"The Golden Hour"

If you're reading this, I am quite sure you know I have no training in cinematography. That said, I am a fan of the work of Terrence Malick. Malick, a fellow Illinois native, in my opinion, is one of the greatest directors of his generation; moreover, he is quite particular about the look and feel of his films. Malick, as I understand his work, only shoots during "the Golden Hour." "The Golden Hour" is the last minutes before dusk or dawn: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_hour_(photography).

Like my usual writing, I am initiating this with a long preface. The reason I took so many words to write about photography and Terrence Malick was to express that the design behind it just smacked me boldly in the face. Thirty minutes ago, I was walking down to the drop slot, to pay my August rent. I was in a pair of shorts, with keys and rent in one hand, and my phone up to my ear with the other. As I strolled the fifty yards to the mail slot, I looked up the grassy hill leading up to the ridge where a neighborhood of affluent houses resides. Looking up the hill, in the midst of this Golden Hour, there she stood, a beautiful doe simply nibbling on the grass and foliage there on the hillside.

Talking to my aunt on the phone, about a trip to see her and my family, I stood there dumbfounded. Much like seeing the fox again this morning, walking into my office building; paying my rent this evening, I was again reminded that I live somewhere new and quite special. The point behind the verbose and tangential preamble was that there are few words to express how serene and beautiful life is for me, here in Boise. Growing up in the country, we saw deer, but never in such close proximity or with such graceful presence. Shhhh... don't tell anyone.

Peter and Maria, Mike and Anu

Writing is such an amazing means for communication or meditation. The latter was what had me pull out my notepad here in SEATAC. What had me thinking of that was thinking about what I had earlier written to my wedded friends Maria and Peter.

Maria and Peter were married today; this was the 20th of July. There I stood at the reception thinking about how truly joyous and special their wedding was for me. It wasn’t special due to anything exceptional concerning Peter and Maria’s circumstances or the material components around their wedding—with the exception of their location, view and weather. Rather it was special because of how joyous and expressive they were for one another and their love.

Reading that as I wrote it makes me self-conscious about how cliché that sounds. Nevertheless, it was truly between them, and abnormally expressive coming from my friend Peter; to read that, or to fully understand that, you have to know my friend Peter.

Peter, a great guy, is someone whom often times keeps emotions more to himself. In this case, Peter could not have been more proud and happy than to be marrying Maria. This was evident and expressive in the broad and white smile born across his face. Moreover, in the apparent face of the minister speaking too softly into the microphone; there Peter was, with a booming, “I do!”

There I stood at the reception thinking of all of this, along with my overwhelming enthusiasm for my friend Peter and his beautiful bride Maria. I decided I needed to go write something more substantial to the guestbook than I did earlier, at the front of the reception.

There I stood, over at the guestbook table penning this relatively lengthy note of joy. Of course, I was conscious of anyone coming late, or taking the opportunity of distraction to write something away from the earlier lines. When a woman came up behind me, I offered to set down the pen. Upon offering, she declined, and walked away from the table with a smile. It wasn’t of any consequence.

Following from that, I was finishing up my paragraph, and I found a couple behind me. I apologized immediately, but this time I promised, “I am just finishing.”

The attractive young woman said, “What you didn’t get them a card?” with a broad smile across her face. Her husband stood next to her, amicably smiling, but also ready to move forward with signing the guestbook.

I stated to explain, but didn’t go into detail, after I finished what I was writing. Instead, I went to find Peter to wish him a wonderful evening, express what I am now writing in the airport, and to say “goodbye,” as I had to be leaving for my flight. I introduced myself, and they reciprocated with good manners.
“I am Matt.”
“I am Mike,” he said. “I am Anu,” she followed. It was perfectly amicable and nice, with her grin at catching me in the act of writing a rather verbose note to Peter and Maria.

It was indeed a pleasure to see faces of so many I had not seen for a while, but the real pleasure was seeing a dear friend find his true love. After this wedding, it was the kind of good fortune and beautiful display of love and happiness you wish you could laconically articulate to others during a warm toast, wishing them the very best of life and love. “May you meet a spouse to make you as happy as my friend Peter was today, this the 20th of July.

Fox News—I Watched and Shan’t again Watch

I watch Fox News on occasion. I do not discriminate; in spite of the fact I think it can be a network full of hacks. I know; I know, but it’s not because it’s a network running political positions contrary to my own. For example, I love and greatly admire George Will, much more so than I like James Carville. My voting record probably falls more in line with Carville’s, but that doesn’t mean I think he states his arguments better than does Will.

