Remains of a Man's Day

That haunting movie was on again the other day and, after hours on the road within the last few weeks, it hasn't quite left the brain. The other day the t.v. remote found the instinctive impulse to stop and take another peak, if only to remind oneself of the soft underbelly of a respectful, middle-aged man. It isn't quite the Halloween scare you'd think, but rather a mental numbness of another sort.

It has been over 20 years since I was dragged kicking and screaming to see the movie The Remains of the Day. Yet the image of Anthony Hopkins, Mr. Stevens the Butler, sticks in one’s mind. Although the character is a man of honor and dignity, he is, for the most part, alone and unfulfilled. Empty. It is a fairly dark image of a man countered by a hefty respect for long hours, hard work, and putting the needs of others first.

It isn't currently important, really, just timely. When the movie was released in the early late 80s I saw it and I understood it, but did not truly get it. Fresh out of college, not yet married, and just starting a professional life of work, I was still in the making. The movie should have been forgettable and unremarkable to the college self save for the fact I knew men like Mr. Stevens. I worked with them. They were former professors. They were the middle class dads of friends and collegues who grew out of the depression era influenced generation ahead of me. It is a bit of my own father, who devoted his artistic soul to a vibrant career in music to struggle with early retirement and only a handful of gigs to satisfy his soul. And it is now me, twenty years into a career of giving my talents and dedication to one work project after another and coming home to happily cook, chauffer the kids, and attend to all the elements divorced/re-married dads do.

The Mr. Stevens character tapped into the silence and the unspoken hush of most dignified men. His self reflection is not lost on me. It is the dark, tacit part of us men not often shared. Though it could be Halloween-esque, it isn’t really a scary depressing place at all. It resembles center stage of an empty theater with a single, glowing bulb. It is a cigar, a glass of scotch, and an hour by oneself on the back patio. It is fishing or driving in silence. It is being. Respectful. Contemplative. Alone.

Men don’t share it because the answer is almost too simple. Get into the game. Stay in the light. Just leave the darkened mind-set and let that Emma Thompson character know of your true feelings and life can be complete. Yes, it can. I have. And, I am immensely happier for making the leap and trusting again. I didn't follow the script. But...

Apologies if you have read to this end with no real conclusion to offer up. All this rambling makes for incredibly boring reading, I'm sure. Most blogs of note get much further in today’s on-line culture by loudly bitching about something. But, to mer there is a sense of celebration in the balance between a man’s light and dark. One thrives in this balance. And that is ok.

Although he wasn't a role model, per se, Mr. Stevens taught me something once. And it has become clearer at the end of this day.

Summer ott8, not 2B4Got10

It is Labor Day. I am lounging and enjoying the end of summer in the only slacker way I know how.... I sort of have the entire day to listen to music, re-string my guitar, drink a beer or two, or watch some Bond on a HD. Later this afternoon I shall play in the kitchen as there is a dinner party to attend this evening. We must bring an appetizer and a salad.

I’m concocting a fun appetizer with a very bad name (new name suggestions are most welcome, so please comment). For lack of a more creative label, I call them Spinach Roll-Ups. Essentially, it is made with lime chutney and served with peanuts, coconut, chopped limes, and red onion. Each is rolled up in a large spinach leaf and served with freezer cold vodka shots. The salad is my Chinese Chicken Salad with mango and blueberries.

But I have a few hours to lounge. It seems this is as good a time as any to flex the fingers on this keyboard. I’ve been mostly running around iTunes these days and reading up on fantasy football dealings. Not much to tell you all. So, even if there isn’t much to report today, it does feel good to exercise my fingers.

The summer of ott 8 is all but gone now. June, July, and August all pretty much documented here on the screen and posts from EHTT. Ott 9 is right around the corner. None too soon, I think. Although, I’m not sure if really want time to move slower or more quickly these days. Depends on the day and the issues. Today, I want it slow way down. I want to extend a summer that will stay in my mind for a long, long time. Not 2B4GOT10, that is for sure…..

