In early April 2009, my family and I went to San Juan Capistrano for the day, where I would either live or retire if I loved Southern California, which will never happen. And I would have to be wealthier than I am now for that to happen. A lot.
I was so smitten with the everlasting peace of the area, a sense of history that will never fade, that I wrote an amteurish poem about my feelings. I looked up that poem today to make sure I had exact what I saw in San Juan Capistrano before I sent a message to author Kate Buford on her website about a few things dealing with Burt Lancaster that I'm seeking for my book.
Mom, Dad, Meridith and I walked around that downtown area, next to railroad tracks, passing what looked like many historical houses. Then we walked through Antique Row, which bears many antique shops, and we stopped at what looked like the largest one there.
I love antique stores. I don't collect them, but it's that deep, abiding respect for history in those stores that I feel so strongly in my own work, that'll keep me in nonfiction for years to come, continuing to explore the history of various things. At that antique store, I went into a small room off the main floor at the front of the store which held old issues of Time and Life magazines, along with other magazines that I don't remember because there weren't as many of them as those two. On a small table in front of me was a carefully wrapped set of envelopes for $12. I went back and forth on whether I wanted them, because in the upper right-hand corner, "Burt Lancaster" was stamped in blue. I e-mailed Buford because I thought that the envelopes were stamped "Burt Lancaster Productions," but he started Hecht-Lancaster, one of the first production companies run by an actor, and one of the very few to last in that time period, which then became Hecht-Hill-Lancaster, and after that ended, he started Norlan Productions (A combination of his wife's name, Norma, and his surname), but nothing in Buford's biography indicated in later years that he started a production company called "Burt Lancaster Productions." I think those envelopes indeed said "Burt Lancaster," but I wanted to make absolutely sure with Buford that that was probably the case.
I didn't buy those envelopes. And sitting on the couch today, finishing Buford's biography, I thought about those envelopes. I don't know if Burt Lancaster ever touched them or even saw them, but surely he had to have ordered them. I didn't need that kind of proof, but I think I just wanted a piece of the history of an actor who figured so largely in my teenage years by being in the first Airport movies, minor as that history might have been.
There is one thing that sort of makes up for it. At the Academy library in Beverly Hills, you're given the option of requesting photocopies of pages of documents you're poring over, whatever you need. You pay 50 cents a page, plus a mailing charge, and you receive the documents within a few weeks after your visit.
I requested that 10 pages be photocopied, and with a 75-cent mailing charge, that came out to $5.75. My visit to the library was on January 10, and I received a gray catalog envelope containing my photocopies on January 25. A few pages pertain to special effects production for Airport, especially about snow effects. But the document that made my heart flutter were call sheets for The Concorde: Airport '79, detailing the production schedule for Tuesday, January 30, 1979, the sets to be used, the actors required along with times for them to be in makeup and then on set (George Kennedy, Alain Delon, and David Warner weren't needed that day because the Concorde flight deck set wasn't being used), and call times for various crew members, including the cameraman and the camera operator, air conditioning on stage 12, and a dialogue coach. On the first page, there's a "special note" that states: "Cold weather gear for the Utah shoot will be handed out today. See Lambert Marks." That was for the crash sequence at the end of the movie. Utah stood in for Patscherkofel in Austria.
I've still got so much to do for this book that'll give me many thrills, but the biggest thrill thus far was getting the photocopies of these call sheets. All the years I watched the Airport movies, and I have part of its history. I could never imagine such a thing when I first watched these movies over and over on videotape. I noticed the effort that had gone into them with actors and special effects and all that, but not to this extent, not to pull apart each movie and see what's inside. I've kept these photocopies in their original envelope and I'm keeping it safe. I may want to use the call sheets as photos to be included in my book, but those are rights to seek much later, once I'm well into writing it.
I wish I had those envelopes, and I think it'll always remain my biggest regret of these eight years. Which goes to show that if you find something that relates to a major part of your life, grab it. Don't think about it. Just grab it.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Returning to the Love of the Work
Today I returned to my research full force. I'm nearly done with Burt Lancaster: An American Life by Kate Buford, and though I'm still questioning if I need to read all the pages of all the books I bought for research, I'm beginning to see the value in certain circumstances, such as it is with lead roles, like Lancaster's in Airport.
I decided to read the entire book not because of the research, but because I wrote an essay about the 1968 masterpiece The Swimmer for a collective Online Film Critics Society book that never happened. That was my first time doing research for anything of mine that was going to be put into print, even though it didn't happen, so being completely new to researching for a purpose way beyond getting a good grade in a history class, I overresearched. I tried to watch all of Lancaster's movies, and read all of John Cheever's works. I checked out a collection of Cheever's letters, and also watched every other film directed by Frank Perry, who directed The Swimmer. I had no idea what I was doing, but I thought this was the way to do it. I ended up framing the essay as a memory of when I first saw the movie in 2002 on Turner Classic Movies not long before I graduated high school, and how it affected me so, looking at a life so clearly squandered when I was just getting ready to figure out what I wanted to do with mine.
Having seen a lot of Lancaster's movies for that essay (which I still have and am deciding what to do with it, either find another outlet for it or post it all here), I wanted to see what Buford had written about them, because when I first checked this out from the library, I only went into the section about The Swimmer, nothing else. Ironic, considering what I had done for research, but this was only an essay.
The keyword that comes to mind a lot for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies is "context." I can't just say that Ross Hunter bought the rights to Arthur Hailey's novel, then hired George Seaton, hired the actors, hired the crew, and then they made the movie. I have to know what interested Hunter enough to turn Airport into a movie. I have to know what made him want to hire George Seaton to adapt the novel and direct it. I have to know why these particular actors were cast and if there was anyone else considered for Lancaster's role of Mel Bakersfeld, Dean Martin's role of Vernon Demerest, Jacqueline Bisset's role as Gwen Meighen, and so on. Moreso, why did Dean Martin, Burt Lancaster, Jacqueline Bisset, and all the others want to do it? To give just a little bit, I found out on my research visit to the Margaret Herrick Library that Bisset was under contract to Fox at the time and was loaned out to Universal for this. From the Q&A transcript of the screening that the Academy had in 2006 as part of its "Great to be Nominated" series, I also learned that Bisset doesn't remember much about the production. Actors' lives are indeed very busy.
In Buford's biography, I found out that the cinematographer of Airport had worked with Lancaster on two previous movies, one his directorial debut, The Kentuckian, and the other a six-week stint for Judgment at Nuremberg, though it doesn't sound like Lancaster had spearheaded that project as he did with The Kentuckian. He was fulfilling an obligation. So I wondered: Was that cinematographer suggested by Lancaster for Airport, or was that producer Ross Hunter's decision? Furthermore, Hunter wanted to have the major actors wrapped in three weeks' time, so perhaps Hunter was the one who had decided on Laszlo. Lancaster didn't sound all that involved, particularly because he didn't like the movie, calling it "the biggest piece of junk ever made." And yet, Hunter's power at Universal had severely dwindled because of costly failures like Sweet Charity that found Universal spiraling toward bankruptcy. So either he had decided on Laszlo and had to seek the approval of higher-up executives, or one of those executives thought of Laszlo, though that seems doubtful. But wouldn't you know it, Airport became the biggest hit of 1970 and saved Universal from ruin.
Then there's Whit Bissell, who worked with Lancaster on Brute Force, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, and The Birdman of Alcatraz, who was in the Airport cast, yet didn't work with Lancaster. He was the passenger seated next to Helen Hayes' Ada Quonsett on the fateful Trans Global Flight 2. Was Bissell put forth by Lancaster or was this Hunter again? I'm inclined to believe this was Hunter because Buford gives barely three paragraphs over to Airport, and if Lancaster had been slightly more involved, I think Buford would have found it because this is a very thorough, meticulous, detailed biography of Lancaster.
Reading a healthy chunk of Buford's biography wasn't all I did today. I spent some time in happy disbelief of what I was doing. David Warner played flight engineer Peter O'Neill in The Concorde: Airport '79, so I contacted the L.A.-based management company that oversees him, requesting an interview, figuring also that he might be surprised to find someone not interested in talking about Titanic, as it might very well be for him when the 3D rerelease comes out in April, being that he played Billy Zane's henchman.
I also contacted The Gage Group, which handles Stefanie Zimbalist's career, to confirm that she received my phone number as was requested. I need to interview her father, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., about his role as Captain Stacy in Airport 1975, so I thought it best to contact that agency and seek her out, since her father has no contact information online.
Then came one of the biggest steps I will ever take for my book, one of the two most crucial: I contacted the publicist at Hal Leonard who oversaw the release of Trust Me, George Kennedy's memoir, requesting an extensive interview with Kennedy. I need an extensive interview since he was in all four movies and I have a lot I want to cover, especially about producer Ross Hunter and director George Seaton since they're long gone, as well as director Jack Smight of Airport 1975 (Tomorrow I'll contact the company that manages director Alec Smight, his son, but many perspectives are always interesting), and countless others. He's as important to me as Monica Lewis, who's the widow of the late Universal executive Jennings Lang, who shepherded the three Airport sequels, and I learned while skimming the pertinent parts of Lewis's memoir that Lang was thinking about a made-for-cable-TV Airport sequel, but that never panned out. I have to know if he left behind any records that indicated what that would have been about. I think that would be as much a revelation to me as it was to read the ultimately rejected Airport 1976 script at the Academy's Margaret Herrick Library. I also really really need to compliment Monica Lewis on her performances in Airport '77 and The Concorde: Airport '79. It didn't matter that her husband was the executive producer on '77 and the producer on '79. She fashioned two completely different roles, one as the caring flight attendant and the other as a well-known jazz singer going back to Moscow for a homecoming concert, acting opposite Jimmie Walker. She's been a singer since the 1940s, so she knew how to make that voice float, brief as her singing was in that one.
