Rodger Ebert R.I.P.

Americana, Art

cancer_cant_force_roger_ebert_to_fear_deathI just learned that Rodger Ebert died. The world is a lesser without him. I have never met him, and I am not sure that I ever saw him on TV, but his writings were a big influence in my love of movies.

In the very early 70’s, I subscribed to The New Yorker to read Pauline Kael’s reviews but it wasn’t until I started reading Ebert that I found somebody who whole-heartily, unabashedly, loved movies. His reviews echoed that love. I think that alot of people say that they love movies, but they really only love certain kinds of movies, they only love movies that agree with them. Ebert seemed to love all kinds of movies.

American movies are a collective, most American Art. They cost alot of money to make, even cheap ones, so they – by and large – have to be directed towards the mainstream, meaning they can’t afford the personal indulgences of, say, painting or photography. I think that Ebert loved American Movies because he loved America, because he had a generosity of spirit toward the American quilt. He had his complaints  he wanted things to be better, but he seemed to embrace America, warts and all.

Anybody who loves movies will miss him. My heart goes out to Chaz, his wife. Rest In Peace.

 

Death Valley Easter Trip 2013: Systems Failure

California, Camping, Death Valley

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Gina Matesic, Courtney Gonzales, JR Grubbs, Michele, and I met at Michele’s family cabin late Thursday night so we would be ready to go to death Valley early the next day. The forecast had been for snow showers but Thursday night/Friday morning never got down to freezing and Friday was mostly clear (both the sky and the roads). It was a great weather to start a trip. We got coffee to go in Tahoe City and started around the lake full of big smiles.

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Then a funny thing happened; the heater core blew. We had just started out, admiring the color of lake Tahoe when a cloud of steam explode from the heater, fogging the windshield and sending green iridescent coolant running all over the floor. My first reaction was that the trip was off but everybody else’s reaction was How can we work around this problem and get going? 

Courtney – I think – found a nearby garage with an excellent reputation  and we called AAA for a short tow. By the time we got to the garage, we had talked about the problem and I was convinced that the heater core was probably the problem and the easiest, cheapest, fix was to bypass it. (The night before had been about 36°F and I love that the receptionist at the garage told me, Now that it is warm, you really don’t need a heater. I agreed because we were going to the desert but 36°F is heater temperature to me; people in the mountains are tougher, I guess.) As it was almost time for lunch and we followed the mechanic’s recommendation to have a nice lunch at a local Thai diner.

Eurotech – the garage (at 848 Tanager St, Incline Village) – thought they could have us back on the road by 2:00 PM. Before we even got back from lunch, we saw them test driving the repaired car. They even replaced a burned out tail-lamp that I had mentioned. From the disaster of a failed trip to back on the road in less than three hours with a cost about $125.00 was an amazing turn around. I highly recommend Eurotech.

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We were on our way, late, but not terminally late and anxious to get to the desert. Tahoe still looked magnificent – with a thin line of fog giving it mystery as we drove down the east side, and over Spooner Summit into Nevada and the Carson Valley.

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Then disaster! The radiator intake line blew, sending coolant all over the engine and clouds of steam out from under the hood. We were again stranded, this time in Nevada at Bodine’s Casino. Sitting in Bodine’s parking lot with steam coming out from under the hood, we found out that our biggest water container was leaking, lots of stuff was damp, and we would need to stop at some time and get some more water.

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Two connected problems are often a sign that something more basic is wrong and my interpretation was that the hoses were old and failing at about the same time. Those of you who know cars, might be thinking of something more serious but I was still in denial. I had just spent almost $1,000 having Sunset Garage check out the Rover for the trip because I was worried about the belts and hoses being old and brittle and they assured me that they had checked everything and the truck was good to go.

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But, what the hell, an upper radiator hose is probably the easiest thing to fix under the hood and JR and Courtney drove a couple of miles to the nearest car parts store and got a flexible hose. We were back on our way in less than two hours and less than twenty bucks. We must have driven atleast five miles before another hose broke. Shit! Unbelievable!

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I was ready to throw in the towel at this point but JR lead a revolt to solve the problem once and for all by renting another SUV and having my poor truck towed back to Euroteck. These guys really wanted to get to the desert and were willing to move heaven and earth to make it happen. They went back into Carson City to Hertz to get another SUV while Gina, Michele, and I waited for AAA.

