Greetings, Starfighter…

When I was a kid, my Mom wasn't too keen on me rotting my brain all summer at the movie theater.  She felt quite strongly that, although I was "a bright boy with lots of potential," modern-day movies contained a level of sex, realistic violence and gore that she simply did not want me exposed to.  It was not always this way.  She and Pops used to bring me and my Sis out to see some of the big blockbuster movies on the big screen.  Here are a few movies that I WAS allowed to see that stick out in my mind as the ones that probably changed her perspective (using ‘confidence-in-my-masculinity-inducing’ flowery bullets):

1. Grease

I know, right?  Grease seems so innocuous by today's standards.  But my Mom was flat out disgusted by this movie.  Was it Olivia Newton-John’s skin tight leather pants?  No.  Was it the drive-in make-out scene where John Travolta gets his balls slammed in the car door?  Nope.  It was one single phrase in one single song that forever banished Grease to the household smut pit: “The chicks will cream for Greased Lightning.”  Perhaps the fact that I’ve never forgotten that phrase is testament that she was probably right.

1. Raiders Of The Lost Ark

 

Face-melt scene, FTW!  It’s completely awesome and classic and all that, but I was like 9 years old in the theater watching this.  I wouldn’t let my son watch it now, and it’s fairly tame by today’s standards.  This was like 1981!  ‘Nuff said.

1. Buck Rogers In The 25th Century

Before it was a classic, campy sci-fi TV series it was a classic, campy sci-fi movie with space shuttles, little robots with talking Flava-Flav clocks and Erin Gray in skin-tight spacesuits:



Let’s just say that Erin Gray had something of an impact on my dark and sticky path to manhood.  Hmmm…

Before this turns into a Cracked.com ‘why classic entertainment is actually stupid’ article, let me get to the point: Although my Mom was not willing to allow me to actually witness the movies of my day, she would buy me the novelization of any movie I asked for.  Her reasoning of course was “Well, at least he’s reading.”  That what I was reading was often more descriptive in its violence and sex than the movies were ever allowed to be was kind of my little secret.  You know like, until now.

For example – the commercials for the Michael Douglas/Kathleen Turner flick Romancing The Stone presented it as a comedic action/adventure romp through the jungle with a bumbling Danny DeVito as the ‘heavy.’  Mom decided it may be a bit too violent for me, so I got the drug using, graphic violence infused and explicit sex scenes filled paperback book version:



When I finally did watch the movie years later, I was a bit disappointed it was so tame.

Another – Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom… After getting burned by Raiders of the Lost Ark, Mom was on to Spielberg and Lucas.  And in this case, rightfully so.  No child under 16 or so should be allowed to see that scene when the creepy shaman guy tears the screaming slave-boy’s still-beating heart out of his chest and shows it to him as he dies.  But let me tell you, reading it is the stuff of nightmares… not because it’s so gory, rather you are left to imagine what it looks like – while knowing it has been filmed and you someday CAN see it:



The final film novelization I’ll mention is one that I picked up not because of a commercial or schoolyard rumors that it was cool.  I simply spotted it on the shelf, saw that it was based on a movie and grabbed it.  And man am I glad I did:



I must’ve read The Last Starfighter 20 times as a kid and teenager.  It’s a great book and I later found to be an equally great movie.  I watched it recently with my kids and was so wrapped up in it I actually got a little choked up at the end (stupid, I know).  I have such fond memories of this story that I think I’m going to run out and pick it up for my sons to read.  And maybe we’ll pick up a few other books while we’re there… Is there a novelization of Zookeeper?

Oral Pacification and The Unbroken Habit

My oldest son is the victim of our parental inexperience.  With our subsequent children we had learned from our mistake.  But it cannot be denied - there are few things cuter than a baby or toddler who soothes him or herself with a soggy, wrinkled little thumb.  Of course by the time he was four or five (and entering the sick and diseased world of pre-school and kindergarten) it was far from cute.  Rather it had become a source of endless anxiety: frantic calls from frustrated teachers, late night trips to pharmacies for infant illness remedies and visions of second-mortgage requiring orthodontal bills.