I've still got so many more people to contact, including Erik Estrada and Walker, who I found out has a website, so that'll make it easier. And there's the Vizcaya in Miami, which served as the exterior of the Stevens' mansion at the beginning of Airport '77, that I have to contact to see if they have any historical records of that particular shoot, and I've also got to contact the American Airlines C.R. Smith Museum in Fort Worth, Texas because I didn't get an answer from them via e-mail about whether they have historical records of Charlton Heston and Jack Lemmon training on the 747 simulators for their roles in '75 and '77, respectively. I know that both of them did it (Heston talked about it in his published journals, and Lemmon talked about it in a featurette made to promote '77 at the time of its release, the script of which I read at the Herrick Library), but I'm hoping to find more details. Oh, and Boeing too! I've got to contact them because producer William Frye went to them before '75 and '77 went into production, asking for advice and insight. They told him, before production on '75, that the mid-air transfer was crazy, but Frye, Smight, and company did it. He went back to them before '77, and they asked him, "What are you doing this time?," prefacing that by saying, "I'm not sure Boeing is always happy with me."
That I have to contact the manufacturer of the 747, my favorite plane, is a huge honor and one that still stuns me, which is probably why I haven't done it yet, also because I've got other calls to make first. I was reminded constantly today of why I want to write this book, why I'm doing all this research. It's pure love of the work, of delving more deeply into what still fascinates me after all these years. And to think that this all started from renting the first Airport on videotape (Yes, VIDEOTAPE, young ones) from a Blockbuster in Coral Springs on a rainy night when I was 11, which led to owning all four in a four-tape set with its own box to house all of them. This just makes the movies even better for me.
I decided to read the entire book not because of the research, but because I wrote an essay about the 1968 masterpiece The Swimmer for a collective Online Film Critics Society book that never happened. That was my first time doing research for anything of mine that was going to be put into print, even though it didn't happen, so being completely new to researching for a purpose way beyond getting a good grade in a history class, I overresearched. I tried to watch all of Lancaster's movies, and read all of John Cheever's works. I checked out a collection of Cheever's letters, and also watched every other film directed by Frank Perry, who directed The Swimmer. I had no idea what I was doing, but I thought this was the way to do it. I ended up framing the essay as a memory of when I first saw the movie in 2002 on Turner Classic Movies not long before I graduated high school, and how it affected me so, looking at a life so clearly squandered when I was just getting ready to figure out what I wanted to do with mine.
Having seen a lot of Lancaster's movies for that essay (which I still have and am deciding what to do with it, either find another outlet for it or post it all here), I wanted to see what Buford had written about them, because when I first checked this out from the library, I only went into the section about The Swimmer, nothing else. Ironic, considering what I had done for research, but this was only an essay.
The keyword that comes to mind a lot for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies is "context." I can't just say that Ross Hunter bought the rights to Arthur Hailey's novel, then hired George Seaton, hired the actors, hired the crew, and then they made the movie. I have to know what interested Hunter enough to turn Airport into a movie. I have to know what made him want to hire George Seaton to adapt the novel and direct it. I have to know why these particular actors were cast and if there was anyone else considered for Lancaster's role of Mel Bakersfeld, Dean Martin's role of Vernon Demerest, Jacqueline Bisset's role as Gwen Meighen, and so on. Moreso, why did Dean Martin, Burt Lancaster, Jacqueline Bisset, and all the others want to do it? To give just a little bit, I found out on my research visit to the Margaret Herrick Library that Bisset was under contract to Fox at the time and was loaned out to Universal for this. From the Q&A transcript of the screening that the Academy had in 2006 as part of its "Great to be Nominated" series, I also learned that Bisset doesn't remember much about the production. Actors' lives are indeed very busy.
In Buford's biography, I found out that the cinematographer of Airport had worked with Lancaster on two previous movies, one his directorial debut, The Kentuckian, and the other a six-week stint for Judgment at Nuremberg, though it doesn't sound like Lancaster had spearheaded that project as he did with The Kentuckian. He was fulfilling an obligation. So I wondered: Was that cinematographer suggested by Lancaster for Airport, or was that producer Ross Hunter's decision? Furthermore, Hunter wanted to have the major actors wrapped in three weeks' time, so perhaps Hunter was the one who had decided on Laszlo. Lancaster didn't sound all that involved, particularly because he didn't like the movie, calling it "the biggest piece of junk ever made." And yet, Hunter's power at Universal had severely dwindled because of costly failures like Sweet Charity that found Universal spiraling toward bankruptcy. So either he had decided on Laszlo and had to seek the approval of higher-up executives, or one of those executives thought of Laszlo, though that seems doubtful. But wouldn't you know it, Airport became the biggest hit of 1970 and saved Universal from ruin.
Then there's Whit Bissell, who worked with Lancaster on Brute Force, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, and The Birdman of Alcatraz, who was in the Airport cast, yet didn't work with Lancaster. He was the passenger seated next to Helen Hayes' Ada Quonsett on the fateful Trans Global Flight 2. Was Bissell put forth by Lancaster or was this Hunter again? I'm inclined to believe this was Hunter because Buford gives barely three paragraphs over to Airport, and if Lancaster had been slightly more involved, I think Buford would have found it because this is a very thorough, meticulous, detailed biography of Lancaster.
Reading a healthy chunk of Buford's biography wasn't all I did today. I spent some time in happy disbelief of what I was doing. David Warner played flight engineer Peter O'Neill in The Concorde: Airport '79, so I contacted the L.A.-based management company that oversees him, requesting an interview, figuring also that he might be surprised to find someone not interested in talking about Titanic, as it might very well be for him when the 3D rerelease comes out in April, being that he played Billy Zane's henchman.
I also contacted The Gage Group, which handles Stefanie Zimbalist's career, to confirm that she received my phone number as was requested. I need to interview her father, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., about his role as Captain Stacy in Airport 1975, so I thought it best to contact that agency and seek her out, since her father has no contact information online.
Then came one of the biggest steps I will ever take for my book, one of the two most crucial: I contacted the publicist at Hal Leonard who oversaw the release of Trust Me, George Kennedy's memoir, requesting an extensive interview with Kennedy. I need an extensive interview since he was in all four movies and I have a lot I want to cover, especially about producer Ross Hunter and director George Seaton since they're long gone, as well as director Jack Smight of Airport 1975 (Tomorrow I'll contact the company that manages director Alec Smight, his son, but many perspectives are always interesting), and countless others. He's as important to me as Monica Lewis, who's the widow of the late Universal executive Jennings Lang, who shepherded the three Airport sequels, and I learned while skimming the pertinent parts of Lewis's memoir that Lang was thinking about a made-for-cable-TV Airport sequel, but that never panned out. I have to know if he left behind any records that indicated what that would have been about. I think that would be as much a revelation to me as it was to read the ultimately rejected Airport 1976 script at the Academy's Margaret Herrick Library. I also really really need to compliment Monica Lewis on her performances in Airport '77 and The Concorde: Airport '79. It didn't matter that her husband was the executive producer on '77 and the producer on '79. She fashioned two completely different roles, one as the caring flight attendant and the other as a well-known jazz singer going back to Moscow for a homecoming concert, acting opposite Jimmie Walker. She's been a singer since the 1940s, so she knew how to make that voice float, brief as her singing was in that one.
I've still got so many more people to contact, including Erik Estrada and Walker, who I found out has a website, so that'll make it easier. And there's the Vizcaya in Miami, which served as the exterior of the Stevens' mansion at the beginning of Airport '77, that I have to contact to see if they have any historical records of that particular shoot, and I've also got to contact the American Airlines C.R. Smith Museum in Fort Worth, Texas because I didn't get an answer from them via e-mail about whether they have historical records of Charlton Heston and Jack Lemmon training on the 747 simulators for their roles in '75 and '77, respectively. I know that both of them did it (Heston talked about it in his published journals, and Lemmon talked about it in a featurette made to promote '77 at the time of its release, the script of which I read at the Herrick Library), but I'm hoping to find more details. Oh, and Boeing too! I've got to contact them because producer William Frye went to them before '75 and '77 went into production, asking for advice and insight. They told him, before production on '75, that the mid-air transfer was crazy, but Frye, Smight, and company did it. He went back to them before '77, and they asked him, "What are you doing this time?," prefacing that by saying, "I'm not sure Boeing is always happy with me."