A Bond, James Bond

Times have changed. Decades ago sons would be mentored by their fathers, preparing themselves for the time when they’d take over the family farm or the furniture business, join the law firm after school, become a teacher, or essentially follow in their father’s footsteps in some way. The Industrial Revolution took fathers away into factories where kids couldn’t really see “Dad in action”. And now, modern divorce rates have started a trend of “weekend dads” or, in my case, an “every other week dad”.

I miss the daily, close proximity which I think is healthy for my son (and daughter). But, it is what it is, and I make it a priority to put my energies into something that can resonate. If modern ways have led to a physical separation for periods of time, I need to find way of keeping the sacred father-son bond intact.

So ... we bond, James Bond.

Last night, my son and I found ourselves home alone as The Girlie spent the night at a friend’s house.

My son asked sheepishly, “What do you want to do? Rent some video games and hang out?” He obviously wanted interaction with his dad.

“Yeah,” I thought. I searched for something in my brain that could be somewhat bonding and accomplished without spending any money. “Let’s see ... You’ve got leftover pizza and I want to make these crab cakes so I have lunches this week. But yeah, let’s make dinner, take some beverages up to the couch and just hang.”

So we set out making dinner. He even helped me chop up the red onions and cilantro. He heated up his pizza and he watched me pan fry my crab cakes. We talked. We quickly cleaned up. I grabbed a beer, he a glass of milk, and we headed up the stairs to the couch.

“Want to watch a movie?” he suggested. “You haven’t let me watch that new Bond movie, yet!” He’s good. He knows it is my favorite. And we’ve been letting him watch PG-13s these days.

“Absolutely,” I enthusiastically responded. “Put, it in and cue it up.”

And we watched it together and heartily laughed at this ...

Vesper Lynd: [after discussing poker skills on the train] What else can you surmise, Mr. Bond?
James Bond: About you, Miss Lynd? Well, your beauty's a problem. You worry you won't be taken seriously.
Vesper Lynd: Which one can say of any attractive woman with half a brain.
James Bond: True. But this one overcompensates by wearing slightly masculine clothing. Being more aggressive than her female colleagues. Which gives her a somewhat *prickly* demeanor, and ironically enough, makes it less likely for her to be accepted and promoted by her male superiors, who mistake her insecurities for arrogance. Now, I'd have normally gone with "only child," but by the way you ignored the quip about your parents... I'm going to have to go with "orphan."
Vesper Lynd: All right... by the cut of your suit, you went to Oxford or wherever. Naturally you think human beings dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain, my guess is you didn't come from money, and your school friends never let you forget it. Which means that you were at that school by the grace of someone else's charity: hence that chip on your shoulder. And since your first thought about me ran to "orphan," that's what I'd say you are.
[he smiles but says nothing]
Vesper Lynd: Oh, you are? I like this poker thing. And that makes perfect sense! Since MI6 looks for maladjusted young men, who give little thought to sacrificing others in order to protect queen and country. You know... former SAS types with easy smiles and expensive watches.
[Glances at his wrist]
Vesper Lynd: Rolex?
James Bond: Omega.
Vesper Lynd: Beautiful. Now, having just met you, I wouldn't go as far as calling you a cold-hearted bastard...
James Bond: No, of course not.
Vesper Lynd: But it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine. You think of women as disposable pleasures, rather than meaningful pursuits. So as charming as you are, Mr. Bond, I will be keeping my eye on our government's money - and off your perfectly-formed arse.
James Bond: You noticed?
Vesper Lynd: Even accountants have imagination. How was your lamb?
James Bond: Skewered! One sympathizes.

It is good Bond dialogue.

Granted, we only watched a movie. We paused it numerous times so I could explain the subtleties of the Bond thing. We had a great time. We Bonded.

I believe if I make it a priority, as a father, to pass on my knowledge and experience, my son will reap the benefits. He will have a sense of place and a personal identity. Tonight we cooked and just hung out. It is debatable as to what he might have gleaned from James Bond. But there are worse roll models out there. Right?