Monday, October 29, 2012

I'm not Pro-Choice - I'm Pro-Freedom



I’m not “Pro-Choice” – I’m “Pro-Freedom”

Note:  This is another one of my serious blogs.  Feel free to read...or not.

I didn’t know her name.  She stood at my bus stop day after day and I didn’t know her name and I didn’t WANT to know her name.  You see, my “bus time” is MY TIME.  I do not, repeat, DO NOT want a “Bus Buddy.”  You know the person, they see you on the bus and can’t wait to sit next to you and tell you about their evening or their weekend or whatever.  It’s not that I’m not friendly, nay, I’m VERY friendly.  Gregarious in fact.  Willing to say hi to a stranger, chat a person up in an elevator.  But “bus time” is MY TIME and I have my routine.  My seat.  My meditation (ie: sleep) and I don’t want to be taken out of that.  You could be the bestest person in the whole wide world but I need my 20-to-30 minutes of bus time.

Still, we said nothing.  She’d read and I’d wait.  The bus would come, we’d get on.  She, obviously, didn’t need or want a “bus buddy” either.  Unsaid rules were set and we got along just fine.

One day, though, it was obvious that I would have to speak to her.  Our bus was running substantially late and there’s only so much staring at your feet that one can do (and I was good at it) until the awkwardness of both of us looking up the street to see no bus coming was finally going to reach its max.

So as she cradled whatever book she was reading, I leaned in and said:  “Good book?”  She looked at me and loudly said:  “Well....not the book I should be reading!”  Okay...I’ll bite.  “And what book is that?”  “How to deal with breast cancer!”  And there it was.  A woman who I didn’t even know her name was telling me that she had breast cancer.  SIGH.  So now we had something to talk about and she soon became my “bus stop buddy” meaning we’d chat at the bus stop but, when the bus arrived, we’d go to our seats and not talk again until 7 a.m. the next morning.  I never did find out her name.

But that’s the thing with me.  I either have a face that says “trust me, tell me you have issues” or I ask the right questions to people to have them tell me their issues.  Like:  “Good book?”  What IS it with me?  Why do people open up to me? 

Don’t get me wrong...this is not a complaint.  Trust me, it’s not.  I LOVE that people open up to me.  As a writer and an observer of people, I like to hear what people have to say about themselves and their lives.  I’ve even got a handful of questions that are great openers to get people to open up.  One of the best is when you meet a couple and ask them:  “How did you meet?”  There’s ALWAYS a story.

And then I do a crazy thing...I listen.  I do what is referred to as “active listening.”  What this means is that you actually LISTEN.  You don’t steer the story to yourself and your life.  You don’t give advice or ask inane questions about something that doesn’t make sense – you listen to what they have to say and you find words in what they said and repeat them back in the form of another question.  So back to the “How did you meet?”  Let’s say their response is:  “Well, when I was stationed up at a Navy base in Alaska – we used to go into town to a bar called The Barnacle and she was working there...”  Maybe my next question would be:  “How long were you in the Navy?”  or  “Did you ever go back to Alaska?”  or “Was The Barnacle a dive?”  Typically most people would say something like:  “I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska.”  You see, that’s wrong.  First, it’s not a question and, second, it’s about YOU, not THEM.

Once the second question is asked, this continues with more active listening.  Ideally in a 20 minute conversation I speak for maybe 2 minutes, they speak for 18.   You don’t learn about someone and their life when it’s reversed.  And you, certainly, don’t make it about YOU – you make it about THEM.

I’ve had these skills for as long as I can remember and I think it’s a combination of these skills that enables people to want to interact with me.  It’s like I have a special “good listening” sense or something.  And I have been doing this for years and you’d be amazed at what people are willing to tell you about their hopes, dreams, fears, fantasies, sex life, secrets, etc.  Obviously there needs to be a level of trust, too.

Barbara was one of those friends.  I had, actually, sworn off any more friends.  Literally, I had said to myself that I was done with being the therapist for everyone I knew.  Though I enjoyed it, it does sap one’s energy to active listen and, damn it, sometimes I need some ME time.  But, as these things go, I couldn’t walk away.