My point in that preface is I have never been quite as disgusted as I was this weekend, flipping between stations yesterday. I couldn’t be more serious, I flipped through a Geraldo forthcoming things on his show, and was interested enough to stay on Fox News. In so doing, the lead story was a super-model’s apparent suicide from jumping off a building, where Geraldo’s show had “exclusive footage.” What?! Exclusive footage of someone’s suicide, I turned away immediately; however, there was to be something else that kept me flipping through the station to see if the coverage of that story had concluded. Three times flipping, I saw the profile of the model’s face, lying supine, on the street from the other side of a truck, shot underneath the fire engine’s body.

I could incessantly write about this, but for now I’ll conclude. To write more just leaves me again seeing the image, and thinking about what a relative or loved one would do when faced with something so horrible and tabloid. How anyone can take this channel seriously, makes me wonder so much about our culture.

Some Random Matt Thoughts—A Matt Musing

These past few days, I have been listening to two albums, both of which, years ago, were much loved albums of mine. REM’s “Eponymous” and Radiohead’s “The Bends.” From the last thirty years, both acts are considered hallmarks of independent rock; of that, there is no question. Moreover, “The Bends” has always been a darling of critics. Nevertheless, sometimes it takes going into one’s library and putting those CDs in the car, thereby putting them back in rotation.

Of course, “Eponymous” was a Greatest Hits of REM’s IRS Records work, prior to their becoming a Warner Bros. act. I am noting both of these things due to the fact that realizations sometimes come in the oddest of places, like driving to work. Driving to work today, I found myself repeating “Driver 8.” I used to play “Driver 8” over and over again when I was in the seventh or eighth grade.

The human experience never ceases to amaze me, in the same way that I’ve always found the Smiths lyric interesting, not until recently have I realized my love for the band was driven by the work of Johnny Marr—his composition. For me, the same could be said for R.E.M. While Stipe is an entertaining front-man for the band, both colorful in style and personality, my adoration of their music has been the result of Mike Mills and Peter Buck.

I don’t know if this is significant, other than it seems to remind me this thematic component of this year, I am getting older. Instead of thinking of the lead singer, without being a musician, we have that tendency; I am now noticing and appreciating the scope of bands’ work. I know that sounds altruistic and a bit dopey—also intuitive, but it’s one of those bits of consciousness that never ceases to amaze me. These are those bits, the likes of which leaves us thinking, “it’s odd; it seems so logical now, I am surprised I’ve not before now noticed this.”

Misguided Faith – Means for Control

http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/06/24/evangelical.vote/index.html

It never ceases to amaze me, the way those that speak so highly about faith and the bible in public life cannot academically and respectfully disagree with another person’s challenge to their respective positions. The link above is to a CNN story about James Dobson, stating that: "I think he's [Obama] deliberately distorting the traditional understanding of the Bible to fit his own world view, his own confused theology."

What Obama says in the speech cited from a few years ago is in the article. Please read it, and make your own judgments; however, please think about this. Is it that Obama has an issue with the bible? No, that’s not what he says.

Obama’s problem with the use of the bible in public policy is the same problem I have with it. Prior to faith being intertwined with law, that faith would have to undergo a synthesis, being transmuted from, in this case, the bible, and then written into law.

To whom do we go for such enlightenment? Who are appropriately learned in the scripture to intertwine their faith in our laws? For Dobson, I am sure he would cite maybe not himself, but other religious leaders that could be involved. Of course, who selects these leaders to be those who interpret the bible? What about those of varying faiths?

What if one day, the US, following this precedent became an Islamic state? Would it not then make sense to follow Sharia? I know; I know, the slippery slope argument is a fallacy, but please see the parallel to what Dobson is saying. In essence, opening up the bible to our interpretations and evaluations, for the purpose of jurisprudence becomes an ugly and dangerous thing.

I started to write about Con and Transubstantiation, but held off on it. The point is the argument for incorporating faith in law, when there is a constitutional framework for their separation— for good reason, holds no water. How about this: why don’t we look to the bible, like we look to Greek philosophy for object moral axioms, and apply them to law? Thereby extrapolating these simple and objective axioms into different circumstances, and applying them to case by case by case. Following an agreed decision, citing conventional wisdom and previously decided opinions, we develop a framework of laws… My goodness, I am should be a framer of Early-Modern Constitutional Law, or a philosopher like Locke, Kant, or Mills!

