and apple crisp are some of my favorites. 

Decorating for holidays is another of my passions.  I bring down my fall bins at the beginning of September.  I take out each newspaper-wrapped decoration with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia.  The beautiful colors add so much warmth to my home.

For me fall marks the beginning of “the holidays” although Halloween is the first major holiday we celebrate in autumn.   The time goes by quickly and Thanksgiving soon follows.  As a matter of fact do you realize there are only 78 shopping days until Christmas?   

Whittling Down My Bucket List

Two weeks ago I was able to check a major entry off my bucket list. I saw Alan Jackson in concert. He was appearing at a winery in Murphys. I had never heard of this place and was surprised that a big county star was appearing there. I bought the tickets in April after a prolonged debate with myself over what price tickets to buy. Then I thought, for heaven's sake, it's a one-time event and went for the best.

After I completed treatment last year my oncologist had suggested I take a vacation but I didn't feel like it. I was happy to be at home, just feeling good again. Earlier this year I thought about how I wanted to see Alan Jackson and decided to do it. Mecca Ann had suggested we take a trip somewhere so I asked her if she wanted to go with me and she agreed.

The day before the concert I drove to Fresno to pick her up and thankfully she took over the wheel for the rest of the trip. The three-hour drive to Arnold lead us through beautiful scenery along a mostly winding road. Though the landscape was breathtaking it felt like we weren't getting anywhere because after a while it all looked the same.

I saw an expansive bridge in the distance and said, "I see something coming up that I am not too happy about."

She asked, "The bridge?"

I said, "Yeah, are we going across that?"

"I think so."

As we got closer we stopped to take a picture of the bridge which was green, my favorite color. I stayed in the car and as she walked up the road I had a scary thought about her falling over the side of the road into the canyon. When she got back in the car she said, "I was thinking, what if I fell over the side?" I told her I had the same thought and we cracked up.

Some time had passed as I was taking in the vistas when I said, "I'm going to ask a dumb question but did we already go over the bridge?"

"Uh, yeah, we had to get across that water."

We arrived in Arnold where I had booked two nights accommodations. By the time I got around to booking a room there were no vacancies left in Murphys. Arnold is only another twelve miles up the road. When we checked in I asked the motel clerk where we could get something to eat and she told us about a restaurant directly across the street. We were advised that it closed at 9 PM. We found out that everything closes at nine in Arnold.

We had to be at the winery at five the next day. Once we were let in, there was an open bar and appetizers were served. The doors to the dining room opened to beautifully set tables. The room shimmered. We sat with a lively group and had a good time. I got a little buzz and started to sip water. I decided not to finish my dinner because I didn't want to take a chance that I might get sick. I sure didn't want to miss a minute of the concert.

Shooter Jennings was the opening act. I had heard of him but wasn't familiar with his music. He was great. The crowd was rowdy and there was a lot of drinking going on. Once Shooter finished, I was excited for Alan Jackson to come out and then I spotted a cowboy on a balcony at the side of the stage. "Is that him? Is that him?" I started waving as he came down the stairs but it was just a guy in a cowboy hat.

Finally Alan Jackson came out and I started jumping up and down, waving and screaming. He was so good. He sang most of his hits. He told stories and tossed guitar picks out to the audience. He is really gorgeous. I was staring at him so intently I told Mecca Ann I couldn't believe he didn't sense it. His performance lasted for an hour and a half. I was so thrilled. I hated for it to end.

It was a great trip and we plan on taking another soon.

I just thought of something to add to my bucket list. See Alan Jackson again.

Pass the popcorn........and tissue

I love chick flicks.  Should I be embarrassed to admit that?  Well, I'm not.  Some of my all-time favorite movies (that I watch more than I should) are When Harry Met Sally, Murphy's Romance, Green Card, Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail (I seem to have a Meg Ryan thing too), Notting Hill and reaching back a few years, Young at Heart.  Young at Heart features two of my favorite stars; Frank Sinatra and Doris Day.  You know the scenario; boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl.  It's and old plot line but it still works today.  I am a sucker for romance and I like happy endings.

If the story involves lost love whether it be through death, divorce, breakup, rejection, geography or any other means my heart breaks as much as the characters in the film  These films are known as tear jerkers.  I do like a good cry once in a while but I don't watch those movies as much.  I can usually find enough things to cry about on my own.  An Affair to Remember is a perfect example of this genre.

Finally there are the movies so painful to watch I do not ever want to see them again.  Topping that list is Sophie's Choice.  I saw the film in 1982 and although it was a wonderfully-acted, well-written movie it was torturous to watch and I swore I would never see it again.  I never have.  Others include My Foolish Heart, Love Story, Summer of '42, My Girl, Titanic and Nights in Rodanthe. 

A friend suggested Nights in Rodanthe.  Since I am a Richard Gere and Diane Lane fan I ordered the DVD from Amazon.  My partner had passed away the year before so when my friend asked how I liked the movie, I said, "The guy dies."  She said she hadn't thought about that.

I had decided I wouldn't see Titanic just from watching the ads on television.  When a friend who had seen the movie described a couple of scenes to me, tears ran down my cheeks.  I have only seen bits and pieces of Titanic on TV.  I also shed tears over a description of My Girl.  I have seen that film on TV and love it until the bees attack.

I saw the Help last week.  I wasn't planning to include it with the rest of my chick flicks; I just wanted to mention how great it is.  The term chick flick often implies a lack of quality.  But the more I thought about it, the Help is the best kind of chick flick.  It shows the strength women have; both individually and collectively.  It made me proud to be a woman and yet I am humbled by the bravery and tenacious attitudes exhibited by women who had been groomed for a life of submission.  These women who were treated as non persons by their employers were expected to run the household.  They cooked the meals, cleaned the houses, washed the clothes and essentially raised the children.  I don't know if this movie (book) is based on a true story but it represents a contemptible period in our history.  I am not naive enough to believe that this sort of discrimination no longer occurs but maybe a book and film like this will serve to open our minds and our hearts to the plight of  the disenfranchised.