That I have to contact the manufacturer of the 747, my favorite plane, is a huge honor and one that still stuns me, which is probably why I haven't done it yet, also because I've got other calls to make first. I was reminded constantly today of why I want to write this book, why I'm doing all this research. It's pure love of the work, of delving more deeply into what still fascinates me after all these years. And to think that this all started from renting the first Airport on videotape (Yes, VIDEOTAPE, young ones) from a Blockbuster in Coral Springs on a rainy night when I was 11, which led to owning all four in a four-tape set with its own box to house all of them. This just makes the movies even better for me.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
A Potential Addiction Grows
It started with my desire to find a few mystery novel series that I could relate to. I bought a few last year, including The Case of the Missing Books, a Mobile Library Mystery series by Ian Sansom; Dog On It by Spencer Quinn, first in a series about a boozy private detective and his faithful dog, the story told by the dog; and Everywhere That Mary Went by Lisa Scottoline, the first in her "Rosato & Associates" series, which, despite my most fervent love for her books of essays, didn't click with me. Meridith won a paperback copy of The Ritual Bath, the first in the Decker/Lazarus series by Faye Kellerman, but I still haven't read any of those, save for Scottoline's.
I'm not likely to read Michael Connelly or anything in that mainstream vein. I've been looking for mystery novel series that have something I can latch on to, that I could think of as being my series, one or more that I would go back to over and over as new installments are published. I have many favorite books I can go back to for the deep connections I enjoy (I've got a yen to reread Angelina's Bachelors by Brian O'Reilly just to absorb the gentleness of his prose again), but I want characters who last through many books, and as I saw when I began searching, there's a lot of mystery novel series. Whatever interests you, you can probably find it as a mystery novel.
So far, I've found one series, which is Julie Hyzy's White House Chef Mystery series. The White House aspect grabbed me right away, and I know a bit about the history of White House chefs (Not as much, and probably never as much, as Hyzy), so I naturally started with her first one, State of the Onion, which I had bought much earlier last year, but which sat in a stack in my room for months. I pulled it out because I wanted something different, something related to one of my passions in life.
I read State of the Onion in one day. Same with Hail to the Chef, the second installment. Eggsecutive Orders took a day and a half because we were out on errands that particular day, though I did bring it into the Golden Valley Target with me and read some of it while we were sitting at the Starbucks there.
I love this series because Hyzy introduces Ollie Paras as the assistant White House chef, in line to become the new Executive Chef upon the retirement of Henry, a really good man. Ollie knows the importance of serving the First Family, tending to whatever they need, and she doesn't lust after the power that comes with such a huge promotion. I relate to her because she works hard at what she does and is dedicated to it, and treats others equitably, no matter what transpires, such as President Campbell hiring the stuck-up, conceited, nasty Peter Everett Sargeant III as the White House Sensitivity Director. She gets frustrated with that one, but doesn't let it show, nor justified anger, which doesn't happen with her. The job is the highest priority and it must be done with excellent professionalism, which she exudes at all times.
Today in the mail, I received Affairs of Steak, the fifth book in the series and the newest one to be published. I'm still waiting for Buffalo West Wing, which is where I need to continue, and I won't read this series out of order.
As I read Hail to the Chef, I found out that Hyzy has been writing another series, about Marshfield Manor, a stately home turned into a museum, and the main character, Grace Wheaton starts out as an assistant curator, just like Ollie was the assistant chef in the first book. I have great respect for people who reach high positions, yet retain the kindness that they've always exhibited. That's how it is with Ollie, and that's how it sounds with Grace, though I've not yet really gotten into the first novel, Grace Under Pressure, save for the sample pages I read on Amazon which made me order it because it reminded me of the calmness and tranquility of the Nixon Library, Hearst Castle, the Getty Center, and other museums I've been to. Plus, Hyzy is obviously doing something right in her writing since I read her novels in one day.
Lately, I've read Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder by Joanne Fluke, the first in her Hannah Swensen Mysteries series, the center being Hannah's shop, The Cookie Jar, which sells all kinds of cookies, made from some inspired recipes. Fluke's writing is considerably weaker than what Hyzy offers, with some slow-going character development, but I decided to order Strawberry Shortcake Murder, the second novel in the series, after reading Hannah conspiratorially joking with the maid of the society matron of Lake Eden, Minnesota. I get along with anyone, no matter who they are, no matter what their job is. I relate to this completely. I'll try Strawberry Shortcake Murder and see how it goes, whether I want to read the other books in the series. Maybe the writing will get better. I think I was spoiled by State of the Onion being so strong right from the first page.
It appears that Berkley Prime Crime is the chief supplier of my new interest. Fluke's books are published by Kensington, but Hyzy's books are published by Berkley. Plus, there's another series I decided to try by Avery Aames, a Cheese Shop Mystery series, with The Long Quiche Goodbye the first of three books so far. The latest, Clobbered by Camembert, is being released this Tuesday.
On the Prime Crime website, the novels they offer are divided into numerous categories, including "Culinary," "Hobbies," "Private Eye," and "Cozy." Through this, I've found that there's a Fresh-Baked Mystery series by Livia J. Washburn (I read the first page, and the writing doesn't suit me), a Memphis BBQ Mystery series by Riley Adams (Possible, based on the first few pages, but not one I'm going to dive for right away), a Farmer's Market Mystery series by Paige Shelton (I've never been to an honest-to-Organic farmer's market yet, but I want to, in a search for real blackberry jam, so this series interests me), and a Haunted Souvenir series by Christy Fifield, which begins on March 6 with Murder Buys a T-Shirt. This one interests me because it's about a woman who has "inherited her uncle's Florida souvenir shop," according to the copy on the website, and I still have many soft spots for my native state. I'm not sure yet if I'll pre-order it on Amazon, but I want to try out that one.
And there's also the Country Cooking School Mystery series also by Paige Shelton, and two book-themed mystery series: Cat in the Stacks by Miranda James, and Library Lover's Mystery by Jenn McKinlay.
It's fortunate that not all the books listed on the Prime Crime website interest me, though I'm also curious about private eyes, and that opens up another list. It's a near certainty that over the next few months, I will be a resident of Henderson, so, armed with Henderson and Clark County library cards, exploring all these mystery series will be a lot easier on my bank account. Just as I've been writing this entry, I found a series called Maternal Instincts by Diana Orgain, the first novel called Bundle of Trouble. It's about a first-time mother who becomes a private investigator, and I couldn't let that one sit, so I ordered it. That's all I'm going to do right now for this newfound interest until I read the latest two novels in Hyzy's White House Chef Mystery series and her Grace Under Pressure, start on The Long Quiche Goodbye, which I bought last week, and try out Dog On It and The Case of the Missing Books. I don't have any desire to write any type of mystery series (I'm not that brave, and I've got seven nonfiction books to write after I'm done with Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies), but this is a lot of fun. I'm just hoping there's more enjoyable writing to be found through many of these authors.
I'm not likely to read Michael Connelly or anything in that mainstream vein. I've been looking for mystery novel series that have something I can latch on to, that I could think of as being my series, one or more that I would go back to over and over as new installments are published. I have many favorite books I can go back to for the deep connections I enjoy (I've got a yen to reread Angelina's Bachelors by Brian O'Reilly just to absorb the gentleness of his prose again), but I want characters who last through many books, and as I saw when I began searching, there's a lot of mystery novel series. Whatever interests you, you can probably find it as a mystery novel.
So far, I've found one series, which is Julie Hyzy's White House Chef Mystery series. The White House aspect grabbed me right away, and I know a bit about the history of White House chefs (Not as much, and probably never as much, as Hyzy), so I naturally started with her first one, State of the Onion, which I had bought much earlier last year, but which sat in a stack in my room for months. I pulled it out because I wanted something different, something related to one of my passions in life.
I read State of the Onion in one day. Same with Hail to the Chef, the second installment. Eggsecutive Orders took a day and a half because we were out on errands that particular day, though I did bring it into the Golden Valley Target with me and read some of it while we were sitting at the Starbucks there.
I love this series because Hyzy introduces Ollie Paras as the assistant White House chef, in line to become the new Executive Chef upon the retirement of Henry, a really good man. Ollie knows the importance of serving the First Family, tending to whatever they need, and she doesn't lust after the power that comes with such a huge promotion. I relate to her because she works hard at what she does and is dedicated to it, and treats others equitably, no matter what transpires, such as President Campbell hiring the stuck-up, conceited, nasty Peter Everett Sargeant III as the White House Sensitivity Director. She gets frustrated with that one, but doesn't let it show, nor justified anger, which doesn't happen with her. The job is the highest priority and it must be done with excellent professionalism, which she exudes at all times.
Today in the mail, I received Affairs of Steak, the fifth book in the series and the newest one to be published. I'm still waiting for Buffalo West Wing, which is where I need to continue, and I won't read this series out of order.
As I read Hail to the Chef, I found out that Hyzy has been writing another series, about Marshfield Manor, a stately home turned into a museum, and the main character, Grace Wheaton starts out as an assistant curator, just like Ollie was the assistant chef in the first book. I have great respect for people who reach high positions, yet retain the kindness that they've always exhibited. That's how it is with Ollie, and that's how it sounds with Grace, though I've not yet really gotten into the first novel, Grace Under Pressure, save for the sample pages I read on Amazon which made me order it because it reminded me of the calmness and tranquility of the Nixon Library, Hearst Castle, the Getty Center, and other museums I've been to. Plus, Hyzy is obviously doing something right in her writing since I read her novels in one day.
Lately, I've read Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder by Joanne Fluke, the first in her Hannah Swensen Mysteries series, the center being Hannah's shop, The Cookie Jar, which sells all kinds of cookies, made from some inspired recipes. Fluke's writing is considerably weaker than what Hyzy offers, with some slow-going character development, but I decided to order Strawberry Shortcake Murder, the second novel in the series, after reading Hannah conspiratorially joking with the maid of the society matron of Lake Eden, Minnesota. I get along with anyone, no matter who they are, no matter what their job is. I relate to this completely. I'll try Strawberry Shortcake Murder and see how it goes, whether I want to read the other books in the series. Maybe the writing will get better. I think I was spoiled by State of the Onion being so strong right from the first page.
