The Passing of a King

 

"In my culture, death is not the end. it's more of a stepping off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into a green veld where you can run forever."
~ T'challa as portrayed by Chadwick Boseman

Sometimes people keep things to themselves, troubling things, because they don't want anyone else to worry. It's an act of love really. The act of being worried is so draining. Especially in situations where the act of worry or concern cannot change anything. Or maybe he was just a private person. I honestly don't know, but his people kept it close. A friend of mine, who was a friend of a friend of Chadwick's sister told me today that she kinda knew he had cancer, but thought that it was under control or had been treated so she didn't even think about it. And after I saw pictures of him earlier this year and expressed concern with other friends those conversations quickly became that he was "naturally skinny" and had just bulked up for his roles or that he was preparing for another acting gig by slimming down. The idea that there might be something else to it did not even occur to us. In reality we've all known people with cancer, but treatment is real, so now we tend think of it as more something you get through than what ends you. It hurts to be wrong.  

The King is Dead. Long live the King. 

Chadwick Boseman studied hard at his craft. And he was good at it. He was someone who had worked enough to not only was able to credibly embody the godfather of soul James Brown, but also display the quiet courage of baseball legend Jackie Robinson, or the spirit of a young future supreme court justice Thurgood Marshall. These and other were roles that required variation of style, of cadence, of emotion. Of a blend of talent and craft. In an industry that still limits the what kind of character that black actors and actresses can be, he managed to widen the field for himself and for others. And then came his star turn, as the African King and superhero T'challa, the Black Panther. The first billion dollar movie headed by a black lead character. A tour de force on so many levels. One that created an image that resonates, as we say now, for the culture. And he did all of them in between chemo treatments and battling his cancer. 

I watch the videos of him visiting children with cancer, of his tearing up during interviews when he says it gave it him a sense of responsibility, and those take on a new weight now. He knew where they were, what they faced. I'm certain he kept his head up, but that's a heavy burden. And he carried it well.

I don't wish to diminish any other death this year, but this one feels different. So much has moved us this year. So many lives have been cut short by tragedy. Some by fate. We didn't see any of them coming. They all hurt. 

We thank you Mr. Boseman.

Wakanda Forever.

2016 Can Get Gone....

On Christmas day, a bit of sadness passed into our lives when George Micheal died. I didn't realize he was that young, so this struck me as a little crazy. George was part of my maturation, the period where I went from awkward kid to, um...awkward man-child? More than a few of his songs I can still sing from heart even though I know it's been five or ten years since I heard them. He resonated, which is something you don't see much of in this instant gratification entertainment culture we live in today. The man could sing.

Careless whisper, of a good friend...

And just as I get ready to properly eulogize him....

Carrie Fisher dies. I knew about the heart attack, but I just knew she'd pull through. Damn, I'm a middle aged black man, but Carrie Fisher was Princess Leia and as a kid that gold bikini talked to me. As much as people decry that women can't be strong on film, we met Princess Leia on a secret mission where she stared down one of the baddest villains ever created, then minutes after the 'heroes' arrived SHE TOOK CHARGE OF HER OWN DAMN RESCUE. As we say now, she could do both.

Now I think that this would make a fantastic obit - so I tell my younger friends that no matter how I go, I want it reported that I drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.”
― Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking

Now...

2016 has just been hell on my childhood. Prince, Muhammad Ali, Alan Rickman, David Bowie, Florence Henderson, Arnold Palmer, Gene Wilder, Doris Roberts, Ron Glass, Merle Haggard, John Saunders, Craig Sager, Morley Safer and and Abe Vigoda. It's an eclectic list to be sure, but then I was raised in age before curated entertainment. I like everything because I liked it, not because it was cool.

Is this what being old feels like? Watching your childhood slowly dissolve.

Because this sucks.

I'll be happy this New Year because this damn year is over. 