Barbara worked for a company that my company worked with.  We would call them and order up boxes.  Each call would take a few minutes because they’d have to look up the number, see if we had the box already, double check, ask a few questions of when the box is needed, etc.  This leaves “gaps” in the conversation and I’m not one to not fill a gap with inane jabber.  So a typical call would go like this:

“This is Barbara – how can I help you?”
“Hey Barbara, this is Matt Terry.  How’s it goin’?”
“Good.  What can I get for you?”
“Can you send over box 1234 and 1235 on a RUSH basis, please?”
“Hold on, let me check...”
This would then be the pause as she’d punch numbers in the computer and it would do whatever.  In these pauses, I would then say things like: 
“Got any plans for the weekend?”  or  “Are you and the hubby doing anything?”  or  “Seen any movies lately?”
Of course with my “active listening” brain the answer to these questions would then spring MORE questions and I would ask those.

Over the time of about 6 months, and though I had sworn off friends, Barbara and I became good friends.  Now, I had never met her in person.  Didn’t really know what she looked like.  But we chatted and laughed and talked about all sorts of things...and here’s what I learned:

She was in a terrible marriage.
Her husband had stolen all their money and invested it in Amway and lost it all.
She was not happy with him, or her job.
They had not had “relations” for over 2 years.
She was suffering from depression.
She needed to get out.

Now, there’s a common rule that I follow and that is to not give advice unless asked.  Listening is always the best practice.  Giving advice isn’t necessarily the best practice but often times they would ask and if they did I would give it.  My suggestions were to see a REAL therapist, talk to her family, and get out of this marriage as quickly as possible.

She followed through and kicked the thieving bastard to the curb where he belonged.  She was now a single woman on the make who had not been intimate with a man in over 2.5 years now and was ready to enter the dating pool again.  Good for her.

One morning, as she was rushing out of her house, she locked her keys in her car and had to call a lock-smith to help her.  When the knight-in-shining armor came out she felt smitten by this handsome guy helping her out and she tossed out the idea for them to go out on a date.  He took her up on the offer and they soon went out.

With years of pent-up libido and a new-found freedom in grasp, she slept with him.  She was on the pill so she knew she wouldn’t get pregnant and it was only the one time...alas...she got pregnant.

When she told him, he denied everything, accused her of trying to get at his “family fortune” – if one even existed and treated her like a pariah.  He would have nothing to do with her or his baby.  She was stuck.  Finally after years of pain and suffering at thieving husband – she finally experiences another night with a man and gets pregnant.  With her whole life ahead of her – this guy wanted nothing to do with her or the baby and she couldn’t afford to raise the child by herself.  She chose to have an abortion.

We talked at length about her choices.  I did what I did best.  I listened.  This wasn’t an easy choice by her.  This wasn’t “abortion as birth control” and she knew that it would devastate her in a number of ways both physically and mentally.  Her family wasn’t going to be there for her – and, obviously, neither was the “father.”  Once she had made her decision, she had no one else to take her to the clinic, so I volunteered.

The procedure didn’t take long.  Fifteen minutes, tops.  Afterwards we rode silently, to a local Denny’s where we chatted a bit.  It’s been so long and the conversation so meaningless that I don’t remember what we said.  I probably said some platitudes but we might as well have talked about the weather or colored pinwheels.  I do know that I offered to take her home but she said she was “okay” and we went our separate ways.

Over the next few months she took more control of her life.  Quit her job, found a new job, commuted many miles, dated, fell in love, fell out of love, found another love – dated some more.  And then we lost touch and I haven’t heard from her in years.  Don’t know if she’s living or dead...wish I knew.

*****

One of the biggest issues I have when it comes to abortion or gay rights is that many of the people who are making/voting/creating the decisions don’t know anyone who has had an abortion or don’t know anyone who is gay...so they get their “facts” from whatever they’re told or whatever they believe through some archaic concept that doesn’t hold up to the reality of the loving gay couple next door – or the struggling twenty-something still dealing with the guilt of an abortion.

This blog, in my own little way, is to put a face on the reality that is abortion.  I’m not trying to say it’s right or it’s wrong but my goal is to clear away what I think is a common misconception about abortion and that it’s equivalent to going down to Starbucks and buying a double latte.  I will be very clear, I’m not for abortion as a form of birth control – but that is often the image that is given by abortion foes.  Like it’s a walk in the park.  Trust me...it's not.