It appears that Berkley Prime Crime is the chief supplier of my new interest. Fluke's books are published by Kensington, but Hyzy's books are published by Berkley. Plus, there's another series I decided to try by Avery Aames, a Cheese Shop Mystery series, with The Long Quiche Goodbye the first of three books so far. The latest, Clobbered by Camembert, is being released this Tuesday.
On the Prime Crime website, the novels they offer are divided into numerous categories, including "Culinary," "Hobbies," "Private Eye," and "Cozy." Through this, I've found that there's a Fresh-Baked Mystery series by Livia J. Washburn (I read the first page, and the writing doesn't suit me), a Memphis BBQ Mystery series by Riley Adams (Possible, based on the first few pages, but not one I'm going to dive for right away), a Farmer's Market Mystery series by Paige Shelton (I've never been to an honest-to-Organic farmer's market yet, but I want to, in a search for real blackberry jam, so this series interests me), and a Haunted Souvenir series by Christy Fifield, which begins on March 6 with Murder Buys a T-Shirt. This one interests me because it's about a woman who has "inherited her uncle's Florida souvenir shop," according to the copy on the website, and I still have many soft spots for my native state. I'm not sure yet if I'll pre-order it on Amazon, but I want to try out that one.
And there's also the Country Cooking School Mystery series also by Paige Shelton, and two book-themed mystery series: Cat in the Stacks by Miranda James, and Library Lover's Mystery by Jenn McKinlay.
It's fortunate that not all the books listed on the Prime Crime website interest me, though I'm also curious about private eyes, and that opens up another list. It's a near certainty that over the next few months, I will be a resident of Henderson, so, armed with Henderson and Clark County library cards, exploring all these mystery series will be a lot easier on my bank account. Just as I've been writing this entry, I found a series called Maternal Instincts by Diana Orgain, the first novel called Bundle of Trouble. It's about a first-time mother who becomes a private investigator, and I couldn't let that one sit, so I ordered it. That's all I'm going to do right now for this newfound interest until I read the latest two novels in Hyzy's White House Chef Mystery series and her Grace Under Pressure, start on The Long Quiche Goodbye, which I bought last week, and try out Dog On It and The Case of the Missing Books. I don't have any desire to write any type of mystery series (I'm not that brave, and I've got seven nonfiction books to write after I'm done with Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies), but this is a lot of fun. I'm just hoping there's more enjoyable writing to be found through many of these authors.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Back to Work After Wriggling Out of Work
After reading Monday Mornings, Dr. Sanjay Gupta's first novel (Very good, and I hope TNT picks up the David E. Kelley pilot titled "Chelsea General," which is based on Monday Mornings, as long as Kelley keeps to what makes the novel satisfying in Gupta's clear-eyed descriptions of his characters, which show off how CNN might have influenced him, since those descriptions could very well have been written by a talented reporter), which capped off a slew of non-work-related reading, I finally got back to doing research for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies.
What took me so long to return to the work? I did eight hours of research at the Margaret Herrick Library on January 10, transcribed my notes almost a week later on the 16th, and then nothing. No continuing City of Dreams: The Making and Remaking of Universal Pictures by Bernard F. Dick, no searching for, and contacting, actors and production crew involved with all four movies (Or at least the families of those, in the case of Airport, some of Airport 1975, and less and less with the last two), no thinking of more questions to ask them if they agree to an interview. I have to contact the Gage Group again to let them know to let Stephanie Zimbalist know that she can contact me whenever she's able, so that I can interview her father, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., who played Captain Stacy in Airport 1975, who was blinded by the mid-air collision.
It's not that I don't want to write this book. I want to be the one to write it, what with how obsessed I was with all four movies when I was in my teen. I have months more research to do before I even write a paragraph. I've written what sounds like the first sentence for my first chapter, but that's all I can do right now. I need to see what information I can get and form my chapters around that, the stories I unearth as I go along. I want them all to be as interesting as learning from George Kennedy's memoir Trust Me that he got to taxi the Concorde that Universal rented for $40,000 an hour for Airport '79. That's the exact story that made me want to write this book.
I shouldn't be screwing around with time like this for two reasons: Once March 21 hits, my deadline of being published again by the time I'm 30 begins. I'll be 28 and have two years left. The second reason is that I have at least seven more nonfiction books I want to write after this, and one novel. This is the only life I have as a writer and I don't want to waste it.
I don't think I really squandered January, though. Ok, in the sense of getting more work done on my book, I did, save for that research visit to the Margaret Herrick Library. But writers and all other artists need inspiration from elsewhere. I've been reading other books, I've been blogging, I came up with ideas for that Walt Disney World-related book and a novel that I think will work out better than the first idea I had for a novel (At least right now, since I have to read the source material that the first idea would be based on), so it hasn't been all in vain. Oh, and there were those two days in Henderson, which were necessary to get to know my new home and get used to continually being happy where I live, so those two days were good training in order to refamiliarize myself with that feeling.
I have to return to self-discipline, though. I finished reading City of Dreams: The Making of and Remaking of Universal Pictures yesterday, I transcribed the notes two hours ago, and I have a yen to read Burt Lancaster: An American Life by Kate Buford not only for the tidbits it has about Airport, but for all of his career, since I read a good deal of it back when there was the possibility of a book of essays from members of the Online Film Critics Society, and I wrote an essay about The Swimmer, starring Burt Lancaster, which made necessary not only reading Buford's book, but also watching a great many of Lancaster's movies. When I did the research for my essay in 2006, I over-researched. I didn't need to watch all his movies; I only needed to know what his career was like in the decades previous to The Swimmer. I did too much for what eventually became 1,477 words. Also, I didn't just read John Cheever's short story on which the movie was based. I tried to read everything he ever wrote, as if something would be revealed that would make it all so easy to see. I was so obviously a neophyte.
When Phil Hall offered me a co-author credit for What If They Lived? and I accepted, I had to throw myself into research right away because at the time, I had a little less than a year to pull everything together and write the essays. The quiet stress of that was horrible, like being back at The Signal as the interim editor of the weekend Escape section. I liked the experience because I could put whatever I wanted in that section, but I couldn't stand that time crunch. It's why I won't go back to journalism, also because I'd be poorer in pocket than I am now. Because of that, I vowed that for my next book, if there was a next book (I didn't have any ideas after I was done with What If They Lived?), I wouldn't let myself be pulled and crushed and tangled up like that. I would work steadily through the research, write the book, and that would be it.
Well, here I am. Second book. Where's the steady workload? I don't see it yet beyond those solid eight hours at the Herrick Library, but I know I should go easier on myself. I had a few necessary and good distractions in January and it's because of this book and the books I want to write in the future that I get out of bed every morning, read, and blog. I want to keep myself limber and enjoy what I'm doing and I'm meeting my personal requirements for both. So I missed a couple weeks last month. The puzzle pieces are still spread out, and just like with my essays on Brad Renfro, Aaliyah, and Heath Ledger for What If They Lived?, I've got to put the puzzle together, which is also what made me want to write this book because I loved having to put the puzzle together for those three essays. I loved gathering information from various sources, and that there wasn't any one solid source from which to draw the information, as there was mostly for my essays on James Dean, Judy Garland, and Marilyn Monroe. I get the chance again to do all that for this book, and, looking at my future book list, for my next seven books.
This is why I'm here. This is what I do. So it's time to continue doing it. An occasional break is fine, but much shorter than what I gave myself in January. That won't happen again. After all, it takes time to put together puzzles like these, and that time is best spent finding the pieces.
What took me so long to return to the work? I did eight hours of research at the Margaret Herrick Library on January 10, transcribed my notes almost a week later on the 16th, and then nothing. No continuing City of Dreams: The Making and Remaking of Universal Pictures by Bernard F. Dick, no searching for, and contacting, actors and production crew involved with all four movies (Or at least the families of those, in the case of Airport, some of Airport 1975, and less and less with the last two), no thinking of more questions to ask them if they agree to an interview. I have to contact the Gage Group again to let them know to let Stephanie Zimbalist know that she can contact me whenever she's able, so that I can interview her father, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., who played Captain Stacy in Airport 1975, who was blinded by the mid-air collision.
It's not that I don't want to write this book. I want to be the one to write it, what with how obsessed I was with all four movies when I was in my teen. I have months more research to do before I even write a paragraph. I've written what sounds like the first sentence for my first chapter, but that's all I can do right now. I need to see what information I can get and form my chapters around that, the stories I unearth as I go along. I want them all to be as interesting as learning from George Kennedy's memoir Trust Me that he got to taxi the Concorde that Universal rented for $40,000 an hour for Airport '79. That's the exact story that made me want to write this book.
I shouldn't be screwing around with time like this for two reasons: Once March 21 hits, my deadline of being published again by the time I'm 30 begins. I'll be 28 and have two years left. The second reason is that I have at least seven more nonfiction books I want to write after this, and one novel. This is the only life I have as a writer and I don't want to waste it.