Thank You Mr. Clancy

Tom Clancy wasn't my favorite author. But with just one glance at my bookshelf I spot Red Storm Rising, his 1986 tale of a fictional skirmish at the at the front rim of a World War III scenario. It's intricate, showing how the small parts effect the whole and a pretty good read. His collaboration Op-Center Sea of Fire sits right next to it. I remember reading the Hunt for Red October and Sum of all Fears before they movies, but I can't find my copies. And although everyone remembers Jack Ryan as personified by a remarkable Alec Baldwin my favorite character was the "man in black", operative John Clark.

Even now, although I want my writing to be light and airy, just glancing at a Tom Clancy novel reminds me how good a story can be even when it's density is thick with detail. He made heavy lifting to read enjoyable. The loss of an author, the loss of imagination, is always a tragedy.

Thank you Mr. Clancy, for a good read.

Not Feeling the Zombie Apocalypse

Ramblings Post #217
Chase your dreams. Or at least try to look at them from time to time. Dreams are your brain running checks in the system, exposing you to things you were even afraid to think while awake. But don't over do it, sometimes you brain just spits out stuff. Let it go.

Walking Dead Shot - So wrong. The highway on the left leads to Freedom Park, the bridge in the distance is 85/75 and leads out of town. The traffic should be on other side of the road trying to get out, not heading to brunch.

Last night I had dreams about zombies. Not once, but three or four times. It was like a triple feature where I went from scenario to scenario, at one point hiding out in a tower - with trash bags in the corridor and brewing beer in hanging bottles(?) - to being back at my parents house praising the loss of power because it meant we could spend more time doing things that were actually important. Oddly, I saw no zombies, but the people in my dreams talked about them a lot. It was one of those things you want to try to interpret, but don't know where to start. Or just not.

I don't particularly like zombies. First, I'm not a big fan of horror. When I was younger I found horror films funny (I cheered for the monster) but the latest breed of horror creations I find too gory. It's how creative can I get without any heart. Sporty and I used to go see them, but only because she wanted to. Watching movies waiting to be scared isn't something I enjoy.

The other reason I don't like zombies is that I think that it's intellectually lazy to use them. As a writer, I think one of the keys of good storytelling is that both the protagonist and the antagonist have viable and believable stories. The villain has to want something - revenge, money, power, etc. to give the hero something to do. And the hero has to have a reason to stop them. Bad villain? Lackluster motivation? Hero involved for no reason? The whole story suffers. The use of zombies sadly eliminates the need for that whole construct. Zombies just want to feed. No ego, no motivation, no plan that has to be worked out or scenario to create to make them believable. Just say they exist and boom, you're done. Even better, all the hero needs to do is kill them, with no real other plan. Sometimes the author gives the hero destination to reach "safety" but the use of zombies is as lazy as sticking vampires into the tale. 

So I don't watch the Walking Dead, nor am I particularly excited about the upcoming movie World War Z and I look past the cover of video games that offer hordes of zombies to blow away. Lazy. The last zombies I liked were on South Park, where it turned out you weren't supposed to kill them! Oops.

Barkeep. Do you have anything with universal themes, strong characters, inventive writing? Oh, you serve drinks, not books? Oh, well pity me then, and not a lot of ice.

Old joke...smart thinking.

A man from the city had moved the country and figured he needed a farm animal. So from one his neighbors up the way he bought an old mule.

"That'll be $100 young fella, bring him by tomorrow." The Old Timer said.

On the way home, the Old Timer stopped off and bought some supplies, spent some money dranking and drove up to his house to find the mule dead in his yard. He called the man from the city to tell him the bad news.

"Your new mule died. Sorry"

"Well, just gimme my money back, no harm."

"Can't do that, already spent it."

"Well then, okay. Hey, can you drop the mule off in the morning anyway?"

"But the mule is dead, son."

"So you said, but just drop him off in the morning."

So the next morning, the farmer loaded up the dead mule and dropped off at the city fella's place. A few weeks went by and the farmer was passing and decided to stop in and see what the guy had done with what he bought.

"Hey man, I'm curious, what did you do with that dead mule?"

"Oh, that. I held a raffle to win him. Sold about 500 tickets at $2 apiece."

The Old Timer was shocked. "Didn't somebody complain you was raffling off a dead mule?"

"Yeah, the guy who won didn't like it."

"So what did you do?"

"I gave him back his $2."