In 2011 Florida made a rule that all persons on welfare should be drug tested.  The thought was that if you’re being given money by the government, the government shouldn’t pay for your drug habit.  On paper, or as a Facebook meme, this sounds completely and totally logical.  You don’t want druggies on the government’s dime.  An idea that people can soundly get behind because, in a lot of ways, it makes sense.

Here’s what happened.  The state of Florida spent MILLIONS of dollars to find out that 2% of welfare recipients were using drugs.  Millions of dollars to save a couple hundred thousand dollars.  Dollars that could have been spent on drug education.   Schools.  Job incentive programs.  Anything else.  But the residents of Florida were so bent on culling those drug addicts from the state rolls that they spent a huge amount of money to find out only 2% were guilty.  Then the question begs:  Who was the drug company?  Oh, yeah, the drug company had a relationship with the Governor’s wife – or something like that.  So this drive to find waste – wasted millions while politicians got rich.  So was this really about saving a dime or....what?

Again, when people hear about women having abortions, or gay people wanting to get married, often times the perception the people who are against this have some one-dimensional mind set.  ARE there people who use abortion as a form of birth control?  I’m sure there are.  But I bet it’s less than 2%.  Are there sketchy gay people out there?  I’m sure there are.  But I bet it’s less than 2% (and there are far more sketchy straight people out there than 2%).

Like turning up the radio in your car to drown out that annoying noise that the engine is going to fall out – I see people who hold stories like this at arm’s length.  They don’t want to hear the heartbreaking story of the young girl raped.  They don’t want to hear the story of the recently divorced woman sowing her oats and being lied to.  They don’t want to move beyond their 1-dimensional view point to see the layers of gray that might exist.

Lastly...if abortion is so important to some people...I simply ask this:  The woman has the baby.  Then what?

What about the father of said child?  Where are the laws punishing him?  If this woman is forced to carry the baby to term then what of the father?  Chemical castration?  Forced payments to the mother and child?  The fact that the father is never brought into the equation is shocking to me.  It’s as if the woman got pregnant all on her own.

What about the health of the child?  If this child is to be born and be born healthy, what is being done by this government to provide for that child?  Pre-natal vitamins, pre-natal health screenings, doctor’s appointments, birthing process, post-natal care, doctor visits for the child and the mother, etc.  I see a strong (very strong) disconnect between when the child is in the womb and once the child is out.

Now the child is going to school.  What is this government’s role in terms of education?  Both primary and secondary?  If the government wants to take such a strong role while the child is “in the womb” what about when the child is “out of the womb?”  What is being done?

If the child is going to be put up for adoption, what has the government done to streamline this process?  How much easier is it for potential parents to be screened?  How are the costs being kept low?  What rules are in place so the transition is a speedy one?

It is, in my opinion, extremely disingenuous, to force a woman to have a child possibly against her will and then turn your back on her the moment the child is born.  Show me how the above is in place.  Show me how the above is being dealt with.  Show me the legislature to bring to justice and throw in jail these lock-smiths who think they can just get a woman pregnant and walk away.  Oh, that’s right; they can get a woman pregnant and walk away.

As the political discourse was ramping up recently, I would post photos on Facebook with the simple caption of “Yep.”  I soon, though, decided to change it to “Something to think about.”  Why?  Well, it’s easy for someone who disagrees with me to bypass a photograph with the word “Yep” but to bypass something that is asking them to “think” makes me think that they might not want to deny not thinking.  In other words – I don’t think there’s anyone out there who would look at a photo I would post and say:  “I don’t want to think about it.”  That would be sort of snobby...

When I hear factions talk about “pro life” and “pro choice” – I’ve often see the words “pro choice” as kind of the loser in that phrasing.  “Pro life” sounds so affirmative while “pro choice” sounds like you’re all for deciding between Coke and Pepsi.  I hereby say that I’m not “pro choice” – I’m “pro freedom.”  Freedom of choice.  Freedom for a woman to choose what SHE wants to do based on her age, health, job, life, children, husband, doctor, faith.  Freedom for people to love and marry who they want.  If the “pro life” people want to say that they’re “anti freedom” then they certainly have the right to do so.