I don't think I really squandered January, though. Ok, in the sense of getting more work done on my book, I did, save for that research visit to the Margaret Herrick Library. But writers and all other artists need inspiration from elsewhere. I've been reading other books, I've been blogging, I came up with ideas for that Walt Disney World-related book and a novel that I think will work out better than the first idea I had for a novel (At least right now, since I have to read the source material that the first idea would be based on), so it hasn't been all in vain. Oh, and there were those two days in Henderson, which were necessary to get to know my new home and get used to continually being happy where I live, so those two days were good training in order to refamiliarize myself with that feeling.
I have to return to self-discipline, though. I finished reading City of Dreams: The Making of and Remaking of Universal Pictures yesterday, I transcribed the notes two hours ago, and I have a yen to read Burt Lancaster: An American Life by Kate Buford not only for the tidbits it has about Airport, but for all of his career, since I read a good deal of it back when there was the possibility of a book of essays from members of the Online Film Critics Society, and I wrote an essay about The Swimmer, starring Burt Lancaster, which made necessary not only reading Buford's book, but also watching a great many of Lancaster's movies. When I did the research for my essay in 2006, I over-researched. I didn't need to watch all his movies; I only needed to know what his career was like in the decades previous to The Swimmer. I did too much for what eventually became 1,477 words. Also, I didn't just read John Cheever's short story on which the movie was based. I tried to read everything he ever wrote, as if something would be revealed that would make it all so easy to see. I was so obviously a neophyte.
When Phil Hall offered me a co-author credit for What If They Lived? and I accepted, I had to throw myself into research right away because at the time, I had a little less than a year to pull everything together and write the essays. The quiet stress of that was horrible, like being back at The Signal as the interim editor of the weekend Escape section. I liked the experience because I could put whatever I wanted in that section, but I couldn't stand that time crunch. It's why I won't go back to journalism, also because I'd be poorer in pocket than I am now. Because of that, I vowed that for my next book, if there was a next book (I didn't have any ideas after I was done with What If They Lived?), I wouldn't let myself be pulled and crushed and tangled up like that. I would work steadily through the research, write the book, and that would be it.
Well, here I am. Second book. Where's the steady workload? I don't see it yet beyond those solid eight hours at the Herrick Library, but I know I should go easier on myself. I had a few necessary and good distractions in January and it's because of this book and the books I want to write in the future that I get out of bed every morning, read, and blog. I want to keep myself limber and enjoy what I'm doing and I'm meeting my personal requirements for both. So I missed a couple weeks last month. The puzzle pieces are still spread out, and just like with my essays on Brad Renfro, Aaliyah, and Heath Ledger for What If They Lived?, I've got to put the puzzle together, which is also what made me want to write this book because I loved having to put the puzzle together for those three essays. I loved gathering information from various sources, and that there wasn't any one solid source from which to draw the information, as there was mostly for my essays on James Dean, Judy Garland, and Marilyn Monroe. I get the chance again to do all that for this book, and, looking at my future book list, for my next seven books.
This is why I'm here. This is what I do. So it's time to continue doing it. An occasional break is fine, but much shorter than what I gave myself in January. That won't happen again. After all, it takes time to put together puzzles like these, and that time is best spent finding the pieces.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The So-Far Unattainable Peanut Butter Leads to an Attainable Idea
Growing up for a few years as a tyke at Walt Disney World, Mom, Dad and I sometimes went there during the week just for dinner, in addition to going every weekend. Occasionally, we'd have dinner at The Land Pavilion in EPCOT, where I'd add another Mickey-as-the-Sorcerer's-Apprentice figurine to my collection from the kids' meal they offered, which was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and whatever else they offered. I've long forgotten what else was included, because I'm obsessed with finding that peanut butter and making that exact sandwich. (I will also search for that jelly (or jam), but it's a minor consideration at the moment.)
Many years later, whenever Dad and I walked the back end of our Coral Springs neighborhood some nights, passing J.P. Taravella High School, there was a small wooden walkway in place of actual sidewalk in one section, and as we'd walk over it, I'd smell a hint of cigarette smoke from someone who was either there right before us, or even the day before us. Cigarette smoke seemed to linger in that area. Not heavily, but you knew it was there. And whenever I smelled it, it took me right back to Walt Disney World when I was in a stroller and people still smoked throughout the park. It never spurred me on to take up the habit, and I never will, but that peanut butter and jelly sandwich is just like that for me, though far more safer for my health.
I tried asking on the MiceChat Walt Disney World message board, but no luck. Only a few vague answers (Not secretive, but those people were trying to conjure up an answer that wasn't there), the suggestion of Skippy peanut butter being used, and the revelation that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at The Land are now Smuckers Uncrustables. I'm disappointed at that last part because those sandwiches were really special to me. The peanut butter did not taste anything like what we'd buy from Publix or Winn-Dixie. At that age, I just liked those sandwiches, but now, thinking about it in my attempt to search for it, I almost think it was made especially for Walt Disney World, like this kind of peanut butter could not be found anywhere else. It wasn't crunchy peanut butter, I remember that, but even as the smooth kind, it didn't have a hint of sugar. It was straight peanuts made into peanut butter, and it had a certainty about it, a determined taste, like it knew what it was there for and it would not disappoint you. Not that it had any emotional investment in a person's satisfaction with it, but it just seemed that way to me.
There's one thing I plan to try. For the past three years, a blogger named A.J. has run The Disney Food Blog. I've checked for posts about peanut butter and while there has been some mention of peanut butter sandwiches, it's just been listings of kids' menus at certain places that have it, but nothing in detail about peanut butter. Over the next few days (whenever I pull myself away from my book research), I'm going to e-mail A.J. to see if she knows anything about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at Walt Disney World in the late '80s/early '90s based on her own work, or knows of any other Disney foodies who know. I've got to know. I want that taste again.
Because of this quest, I've come up with an idea for yet another book. It won't be about this, but it will be Walt Disney World-related. That's all I'm going to say about it right now because I wouldn't be surprised if this book is already being written by someone else. Every day I visit some website related to the Disney parks, and it's obvious I still have a deep love for all things Disney, which would have to remain since I was born into this.
But without Walt Disney World, I would not have had my first book published last year. I would not be writing entries in this blog. I would not be a writer. Having started reading when I was two years old had something to do with it, but Walt Disney World expanded my imagination, demonstrating that dreams exist side-by-side with reality all the time. I lost count of how many times I went on the Tomorrowland Transit Authority just to sit there, watch the scenery around and below me, and just dream. I watch videos of it on YouTube, going back into that same frame of mind. I use it as inspiration whenever I need it. Sometimes I just watch those videos and mull over my book, thinking of what interview questions to ask those I need as part of my book, thinking of how to frame the chapters, thinking of other details about the making of the Airport movies that would be good for the book.
I need to thank Walt Disney World for what it did for me, for giving me a path to follow in my life, one that has made me very happy, even with all the sometimes-difficult work involved. I get up every morning, I think about the work still to be done for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies, and the books I want to write in the future, and I'm excited to get started on another day of work.
I think this book will clearly and passionately express that, though it won't be the love letter you might expect it to be. It'll be squarely about one of my very favorite attractions there, the creation of it, the changes made over the years, and I think if some of the creative team involved in those changes are still around, there'll be some very interesting stories to unearth. My undying love for my former home (essentially it was, with every weekend spent there) will be found throughout this book by the story I want to tell. I'm thinking of making this my third book, despite the Las Vegas history that I had planned to be my third book. I want to be back at Walt Disney World, and though I can't be there physically right now, this is the other best way to do it.
Many years later, whenever Dad and I walked the back end of our Coral Springs neighborhood some nights, passing J.P. Taravella High School, there was a small wooden walkway in place of actual sidewalk in one section, and as we'd walk over it, I'd smell a hint of cigarette smoke from someone who was either there right before us, or even the day before us. Cigarette smoke seemed to linger in that area. Not heavily, but you knew it was there. And whenever I smelled it, it took me right back to Walt Disney World when I was in a stroller and people still smoked throughout the park. It never spurred me on to take up the habit, and I never will, but that peanut butter and jelly sandwich is just like that for me, though far more safer for my health.
I tried asking on the MiceChat Walt Disney World message board, but no luck. Only a few vague answers (Not secretive, but those people were trying to conjure up an answer that wasn't there), the suggestion of Skippy peanut butter being used, and the revelation that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at The Land are now Smuckers Uncrustables. I'm disappointed at that last part because those sandwiches were really special to me. The peanut butter did not taste anything like what we'd buy from Publix or Winn-Dixie. At that age, I just liked those sandwiches, but now, thinking about it in my attempt to search for it, I almost think it was made especially for Walt Disney World, like this kind of peanut butter could not be found anywhere else. It wasn't crunchy peanut butter, I remember that, but even as the smooth kind, it didn't have a hint of sugar. It was straight peanuts made into peanut butter, and it had a certainty about it, a determined taste, like it knew what it was there for and it would not disappoint you. Not that it had any emotional investment in a person's satisfaction with it, but it just seemed that way to me.
There's one thing I plan to try. For the past three years, a blogger named A.J. has run The Disney Food Blog. I've checked for posts about peanut butter and while there has been some mention of peanut butter sandwiches, it's just been listings of kids' menus at certain places that have it, but nothing in detail about peanut butter. Over the next few days (whenever I pull myself away from my book research), I'm going to e-mail A.J. to see if she knows anything about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at Walt Disney World in the late '80s/early '90s based on her own work, or knows of any other Disney foodies who know. I've got to know. I want that taste again.
