All posts by Steve Stern

Henry Hill died

Around home, Film, Psychological Musings

Henry Hill was a low level Mafioso in the Lucchese crime family. He became famous because, when he ratted out his buddies to the FBI, he ended up having two movies tell his story. Both Goodfellas and My Blue Heaven were roughly based on his life (My Blue Heaven more roughly). Goodfellas was Michele and my first date.

I once heard Pauline Kael  say that she would never date anybody who didn’t like the same movies that she did. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, and it still does. Our second movie was La Femme Nikita. 

A year or so later, still together and still enjoying the same movies, we went to see a revival of  The Wild Bunch at the Castro in San Francisco. Standing in line, we noticed two acquaintances we had met in Temenos workshops, Peter Kuhlman and Ophelia Ramirez, and we knew we would become friends.

 

Why some people – at least me (I, ?) – get mad at the government

Americana, Politics

Michele Leohart is an administrator in the DEA and, maybe, she is stoned and that is her excuse for her ridiculous answers. But I doubt it, I think the real reason is the Washington culture that actually prevents honesty and introspection. In this case, thanks to Congressman Jared Polis for doing what our Congresspeople should actually be doing.

Summer Solstice 2012

Around home, Current Affairs, Photography

Michele planned the return from her trip to Ireland so she could be there for the solstice (and spend some time with her step-sister). Yesterday, she went to see the Drombeg stone circle near Baltimore and liked it so much she went back this morning at 5 AM for the Summer Solstice Sunrise. Yesterday, it was clear and green and very Irish and this morning, after getting up in the middle of the night and driving for an hour, the sunrise was fogged in and – I guess – still very Irish.

Of course she had her iPhone and, of course, she had her handy App that tells her where the sun is coming up – or the moon, or Jupiter –  and, of course, it works in Ireland.

As an aside, I have never been to Ireland and have no connection with it but I do know all the Counties around Baltimore; County Cork, County Kerry, County Clare, County Limerick, County Tipperary,  County Kilkenny, County Waterford. I don’t think that there is any other place in the world where the names are that famous. Not Paris, not New York, not even London. It is very strange. End aside.

Twenty three and a half hours later, I was watching the Summer Solstice Sunset

 

cast its alpenglow on the buildings of San Francisco.

As the light faded, wisps of fog came in softening the scene and dropping the temperature. A very San Francisco Solstice.

 

 

 

Happy Father’s Day 2012

What's a man?

Alfred J. Stern 1906 -1968

How strong you looked standing in the shower,
with your barrel chest, your solid body, your big purple cock.
How weak and boyish I felt, with my puny body and toy weeny.
How ashamed I was when you laughed at my chicken breasts.
How trivial I felt.

But that was before I knew of your pain. Your isolation. Your failed dreams.
You were like a god. A gladiator. Invincible.
The hair on your arms was like a bear.
When you kissed me, your face rasped like a file.
How I felt I disappointed you. I was only a boy, worse, a mama’s boy.
When you didn’t talk to me, I knew it was my weakness.
But that was before I knew of your isolation. Your failed dreams.

I felt you didn’t protect me, because I wasn’t worth protecting.
Didn’t include me because I wouldn’t ever be a man.

But that was before I knew of your failed dreams.
How hard it must have been. Looking like a man outside.
Being afraid to even see your own fear.

I know. I have tried to hide my fear. I have been afraid to look weak.
Trying to show only strength. Thinking I have none. Thinking I am lying.
How lonely it must have felt. Hoarding those fears. Feeling you are alone.
Knowing only your own self loathing. Rejecting your own pain. Your own imperfection.

I know. I’ve lived in my own nest of self hate.
I’ve lived without accepting myself enough to look inside.
I’ve lived alone. Hiding. Afraid.

How weak you were. How afraid. How hard it must have been to pass on your strength. Your teaching.
I love you, Daddy. For your gifts. Fear, isolation, strength. The insight to know the difference.
I love you for your sacrifices.