While we were waiting, Galen – a perfect stranger in the best way – drove up in his semi-tricked out Land Rover and told us about a mechanic who specialized in 4×4 vehicles used off road, named Hollars Automotive And 4 Wheel Drive, that was only ten miles down the road in an old gas station. By this time, AAA was starting to say that they could not get a truck there to tow us back to Euroteck until the next day and would I please wait by the side of the road – or come back tomorrow – until they got there.

It seemed a no-brainer, we had the Range Rover towed to Hollars, climbed into the two SUV’s – using the term very loosely, on one of them – and started driving, in the dark now, south.1  When we got to Bishop, everything but a Pizza Parlor was closed – and their pizza oven was shut down – so we ate pasta there and drove on to the Eureka Valley to find a place to camp. We woke up the next morning in a different world. In my case, in a different world with a deflated airmattress.

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1. This makes it sound much easier than it was, not easier really – because it was easy – but less stress free than it really was. I was going into shock, my faithful truck was self  destructing, money was being spent that I hadn’t counted on spending and didn’t want to spend, and it was getting later and later.

Next: Eureka valley here

 

A couple of Immigration Ceremony photographs

Americana

Marianne-7471Yesterday, there was a picture gallery of new US Citizens in The Guardian. They had just been sworn in as naturalized citizens and it reminded me of the only Immigration Ceremony that I have seen. It was in November of 2006. Michele and I had gone to see Marianne Nannestad become an United States Citizen. A United States Citizen having all the rights that I was born with and often don’t appreciate.

The Ceremony started out much differently than I expected. It was  instructive, informative and legalistic with lots of detailed instruction rather than celebratory;  it bordered on being jingoistic.

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I have read that an organization is dead when it worries more about keeping people out more than it worries about trying to get more people in. While there are people in our country who feel that way, they are in a – shrinking, I hope – minority.

Towards the ceremony’s climax, the presenter, read a list of countries – in alphabetical order from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe including Great Britain from which there seemed to be a surprising (to me) number of   people – that the immigrants were from. As the country was named the immigrants from that country stood and remained standing until the whole class -group? – was standing. Then the soon to be Citizens repeated the Oath of Citizenship that has remained unchanged since George Washington wrote it.

I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

In the end, it was very very moving. I left thrilled that I live in this great country that doesn’t just tolerate immigrants but still wants them.

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Thoughts on brown dress shoes at the start of the F1 season

Uncategorized

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Formula 1 is a distinctly English sport. It is billed as being international but eight out of the eleven teams are based in England (two are based in Italy, and one is based in Switzerland). Even the head track engineer for Ferrari, based in Italy – duh! – is English (Pat Fry). The guy who runs the Mercedes Team, Ross Brawn, is English. On NBC, F1’s new US home, the technical broadcast voice, Steve Matchett is English.

Yesterday, while watching a promo to the Malaysian Grand Prix, I noticed that NBC  has their announcers wear navy blue suits with white shirts and a tie of their choice. I also noticed that the two non-English announcers were wearing black shoes with their blue suits and Steve Matchett, the English guy, was wearing brown shoes with his blue suit.

About forty years ago, I started wearing – some might even say affecting – cowboy boots. This was before George Bush the Younger burst onto the national stage with his cowboy boots, so it was acceptable. (I think, I was copying Lyndon Johnson and Sam Rayburn, who I admired.) Anyway, a very nice pair of brown goat Lucchese boots were my favorites and I took them to England, on a trip, as my dress shoes. Several people, here, remarked that brown shoes may not be dressy enough for London but I had seen lots of pictures of men wearing brown shoes with suits in England – including prince Charles and, now, Steve Matchett – so I felt safe.

While in London, we rode the The Underground almost everywhere – it is probably more accurate to say that we only went where we could go by The Underground – and I noticed that the cars had grooming tips mixed in with the adds above the windows. This was when Prince Charles was trying to save the proper England and was campaigning against modern architecture and gauche – read modern – behavior. The grooming tips were like Gentlemen wear shirts with collars and – the one I remember the most said something like Gentlemen never wear brown shoes after 6 PM.  It turns out that to be proper in England, a Gentleman should wear brown shoes – or boots? – before 6 PM but not after. I was glad to see that Steve Matchett, the only Englishman on the broadcast team, is still following the rules even if I wasn’t.