Because of this quest, I've come up with an idea for yet another book. It won't be about this, but it will be Walt Disney World-related. That's all I'm going to say about it right now because I wouldn't be surprised if this book is already being written by someone else. Every day I visit some website related to the Disney parks, and it's obvious I still have a deep love for all things Disney, which would have to remain since I was born into this.
But without Walt Disney World, I would not have had my first book published last year. I would not be writing entries in this blog. I would not be a writer. Having started reading when I was two years old had something to do with it, but Walt Disney World expanded my imagination, demonstrating that dreams exist side-by-side with reality all the time. I lost count of how many times I went on the Tomorrowland Transit Authority just to sit there, watch the scenery around and below me, and just dream. I watch videos of it on YouTube, going back into that same frame of mind. I use it as inspiration whenever I need it. Sometimes I just watch those videos and mull over my book, thinking of what interview questions to ask those I need as part of my book, thinking of how to frame the chapters, thinking of other details about the making of the Airport movies that would be good for the book.
I need to thank Walt Disney World for what it did for me, for giving me a path to follow in my life, one that has made me very happy, even with all the sometimes-difficult work involved. I get up every morning, I think about the work still to be done for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies, and the books I want to write in the future, and I'm excited to get started on another day of work.
I think this book will clearly and passionately express that, though it won't be the love letter you might expect it to be. It'll be squarely about one of my very favorite attractions there, the creation of it, the changes made over the years, and I think if some of the creative team involved in those changes are still around, there'll be some very interesting stories to unearth. My undying love for my former home (essentially it was, with every weekend spent there) will be found throughout this book by the story I want to tell. I'm thinking of making this my third book, despite the Las Vegas history that I had planned to be my third book. I want to be back at Walt Disney World, and though I can't be there physically right now, this is the other best way to do it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Movie Dream
I found myself in the lobby of a massive movie theater last night, holding the leash of a fluffy white cat, who seemed content with my company.
I walked into one of the auditoriums, which was equally massive. The screen seemed to stretch the length of a football field, and it wasn't like the old CinemaScope screens. No curves. Completely straight from left to right.
The rows were the same length. I sat in the second row, the cat next to me, and watched what looked like another Simpsons movie. In fact, if the production team of The Simpsons Movie decides to make another one, Another Simpsons Movie would be a perfect title in keeping with their brand of humor.
In another theater, without the cat, I saw The Avengers, which is being released on May 4. My only thought throughout it was, "Doesn't Joss Whedon know how to shut up?" He wrote and directed the movie and it was like his dialogue never let up. It doesn't seem like that'll be the case with the actual release, but I was pretty teed off at having to sit there for what might have been three hours, watching a bunch of superheroes explore more of their emotional minefields than was absolutely necessary for a feature film. It felt like it.
That wasn't even the half of it. Before these movie theater dreams, I had another dream in which I met the cast of The Big Bang Theory, lost a shoe, and watched as Kaley Cuoco unsuccessfully tried to start her junk heap of a car. Jim Parsons seemed put off by all of it (Not possible in real life since he's fascinating to watch in interviews), though Simon Helberg was genial toward me. I have no idea where Kunal Nayyar was, or Johnny Galecki for that matter. So not the entire cast, since Melissa Rauch and Mayim Bialik also weren't there, but I consider Jim Parsons the power center of the show, so it worked out for me.
But this was nothing compared to the dream I had the night before these ones, in which I raved to Wesley Snipes about how awesome he was in Demolition Man and how he seemed to have so much fun doing it. He said to me, "I wouldn't have taken the role otherwise."
In dreams, my head is a fun hangout spot. I've heard about lucid dreaming, controlling your dreams, and it might work, but it's not for me. I spend enough time during the day in control of my reading and my writing, doing what I want to do in both, and what I need to do in order to make progress on my second book. I prefer to give myself over to whatever my dreams have in store, letting my unconscious do the work for a while so I can take a break. With dreams like these, and the ones I described in previous entries, why would I want to control them?
I walked into one of the auditoriums, which was equally massive. The screen seemed to stretch the length of a football field, and it wasn't like the old CinemaScope screens. No curves. Completely straight from left to right.
The rows were the same length. I sat in the second row, the cat next to me, and watched what looked like another Simpsons movie. In fact, if the production team of The Simpsons Movie decides to make another one, Another Simpsons Movie would be a perfect title in keeping with their brand of humor.
In another theater, without the cat, I saw The Avengers, which is being released on May 4. My only thought throughout it was, "Doesn't Joss Whedon know how to shut up?" He wrote and directed the movie and it was like his dialogue never let up. It doesn't seem like that'll be the case with the actual release, but I was pretty teed off at having to sit there for what might have been three hours, watching a bunch of superheroes explore more of their emotional minefields than was absolutely necessary for a feature film. It felt like it.
That wasn't even the half of it. Before these movie theater dreams, I had another dream in which I met the cast of The Big Bang Theory, lost a shoe, and watched as Kaley Cuoco unsuccessfully tried to start her junk heap of a car. Jim Parsons seemed put off by all of it (Not possible in real life since he's fascinating to watch in interviews), though Simon Helberg was genial toward me. I have no idea where Kunal Nayyar was, or Johnny Galecki for that matter. So not the entire cast, since Melissa Rauch and Mayim Bialik also weren't there, but I consider Jim Parsons the power center of the show, so it worked out for me.
But this was nothing compared to the dream I had the night before these ones, in which I raved to Wesley Snipes about how awesome he was in Demolition Man and how he seemed to have so much fun doing it. He said to me, "I wouldn't have taken the role otherwise."
In dreams, my head is a fun hangout spot. I've heard about lucid dreaming, controlling your dreams, and it might work, but it's not for me. I spend enough time during the day in control of my reading and my writing, doing what I want to do in both, and what I need to do in order to make progress on my second book. I prefer to give myself over to whatever my dreams have in store, letting my unconscious do the work for a while so I can take a break. With dreams like these, and the ones I described in previous entries, why would I want to control them?
Monday, January 30, 2012
The Grad Nite Distinction
I ordered The Queen for my DVD binder collection, and received it last week. After putting the DVD into one of the remaining sleeves in my second DVD binder, I noticed a paper insert with the chapter titles and a list of the bonus features, and on the other side, ads for Deja Vu, starring Denzel Washington ("Now On DVD"), and Venus, starring Peter O'Toole ("Coming Soon To DVD").
It reminded me of a distinction I'm proud to have: I attended my Grad Nite at the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in 2002, and I chaperoned Meridith's Grad Nite at Disneyland on June 7, 2007 (I still have the original ticket). But Meridith got the better Grad Nite, though no complaints from me because I got a better Grad Nite through her Grad Nite.
Since I had essentially grown up at Walt Disney World for many years, the one thing I was excited about was bringing along the movies to to be shown during the drive there. In 6th grade, on the end-of-the-year trip to then-Disney-MGM Studios, someone brought Tom & Huck and Cool Runnings. I remember those two, since they came one after the other from 5:30 in the morning until we got to Orlando a little past 9, but I think that The Sandlot was also shown, possibly on the way back. I just remember that every long school trip seemed to include The Sandlot, though that didn't seem to be the case on the 8th grade end-of-the-year trip to the Magic Kingdom, with Men in Black and Mousehunt shown on the way back. But again, I think The Sandlot was part of that, because surely something had to be shown in the morning, and that might have been it.
This time, I was in charge. I brought The Emperor's New Groove, because it's criminally underappreciated, and Toy Story and Toy Story 2. The Emperor's New Groove got some good reaction, though not many of my classmates were paying attention to it, but I did like that I heard one of them laugh loudly after the spider ate the fly and the fly, screeching for help beforehand, said, "Too late."
After putting Toy Story in the VCR and fast-forwarding through the previews, I had to use the bathroom at the back of the bus and while in there, I heard the entire bus sing along to "You've Got a Friend in Me." A great Disney movie (Disney-Pixar in this case) turns us all into kids again, which, to me, is the best way to explore life.
Stopping at Fort Drum for a long break to eat and stretch, I remember that there was a Revenge from Mars pinball machine from which I won a free game, and it was as if the rest stop was prepping me for disappointment. Once at the Magic Kingdom and back in Tomorrowland, my favorite part of the park, I found that the Tomorrowland Transit Authority was closed, because they probably didn't want rowdy teens throwing things down from up high, and Walt Disney's Carousel of Progress was closed, because they probably didn't want rowdy teens damaging the Audio-Animatronics that would be exposed to them. To make it worse for me, the CD jukebox that I loved hearing my favorite songs from throughout the Tomorrowland Light & Power Arcade during a visit in 2000 was shut off. Space Mountain, my favorite ride, was open, but it was a 75-minute wait, so I only got to ride it once. Plus, I had no idea then that that would be my final time at the Magic Kingdom, at Walt Disney World entirely. Our last visit was on July 9, 2003, in Downtown Disney, the day Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl opened in theaters, which I remember very well because Mom and Dad dropped Meridith and I off at AMC Pleasure Island 24 as soon as we got there from South Florida. Dad was presenting at a business education conference, and this was all the time we had. I wanted to see The Curse of the Black Pearl there because it was being digitally projected, and I wanted to know what digital projection was all about. It was in its infancy then, blurry at times, but they were getting there.