Thursday, October 18, 2012

Airport Film Reviews




The fog was thick.  Thick as I could remember as we drove to SeaTac airport that night.  You could barely see three feet in front of the car.  Much like driving that old video game “night rider” where all you saw were the reflective rectangles of the roadside posts – going in I knew we were going to be there for a long while.

My step-father had flown back to Minnesota to attend his mom’s funeral and his flight was due back that evening.  I was probably 14 or so – maybe younger – it’s so long ago now that it’s all a blur.

We finally parked and went into SeaTac and found out, not to our surprise, that the flight arrival was delayed.  It was circling or something and would hopefully land soon.  Within an hour, or so, we were told that the flight was going to fly down to Portland and the airline would bus everyone back up to SeaTac.  So for what it’s worth – we had four+ hours to hang out at the airport.  Woo-Hoo!

This was back in the day, though, when you could take the underground tram to all the satellite departure/arrival decks.  This was back in the day where you could watch huge jumbo jets from far-off worlds land and take off.  This was back in the day when you could wait patiently, eyes fixed on the passengers coming up the far off ramp looking for that face, those eyes, that smile.  Now it’s like being stuck in an over-priced mall waiting for your loved ones by an absurd amusement park carousel ride for luggage.

While my mother and I took our time waiting, we met up with a young woman and a baby.  The baby was going to be adopted by someone on the plane and we struck up a fast friendship and chatted for most of the evening.  I eventually fell asleep across two chairs in the main ticket area.  It was not comfortable.

In going through my film collection alphabetically – the next collection (after The Adventures of Ma and Pa Kettle) is the AIRPORT Collection.  This is a collection of four films:  Airport, Airport ’75, Airport ’77 and, finally, last and very least:  The Concorde:  Airport ’79.



     Look at all the white people!

Made in the tradition of Grand Hotel these films are star feasts.  Like a movie star buffet.  Grand Hotel was a film filled with stars.  You see, the studio had all these people under contract and why not shove them all into a film.  You get a fluff plot, have them show up for a day or two, pay ‘em a few bucks and you have an event film.



Airport, based on a popular novel, and nominated for a number of Academy Awards is pure cheese.  It’s just a soap opera in an airport.  Dean Martin is sleeping with a stewardess while he’s MARRIED!  Burt Lancaster is stuck running the airport and dealing with a snow storm and a trapped plane.  George Kennedy – the only actor who appears in all four films – plays Patroni – some guy who does stuff.  And then you have a bunch of actors, young and old flitting about with “issues.”  The only real interesting subplot is when a depressed guy decides to kill himself and everyone on a plane by detonating dynamite he has strapped to himself.  Why he wants to take everyone else out is beyond me.  When he DOES kill himself (in the plane’s bathroom no-less) they’ve got to bring the plane down NOW – but the other plane is trapped on the air strip!  What to do what to do?!  Soap Opera set in Airport.  Next?


Look!  More White People!


Airport ’75 – let’s ratchet up the action a little bit, huh?  This is the film that Airplane ripped off so eloquently.  Helen Reddy plays a singing nun, Gloria Swanson plays herself, Charlton Heston plays God – or something like him, Karen Black plays the STEWARDESS WHO IS FLYING THE PLANE!!  And then a smattering of other actors and actresses at the beginning or end of their careers.  Norman Fell, Linda Blair, Jerry Stiller.

In this one the 747 (they’re all 747’s until the last film – duh) is hit by a small plane killing a navigator, sucking a co-pilot out, and seriously injuring the other pilot.  With a gaping hole in the cockpit of the plane Karen “cross-eyed” Black has to pilot it until they can get a REAL pilot (see Heston) somehow in the plane. 

Karen Black and some white gal

 I remember watching this film as a kid and being really enthralled with it.  This time…meh.  The special effects really don’t hold up and the cheesy dialogue is worse than 7-11 nacho cheese goo.


Yes...still more white people, but there was a black bartender. 

Airport ‘77­ – is a combination of The Poseidon Adventure and Airport – this time a luxury 747 all tricked out like a high class lounge – carrying a bajillion dollars worth of Jimmy Stewart’s art – is  high-jacked in hopes of stealing said bajillion dollars worth of art.  Of course Stewart’s daughter and grandson are on the plane.  Christopher Lee is on the plane looking about 60 – which makes me wonder how old he was when he played Saruman in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy – 110?  Olivia DeHavilland – looking beautiful and the other actress who was in every 1970’s film Brenda Vaccaro.  Now, please note:  Brenda Vaccaro and Karen Black went to the school of “smoke so many cigarettes that your voice is hoarse and sounds like you’ve got stage four throat cancer.”