The point is, when someone starts to reinforce their arguments using their interpretation of their translation of sacred texts, they are working to their personal morality. I think I am better off without James Dobson’s idea of Morality; he supports Bush, who put us in a war without substantial provocation.

Sawtooth Relay—The Gr8ful Deadfeet

I have forthcoming pictures, I’ll likely post tomorrow. Nevertheless, I felt as though I should sooner rather than later write something about the experience. This last Friday my team of six, Jay, Nick, Amber, Sparkle, Jerry Garcia, and I drove from Boise up to Stanley, Idaho. The team did so in a classic 1980’s conversion van, with an iPod full of songs and a horn speaker mounted on the front of the van. We were bound to run the Sawtooth Relay.

The Sawtooth Relay takes place from Stanley to Ketchum, Idaho, along Highway 75. The route is a smidge of sixty miles, which are divided among the team of six over twelve runs. For the sixth leg of the relay runs over Galena Summit (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galena_Summit), this is an 8701’ summit in the Sawtooth. I had the good fortune of not having to run that leg, but had the pleasure of running about eleven miles of the relay, over legs five and eleven.

If you ever have the opportunity, I highly recommend making it over to Eastern Idaho. Idaho is an undoubtedly beautiful state, and the Sawtooth Mountains in Idaho are pristine—a spectacular bit of eye candy. Winding up in Ketchum, having run through the Sawtooth, one can see why this part of Idaho, where Sun Valley is, is why so many with money spend their time in that part of the world.

The race was a blast; we had an incredible amount of fun. My team was a diverse group of folks, mothers and fathers, a middle-aged native-American, a college student and a near-thirty-year-old bachelor. Of course, to all of those runners there is greater detail, just like there is to every person one chooses to describe via demographic. The point was simple, we were there running the Sawtooth Relay to have a great time and we did.
Pictures to come!

Tim Russert and Blue Collar America

Whilst I am sure many of you have heard a great deal about the passing of Tim Russert this past Friday, I felt the need to write a bit on Tim Russert’s passing. Russert was more than a popular news bureau chief or a great interviewer for NBC News, relative to things political. From my perspective, Tim Russert did something few others continue these days. By that, I mean, in a great many of ways Tim Russert represented the Blue Collar Ideal of our country. Russert did so the way Bruce Springsteen does for music or the way the Tom Clancy character “Jack Ryan” does for fiction. It’s this universal ideal, this archetype about which our culture fantasizes, but no longer follows through in keeping alive.

I say that, in that I come from an area not dissimilar from Tim Russert’s Buffalo, NY. The Quad Cities—Moline, Rock Island, Illinois and Bettendorf, Davenport, Iowa—are a rust belt stronghold, right along with Peoria, Cleveland, Milwaukee, Detroit and more southern parts of Chicago (e.g. Gary, IN, Beverley, Homewood, etc…). Moving to Boise, I’ve often claimed a love for the city's socio-economic diversity, and loving that there is a dimension of “blue collar” work in this city. I continue to believe that; however, seeing the tributes to Russert, and thinking of the way I live, along with my upbringing, I cannot help but think I’ve avoided some dimension of that blue collar lifestyle that I so admire in Russert.

Is it just me, or are our generations losing their attachment to the post-Industrial Revolution remnants of the blue-collar labor ideal? I think our culture, while idolizing it in a nostalgic way, does not embrace it. Don’t get me wrong, I think we still value hard work; however, I think we are looking for components that are not as easily accessible. In other words, I think “elegance” has replaced pure function, and we prefer more synthesized and easily palatable deliveries both with our media and our ideals of ourselves. Of course, with those two things, one could go off the “deep thoughts’ end,” and claim that our social construction has taken us away from the “blue collar,” and for right now, our nostalgia keeps us thinking that mode of delivery is “to the point,” and is “honest.”

Because people like Tim Russert are doing what they do, that nostalgia remains. This is a Chris Matthews meets a voting-for-Hillary Clinton Pennsylvanian Male meets a Reagan Democrat. From a step back, it’s something interesting with which to contend. In short, it makes me wonder where the blue collar daughters and sons are, and what it is they aspire to do. Did the idea of being blue collar dissolve with the Baby Boomer generation? I don’t know. It’s something that fascinates me, indeed.