We didn't go to the Magic Kingdom on that final visit. No time. I may go back to Florida, to Walt Disney World in the years to come. I know it's changed (I keep up on the latest news out of Walt Disney World), but I want to make up for that utter disappointment. Because of predicted idiots (and there's always a few in every crowd), I lost out on two of my most favorite attractions in Tomorrowland. I hope they're still around whenever I return, though I intend to bring an mp3 player with me, with the Tomorrowland Transit Authority soundtrack I remember, because the current one is garbage, giving nothing but advertisements for all the attractions the average visitor already knows about when they walk into Tomorrowland.
I became a chaperone for Meridith's Grad Nite when I went to Valencia High with her one morning to talk to the teacher in charge of it. It was the one rare time I got up early since I was long done with classes at College of the Canyons, and I hadn't yet reached that long stretch at The Signal, where I eventually became interim editor of the Escape section after the eminent John Boston left after 30 years of service to the paper. I had a lot of time on my hands.
The teacher was fine with me being a chaperone. I asked in April, so I had until June to wait. When it came, that one night, that glorious Thursday night, was everything I had hoped for, and even with the strict rules given about not screwing around, making sure to be back at the bus by 4:30 a.m., and coming to us chaperones if there were any problems, I felt this immense freedom around me, like the earth had sagged in total relaxation, encouraging the same in others. Mom and Dad dropped off Meridith and I at the school, and while Meridith waited for friends, I hung out in the office of the PE teachers with the other chaperones, idly listening to the conversations going on, appreciating how beneficial it is to just be an observer. This was going to be a good crowd. A few looked like veterans of Grad Nite, and knew exactly what they were doing. This would be my first and last Grad Nite as a chaperone because after Meridith, what reason would there be to do this again? I wouldn't have the connection I did by her being in the school, and it wouldn't make much sense otherwise. Besides, it only mattered to me that I got to do this for her Grad Nite.
Someone hung up big signs against a cargo container sitting nearby, with letters to show where each student should line up to get their Grad Nite ticket. A-C last names lined up at the far left and so on. I passed out Grad Nite tickets and joked with the chaperone next to me, who had actually seen Airplane II: The Sequel! I thought I was the only one, and more than that, he liked it too! So we were trading quotes as we passed out the tickets.
Once we got to Disneyland and parked in the lot reserved for the buses, we found that they weren't using the trams to get people to the entrance. We had to walk. It took a good 10 minutes, and I joked around with Meridith and her friends, an easy rapport. And once in the park, we were on our own. Chaperones could be as vigilant as they wished or just check in occasionally at the Plaza Inn, where there was a buffet of cheese cubes, crackers, cookies and brownies for them, as well as the option for either dinner or breakfast from the counter service, and the soda machines were available too. This was where I found most of the chaperones, obviously veterans. They'd done this for years. No need to change what's worked all this time.
Already, I was making up for my crappy Grad Nite just by the amenities alone. But being a Disney nut, I couldn't stay at the Plaza Inn all night. I went on the Haunted Mansion, my favorite ride at Disneyland, once, then went to Tomorrowland, where the theater for Honey, I Shrunk the Audience had only me and about 10 other people in it. They still ran the film.
I liked Honey, I Shrunk the Audience, mainly because of Eric Idle as Dr. Nigel Channing. It was becoming disturbingly dated before Captain EO returned, and I doubt it'll be back after Disneyland feels it has had enough of Captain EO, but it was an excellent respite from the crowds inside the park.
After 2 a.m., I went back to Plaza Inn to get breakfast, a scrambled egg-and-sausage platter that was pretty good. Minute Maid orange juice was in one of the spigots of the drink dispensers, and it's the worst orange juice I've ever tasted, severely watered down and an affront to the oranges used to make it. But that's a minor quibble compared to the complete relaxation I felt. There were no problems from any of the kids, none had reported to the First Aid station, and the night was good.
The reason that paper insert in the DVD case for The Queen reminded me of my distinction is because we chaperones received an additional flyer that detailed the amenities available to us, such as the food, and, in the Main Street Opera House, a caricaturist drawing Disney characters for us (You had to write your name on a sign-up sheet there), and showings of Deja Vu and The Queen. Both had been released on DVD earlier in April, and both were released by Disney, so what better movies for the adults?
In the Opera House, I was disappointed to find that the sign-up sheet for the caricaturist was already completely filled up. No room for me. However, the conversation I had with a couple who were both teachers, who had been chaperoning Grad Nite for many years, made up for that. Inhibitions always lower as time drags on and people become more tired. What I liked most about this couple was honesty you don't readily find in Southern California. The wife told me about past Grad Nites they had chaperoned and entertaining incidents, as well as where she and her husband were teachers. It was one of those conversations where the atmosphere and the company matter more than the details. For a little while, you're connected as a few people in the same position, in the same place, just passing the time enjoyably.
I think I still have that chaperone paper somewhere. All I found on my nightstand today was the guide map, which also listed where the dance areas were, as well as the times for the "Grad Nite Explosion!" fireworks. I don't remember what time they started Deja Vu, but The Queen was being shown at 4:15, which I tried to stay for, waiting inside the theater as the end credits for Deja Vu rolled. But all of us belonging to Valencia High were expected back at the buses before 5 a.m., and I had to do my part in shepherding out the students who I knew to be part of our crowd. Plus, the main souvenir store on Main Street was so dense with people that waiting to pay for anything was nearly impossible. Meridith couldn't get what she wanted to get because of it, because we had to get going. In hindsight, I wish we had stayed and waited because this was Meridith's one chance to do this, at this time, in this instance.
Whereas I had been on an air-conditioned charter bus with TV monitors in the ceiling and a VCR attached for my Grad Nite, Meridith's Grad Nite went with regular school buses. So getting back on board to go back to Valencia High, there was no movie; just the silence of the deadly tired.
These four and a half years later, I still think about that night. There's a play in there somewhere that I'm gradually drawing out. I want to write about that electric feeling throughout the park, so I've been thinking of what situations would make the best drama. Perhaps loaded conversations of some kind. After all, at Grad Nite, the future isn't far behind, graduation from high school and all that; a seismic shift into a world hitherto unimagined while in school.
And I also still think about the chaperones. I was a chaperone just that one time. I'm sure many of the people I saw, perhaps even the couple I talked to, are still doing it, still screwing up their body clocks for that one night. It's only once a year, but it's still a lot to do for just once a year. I remember seeing chaperones also sprawled on the floor in the lobby of the Opera House, sleeping. Those are undoubtedly the ones who have done it before. They've seen it all, and there's nothing new about it.
It's the kind of night I want to replicate somewhere in my writing, that utterly wonderful freedom (yes, despite the rules in place) where I felt like I could wear the Mickey Mouse costume if I asked earnestly enough. I could have skipped past Splash Mountain if I wanted to, counted all the big globe lights lining the walking paths (I lost count), subtly listened in on snatches of conversations around me, which I did while having breakfast outside at the Plaza Inn, though it was so damn cold by then. At 2 in the morning, the air bites at you.
I like to live in between fantasy and reality, taking in each as I see fit. Reality is for the paychecks I receive, the research that is to be done for my next book, and eventually the writing of that book. Fantasy is for the ideas that are still in my head, such as that new novel I want to write one day. I hadn't spent so much time in my head in years as I did today, working out the preliminaries in my head of how I want to tell this story. It's a lot of fun in there, so much space I have to walk around and see the sights as they come, such as that main character for this novel right in front of me. I don't know him well enough yet, but I hope we'll get along easily.
Meridith's Grad Nite doesn't rank as somewhere I like to hang out in my mind, but for just a whiff of inspiration when I need it, it's perfect. It brings me back to growing up for a time at Walt Disney World, where my writing life started before I even knew that I was going to be a writer. It seems that everything in one's life creates such strong roots and vines that things are connected that you never imagined could be. I just go with it, much like I did that night, carried along by sheer joy. It's living at its finest.
It reminded me of a distinction I'm proud to have: I attended my Grad Nite at the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in 2002, and I chaperoned Meridith's Grad Nite at Disneyland on June 7, 2007 (I still have the original ticket). But Meridith got the better Grad Nite, though no complaints from me because I got a better Grad Nite through her Grad Nite.
Since I had essentially grown up at Walt Disney World for many years, the one thing I was excited about was bringing along the movies to to be shown during the drive there. In 6th grade, on the end-of-the-year trip to then-Disney-MGM Studios, someone brought Tom & Huck and Cool Runnings. I remember those two, since they came one after the other from 5:30 in the morning until we got to Orlando a little past 9, but I think that The Sandlot was also shown, possibly on the way back. I just remember that every long school trip seemed to include The Sandlot, though that didn't seem to be the case on the 8th grade end-of-the-year trip to the Magic Kingdom, with Men in Black and Mousehunt shown on the way back. But again, I think The Sandlot was part of that, because surely something had to be shown in the morning, and that might have been it.
This time, I was in charge. I brought The Emperor's New Groove, because it's criminally underappreciated, and Toy Story and Toy Story 2. The Emperor's New Groove got some good reaction, though not many of my classmates were paying attention to it, but I did like that I heard one of them laugh loudly after the spider ate the fly and the fly, screeching for help beforehand, said, "Too late."
