P-337

I admire the wild beast in Penguin 337, who escaped from a Tokyo zoo and was on the loose for 82 (!) days. 

Penguin 337 is so named because he/she is still so young that vets cannot determine gender. Penguin 337 scaled a rock wall 13ft high and squeezed through a barbed wire fence to escape its harbor side aquarium in March. Keepers' theory is that P-337 made its break for freedom after being startled into climbing over a rock twice its size, leaving 134 fellow penguins behind. P-337 was captured in perfect health, apparently having thrived of the fish life in Tokyo Bay. 

I have to ask myself, what's it going to take to startle me out of my self-constructed zoo and get me to scale my walls?

Harsh

Watching War Horse Is for Me....

.....Like Beating an old horse half to death and then putting it out of its misery by a single click on my remote. But thanks to Netflix,  Trophy Wife and I watched the whole miserable production last night. It made us late for church. Actually so late we kissed church off this Sunday.

Part of my problem is that World War I has always been conflictual for me. My own father was a veteran in the Rainbow Division, which he has never let me forget. He was in the field artillery. A ceremonial sword of his still graces our fireplace. His colt .45 automatic is still in the most remote recesses of my garage. World War I is a real old story for me.

And last night, Spielberg's rendition of a 1980's children book proved too long and too bloody for us. (Much like the real WW I?) Watching the Oscar's this year, I couldn't understand how a flick that looked so enticing in the teasers didn't fare better in the winners' circle. Now I know.

I'm as pro-horse as they come. (Maybe because I love varsity-sized dogs.) So, on that account, I expected to warm up to this movie. I rented this movie expecting to see it with my horse-loving grandchildren. That would have been a mistake. War Horse is not a horse story, but a war story.

Which is all right of course. As a war story, I can credit Spielberg et. al. for a compelling look at multiple facets of WW I. For one thing, the cinematography was outstanding. Character development? not so much. Suspension of disbelief? The horse, Joey is sold to the British Army to carry its cavalry rendered obsolete by German Machine guns. Miraculously, Joey, survives a disastrous attack only to become a German POW. Whence he is drafted to haul German artillery into position. He eventually escapes and ...... Well, I don't want to spoil the rest of the story, do I? Unneccesarily?

Bottom line: I felt this film was too dismal and emotionally manipulative.

Allen Jones

I had no idea how many people would attend Alan's Memorial Service. Sleepless at 3:45 A.M. this morning, I got up, had a beer and thought a little about Allen and me. It turned out, that there were so many Brothers and Sisters at the service, sharing and covering all his bases, I didn't want to intrude as just a utility player. But this is what I would have said.

Allen was one of the first people I got to know when we joined this Congregation. 

In my early immersion, I had found a seat in the men's group meeting in Starr King. Over time, attendance in that circle proved very erratic. But one thing Allen always did well was to show up. It came to pass that there were many meetings where it would be just the two of us. We had intense personal dialogues. Together, we discovered that we were two warriors in the same foxhole. He was the veteran, I was the raw recruit. Besides our deadly common enemy, we discovered many life experiences and regrets which we also had in common.

Allen still retained his lean athletic frame so it was far easier for me to picture him as a Wet Wednesday sailor and weekend soccer player than perhaps it was possible for him to see me in the same light. (Do you think?)

Allen always spoke with a smile, a soft voice and in run-on sentences. So I learned how to really listen. Allen taught me about my inner resources I was not aware of. Leading softly from behind, Allen encouraged me in a path which ultimately led me to affilate with the Mankind Project. That was Allen's Gift of Gold to me. 

Along the way he also taught me much about courage, optimism, love and living every day. Allen would tell me 'don't look back because you're not going that way.' 

And he would also instruct me to leave nothing on the table. He would often say, "Live life so completely that when death comes to you like a thief in the night, there will be nothing left for him to steal." 

 Well, there is obviously a lot that Allen Jones left for us. 

If he were here and speaking at this service, I imagine Allen would tell us to smile, breath and go slowly... Because for each of us, our time here is different, but when we get there, we will all get there at the same time.

Current Balance

I Am No Longer Blake Hawksworth

Last year I reviewed a case where a Dodger pitcher failed to cover 1st base. In that instance, Pitcher Blake Hawksworth committed a mental error which had game-changing consequences. Watch it. I said I felt Hawksworth's shame because I was making the same errors in same scale of magnitude in the biggest game in my personal life.

This year, I am wearing Josh Lindblom's shoes. I am committed to progress in my personal struggle against weight.

When I can't pitch like Lindblom, or hit like James Loney, the least I can do is to cover first base. Everyday. All the time.