Also note - I'm giving the filmmakers a hard time for not having many black actors.  Olvia has a black "assistant" who, of course, dies.

Rounding out the talent pool is Jack Lemmon, Emmet Walsh – playing a doctor (usually he plays low-lifes) and Darren McGavin who, at any moment, I thought was going to say:  “FRA-GEE-LAY!”

This film was head and shoulders above ’75 and the first because it actually has good acting.  And the special effects aren’t TERRIBLE.  Still, they’re pretty bad.  But you can’t disregard moments where all these has-beens and use-to-beens and sort-of-up-and-comers get doused with gallons and gallons and GALLONS of water.


White people getting wet.


As I watched it, I couldn’t help Jimmy Stewart wanting to chat with the Navy pilots about his time flying B-52 bombers over Germany during WWII.  I’m sure his stories around the lunch table would put any story about a plane underwater to shame.


Jimmy Stewart doing something he can really do.


Do I even need to point out the white people? 

The Concorde – Airport ’79 – this is the last and the very least of the films.  Maybe Boeing finally wised up and said:  To hell with you sinking our planes and hitting them with planes and blowing up their bathrooms!  Even though every film there’s some moment where someone turns (usually Patroni) to someone else and says:  “These 747s are the best built planes in the world!!  That Boeing really knows how to make planes.”

In ’79 what plot there is involves a reporter with some shady documents flying to Paris on a Concorde.  She’s being tracked by her sketchy boss played by Robert Wagner who wants those papers AT ALL COST.  So he’s willing to kill everyone on board.  Why he just doesn’t have her followed the moment she gets off the play…who knows?!  I guess it’s better if his anti-aircraft missile shoots them out of the sky.


George Kennedy.  The one consistent white character.


In this film Patroni is no longer just a grunt but is now a full fledged pilot along with Alain Delon and David Warner (whom I’ve always liked a lot).  The love interest in this picture is played by the non-throat-cancer Sylvia Krystal whose only claim to fame at this point was being Emmanuel in the Emmanuel Joys of a Woman soft-core series.  She just recently passed away at the age of 60 from cancer.  Cancer sucks.


Mr. Delon and Ms. Krystal - foreign white people.

This film contains no logic whatsoever.  When the Concorde is able to spin and twist and loop-de-loop to get away from rockets and a missile and everyone is freaking out – the plane is somewhat intact – and everyone goes about their business like nothing happened.  Even sleeping peacefully.  What?  I’d be puking my guts up, I’d be demanding to know answers.

After the plane lands in Paris (en route to Russia) almost everyone GETS BACK ON BOARD – even Charo!!  I’d be like:  “Dude, this plane has a death wish.  I’m taking Amtrak.”

And one more very annoying thing about this film.  John Davidson plays a character by the name of “Robert Palmer” and he’s hot for a Russian gymnast (who wouldn’t be?) but whenever they talk she calls him “Robert Palmer” – not Robert, not Bob, not Robbie but ROBERT PALMER.  So every single time she says it (and he says it) – I’ve got:  “MIGHT AS WELL FACE IT – YOU’RE ADDICTED TO LOVE!” running through my head.

A few overall thoughts about these four films.  Flight travel has changed so drastically since 2001 these films end up being a bit of a curiosity.  People put dogs in their purses, men ride with dynamite strapped to them, pilots smoke cigars in the cockpit, etc.

No one who is black has any major role in these films.  Not a pilot, barely a stewardess.  At least Kareem Abdul Jabbar was in Airplane as a pilot.  All the black characters are either maids, assistants or bartenders.  In ’79 Jimmy “Dy-no-Mite!” Walker plays a pot smoking saxophone player who actually has more than 3 lines.  And Cicely Tyson is completely wasted with some subplot about a child who died or something.



FINALLY a black person with an actual role in the film.  Of course he gets stoned in the plane's bathroom.

Lastly, the only film that takes place in an Airport is the first one.

Hoping to God that there’s no Airport ’14 on the horizon.