After putting Toy Story in the VCR and fast-forwarding through the previews, I had to use the bathroom at the back of the bus and while in there, I heard the entire bus sing along to "You've Got a Friend in Me." A great Disney movie (Disney-Pixar in this case) turns us all into kids again, which, to me, is the best way to explore life.
Stopping at Fort Drum for a long break to eat and stretch, I remember that there was a Revenge from Mars pinball machine from which I won a free game, and it was as if the rest stop was prepping me for disappointment. Once at the Magic Kingdom and back in Tomorrowland, my favorite part of the park, I found that the Tomorrowland Transit Authority was closed, because they probably didn't want rowdy teens throwing things down from up high, and Walt Disney's Carousel of Progress was closed, because they probably didn't want rowdy teens damaging the Audio-Animatronics that would be exposed to them. To make it worse for me, the CD jukebox that I loved hearing my favorite songs from throughout the Tomorrowland Light & Power Arcade during a visit in 2000 was shut off. Space Mountain, my favorite ride, was open, but it was a 75-minute wait, so I only got to ride it once. Plus, I had no idea then that that would be my final time at the Magic Kingdom, at Walt Disney World entirely. Our last visit was on July 9, 2003, in Downtown Disney, the day Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl opened in theaters, which I remember very well because Mom and Dad dropped Meridith and I off at AMC Pleasure Island 24 as soon as we got there from South Florida. Dad was presenting at a business education conference, and this was all the time we had. I wanted to see The Curse of the Black Pearl there because it was being digitally projected, and I wanted to know what digital projection was all about. It was in its infancy then, blurry at times, but they were getting there.
We didn't go to the Magic Kingdom on that final visit. No time. I may go back to Florida, to Walt Disney World in the years to come. I know it's changed (I keep up on the latest news out of Walt Disney World), but I want to make up for that utter disappointment. Because of predicted idiots (and there's always a few in every crowd), I lost out on two of my most favorite attractions in Tomorrowland. I hope they're still around whenever I return, though I intend to bring an mp3 player with me, with the Tomorrowland Transit Authority soundtrack I remember, because the current one is garbage, giving nothing but advertisements for all the attractions the average visitor already knows about when they walk into Tomorrowland.
I became a chaperone for Meridith's Grad Nite when I went to Valencia High with her one morning to talk to the teacher in charge of it. It was the one rare time I got up early since I was long done with classes at College of the Canyons, and I hadn't yet reached that long stretch at The Signal, where I eventually became interim editor of the Escape section after the eminent John Boston left after 30 years of service to the paper. I had a lot of time on my hands.
The teacher was fine with me being a chaperone. I asked in April, so I had until June to wait. When it came, that one night, that glorious Thursday night, was everything I had hoped for, and even with the strict rules given about not screwing around, making sure to be back at the bus by 4:30 a.m., and coming to us chaperones if there were any problems, I felt this immense freedom around me, like the earth had sagged in total relaxation, encouraging the same in others. Mom and Dad dropped off Meridith and I at the school, and while Meridith waited for friends, I hung out in the office of the PE teachers with the other chaperones, idly listening to the conversations going on, appreciating how beneficial it is to just be an observer. This was going to be a good crowd. A few looked like veterans of Grad Nite, and knew exactly what they were doing. This would be my first and last Grad Nite as a chaperone because after Meridith, what reason would there be to do this again? I wouldn't have the connection I did by her being in the school, and it wouldn't make much sense otherwise. Besides, it only mattered to me that I got to do this for her Grad Nite.
Someone hung up big signs against a cargo container sitting nearby, with letters to show where each student should line up to get their Grad Nite ticket. A-C last names lined up at the far left and so on. I passed out Grad Nite tickets and joked with the chaperone next to me, who had actually seen Airplane II: The Sequel! I thought I was the only one, and more than that, he liked it too! So we were trading quotes as we passed out the tickets.
Once we got to Disneyland and parked in the lot reserved for the buses, we found that they weren't using the trams to get people to the entrance. We had to walk. It took a good 10 minutes, and I joked around with Meridith and her friends, an easy rapport. And once in the park, we were on our own. Chaperones could be as vigilant as they wished or just check in occasionally at the Plaza Inn, where there was a buffet of cheese cubes, crackers, cookies and brownies for them, as well as the option for either dinner or breakfast from the counter service, and the soda machines were available too. This was where I found most of the chaperones, obviously veterans. They'd done this for years. No need to change what's worked all this time.
Already, I was making up for my crappy Grad Nite just by the amenities alone. But being a Disney nut, I couldn't stay at the Plaza Inn all night. I went on the Haunted Mansion, my favorite ride at Disneyland, once, then went to Tomorrowland, where the theater for Honey, I Shrunk the Audience had only me and about 10 other people in it. They still ran the film.
I liked Honey, I Shrunk the Audience, mainly because of Eric Idle as Dr. Nigel Channing. It was becoming disturbingly dated before Captain EO returned, and I doubt it'll be back after Disneyland feels it has had enough of Captain EO, but it was an excellent respite from the crowds inside the park.
After 2 a.m., I went back to Plaza Inn to get breakfast, a scrambled egg-and-sausage platter that was pretty good. Minute Maid orange juice was in one of the spigots of the drink dispensers, and it's the worst orange juice I've ever tasted, severely watered down and an affront to the oranges used to make it. But that's a minor quibble compared to the complete relaxation I felt. There were no problems from any of the kids, none had reported to the First Aid station, and the night was good.
The reason that paper insert in the DVD case for The Queen reminded me of my distinction is because we chaperones received an additional flyer that detailed the amenities available to us, such as the food, and, in the Main Street Opera House, a caricaturist drawing Disney characters for us (You had to write your name on a sign-up sheet there), and showings of Deja Vu and The Queen. Both had been released on DVD earlier in April, and both were released by Disney, so what better movies for the adults?
In the Opera House, I was disappointed to find that the sign-up sheet for the caricaturist was already completely filled up. No room for me. However, the conversation I had with a couple who were both teachers, who had been chaperoning Grad Nite for many years, made up for that. Inhibitions always lower as time drags on and people become more tired. What I liked most about this couple was honesty you don't readily find in Southern California. The wife told me about past Grad Nites they had chaperoned and entertaining incidents, as well as where she and her husband were teachers. It was one of those conversations where the atmosphere and the company matter more than the details. For a little while, you're connected as a few people in the same position, in the same place, just passing the time enjoyably.
I think I still have that chaperone paper somewhere. All I found on my nightstand today was the guide map, which also listed where the dance areas were, as well as the times for the "Grad Nite Explosion!" fireworks. I don't remember what time they started Deja Vu, but The Queen was being shown at 4:15, which I tried to stay for, waiting inside the theater as the end credits for Deja Vu rolled. But all of us belonging to Valencia High were expected back at the buses before 5 a.m., and I had to do my part in shepherding out the students who I knew to be part of our crowd. Plus, the main souvenir store on Main Street was so dense with people that waiting to pay for anything was nearly impossible. Meridith couldn't get what she wanted to get because of it, because we had to get going. In hindsight, I wish we had stayed and waited because this was Meridith's one chance to do this, at this time, in this instance.
Whereas I had been on an air-conditioned charter bus with TV monitors in the ceiling and a VCR attached for my Grad Nite, Meridith's Grad Nite went with regular school buses. So getting back on board to go back to Valencia High, there was no movie; just the silence of the deadly tired.
These four and a half years later, I still think about that night. There's a play in there somewhere that I'm gradually drawing out. I want to write about that electric feeling throughout the park, so I've been thinking of what situations would make the best drama. Perhaps loaded conversations of some kind. After all, at Grad Nite, the future isn't far behind, graduation from high school and all that; a seismic shift into a world hitherto unimagined while in school.
And I also still think about the chaperones. I was a chaperone just that one time. I'm sure many of the people I saw, perhaps even the couple I talked to, are still doing it, still screwing up their body clocks for that one night. It's only once a year, but it's still a lot to do for just once a year. I remember seeing chaperones also sprawled on the floor in the lobby of the Opera House, sleeping. Those are undoubtedly the ones who have done it before. They've seen it all, and there's nothing new about it.
It's the kind of night I want to replicate somewhere in my writing, that utterly wonderful freedom (yes, despite the rules in place) where I felt like I could wear the Mickey Mouse costume if I asked earnestly enough. I could have skipped past Splash Mountain if I wanted to, counted all the big globe lights lining the walking paths (I lost count), subtly listened in on snatches of conversations around me, which I did while having breakfast outside at the Plaza Inn, though it was so damn cold by then. At 2 in the morning, the air bites at you.
I like to live in between fantasy and reality, taking in each as I see fit. Reality is for the paychecks I receive, the research that is to be done for my next book, and eventually the writing of that book. Fantasy is for the ideas that are still in my head, such as that new novel I want to write one day. I hadn't spent so much time in my head in years as I did today, working out the preliminaries in my head of how I want to tell this story. It's a lot of fun in there, so much space I have to walk around and see the sights as they come, such as that main character for this novel right in front of me. I don't know him well enough yet, but I hope we'll get along easily.
Meridith's Grad Nite doesn't rank as somewhere I like to hang out in my mind, but for just a whiff of inspiration when I need it, it's perfect. It brings me back to growing up for a time at Walt Disney World, where my writing life started before I even knew that I was going to be a writer. It seems that everything in one's life creates such strong roots and vines that things are connected that you never imagined could be. I just go with it, much like I did that night, carried along by sheer joy. It's living at its finest.
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