Over the years we have tried a variety of medieval devices and dissuaders to break this cycle of anti-hygiene: foul-tasting digit dips and Oriental foot-binding inspired wraps and straps - all to no avail.  Eventually, we tired of the battle and left our hopes to the schoolyard - secretly hoping for a mild jungle gym teasing that would both disengage the shriveled and foul appendage and encourage a little 'hair on the chest' masculinity.  But alas, it seems not to be.  Despite the early stages of dental deformity, the boy has been overwhelmingly accepted and left to his anxious sucky-sucking in relative peace.

Today, after a brave first day of Tadpole swimming lessons (which consisted mostly of small children putting their faces in water and blowing real hard) we stopped for a celebratory treat on the short drive home: the much coveted 'donut' stop.  To drive home the message of my paternal pride we not only stopped but actually got out to stand in line so the actual donut choosing could be personalized.  A special event indeed.

As we stared as glazed as the delicacies before us, we were woken from our fat and sugar anticipatory stupor by a sudden "OH NO YOU DITN'T!!" uttered by the large black woman before us in line.  "You think you can just go sticking that thumb in your mouth where other people 'bout to eat? Nuh-uh, mister!"

I looked to my son - white as a sheet - and then to the woman who gave me a large smile and knowing wink.  "Thank you," I whispered to her as she turned to pay for her flavored iced coffee.

The Impoverished Executive

"Life is a spiraling whirlwind of stressful things I cannot contain or control. Let me count the ways..."

Did I ever tell you about the time I got the big promotion and an accompanying pay cut?  No?  Well it’s a lovely story – and as today’s thing is a direct result of it, here’s a few highlights:

In 2008, I was an hourly employee on a team that was working on a major project.  The project was hugely successful. I was promoted into a new position where I manage the processes we implemented with the project.  The timing of this promotion coincided with a major downturn in the economy where hourly employees were being asked to take voluntary time off and stuff.  I was made into a salaried employee and have earned approximately two-thirds of what I earned in 2007 since.  Oh, did I mention that when this pay change happened my wife was 5 months pregnant with our third child?

Since then, my family and I have been through some pretty rough patches: a serious foreclosure scare, broken down cars with no way to get to work, scraping together meals just trying to get through the next pay check… you get the idea.  And while all this stress was going on at home, at work I am in a high-profile position working with individuals at the highest levels of the corporation.  I am seen as one of the forefront business leaders.  Yet as I am picking up packages of ramen on the way home to feed the kids, my peers are leaving early to pick up their clubs in their new BMWs to hit the links. 

Grating.  Demoralizing.  Frustrating.  Feel free to add your own –ing.

So hey – this is all history, right?  It’s 2011 now and things must have gotten better by now… Well, a little.  As long as nothing out of the ordinary happens.  Like a birthday.  Or Christmas.  Or a vacation. 

Ah, vacation.  Today is my first day of Summer vacation.  We’ve been planning it for a few weeks.  We made some reservations at a hotel near an amusement park to meet up with some family for a long weekend and everything.  And the pay schedule worked out that I’d come into some extra funds a few days ahead of time.  Perfect. Almost.

Last week I found out that “due to the Fourth of July holiday” things were delayed and the extra bucks we had planned our vacation around weren’t going to be available until after the vacation is over.  So… no cash to actually do things during said vacation.  We can get to the amusement park and the hotel is already paid for, but we can’t afford to do stuff like actually get into the park or feed the kids.

Over the past couple of years I’ve had several moments where things seemed really hopeless.  And to be honest, this is one of the less ‘life-critical’ moments to fall apart over.  But you know, being in a desperate financial position for an extended period is wearing.  And over time I’ve gotten to the point where if someone at work asks me to go to lunch and I say “no thanks” (but really mean “I can’t afford to”), I’m nearly in tears as they walk away.  Fucking miserable.

Today is my son’s 2 year birthday party.  I’m a ball of stress.  People are coming to our house and I need to host.  I need to feed them.  I need to make a cake.  I need to keep people entertained.  I need to leave them with the perception that I am not at any moment going to shatter into a million pieces like a cheap clear beer bottle tinkling down a steep paved hill and that instead I am a successful professional who has things under control and is going on a wonderful vacation where my kids will not want for anything and life is good and I am happy.

Pray for me.