Yesterday I saw "Water for Elephants." This is a very well-done movie that I highly recommend. I wasn't sure what to expect with Reese Witherspoon and Robert Pattison, and even though many critics didn't feel the fire, I thought it worked. There were no remnants of a vampire about Pattison and you did care about him. I felt the frustration his character was experiencing, and the cruel circus owner/ringmaster August played by Christoph Waltz was right on. Reese was the abused wife---caught between love and hate. Afraid to stay but afraid to leave.
For me, the show stealer was Rosie the Elephant. What a love and how outraged I was when she was abused. She put me in mind of an elephant that used to be in some of the Las Vegas Hilton shows. The Hilton elephant Tanya was adorable---and she skipped with a nice pink bow tied around her tail. Back then I knew the sales manager at the Hilton, later the general manager of the Flamingo, and he said sometimes when things were slow they would take Tanya into the casino because she loved to pull the handles on the slots.
But I regress. This movie kept my attention all the way through with a cheer the hero, hiss the villain attitude. Oh yeah. I wouldn't be happy until August went down.
It's Saturday so this is short, but if you have a chance to see this movie by all means buy the ticket and travel back to 1931. Hal Holbrook, Pattison's character as a very old man, grabbed your heart. Like I said, it has my recommendation.
Happy weekend.
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Showing posts with label Morgan St. James. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Morgan St. James. Show all posts
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Remember old mobile phones?
This morning I was watching a commercial for AT&T touting all of their new cell towers and improved service. Well, I'm really not a fan of AT&T because I had to report them to the PUC several years back when they tried to gouge us for $300 in termination fees. But that's another story. By the way...we won.
The commercial got me to thinking about how far mobile, and now cell, phones have come. From the wonder of wonders---a phone that you could carry around like a briefcase with a regular telephone receiver---to the equivlent of a mini-computer you can hold in the palm of your hand. There were the seemingly impossible Dick Tracy wrist radio and the shoe phone in Get Smart, but those were in the funny papers and on TV. What could come next?
I thought back to my first exposure to a phone-on-the-go. I was working for a Beverly Hills commercial real estate development firm many years ago and the obnoxious sales manager got a mobile phone installed in his Cadillac. Back in those days, not many people had car phones. His looked like a telephone receiver installed on the console between the seats,and reception was questionable. Lots of crackles and pops accompanied by static, but, hey, it was a status symbol and if there was anything Richard Denman wanted it was to be thought of as a hot shot.
I don't know if people didn't want to talk to him on his mobile or he was just looking to impress, but every time this jerk pulled into the sub garage of the office building we would get a call. The minute we heard the snap, crackles and pops, we knew who it was.
"Um, this is Denman. I'm, um, pulling into the garage. Do I have any messages?"
The receptionist's eyebrow would rise in her distinctive way, the office manager would groan, "Dennnmmmannn?" and when she nodded we all giggled. I don't think he ever knew what enjoyment he gave us in the middle of a boring day.
Then phones evolved. You could actually carry them around with you, and possibly injure your shoulder in the process. They came in a handy case with a shoulder strap, weighed several pounds and still had a regular phone receiver attached to the apparatus in the case. I taped an exercise show back in the 80s and I saved it for the following commercial. In today's world, it's kind of hilarious.
A very attractive Asian woman walks along the sidewalk by the Marina with this case containing the phone slung over her shoulder, happily chatting away on the telephone receiver while she ambles past the boats. Ah, L.A. Cellular could make this idyllic scene yours. The message was that important people had mobile phones and lots of leisure time. Why not make this yours for only a few hundred dollars and a hefty monthly fee?
These days every teeny bopper has a cell and their parents can track them on GPS should they desire to while the kids lol and gaily text their "buds" in a language I have yet to master.
Progress!
The commercial got me to thinking about how far mobile, and now cell, phones have come. From the wonder of wonders---a phone that you could carry around like a briefcase with a regular telephone receiver---to the equivlent of a mini-computer you can hold in the palm of your hand. There were the seemingly impossible Dick Tracy wrist radio and the shoe phone in Get Smart, but those were in the funny papers and on TV. What could come next?
I thought back to my first exposure to a phone-on-the-go. I was working for a Beverly Hills commercial real estate development firm many years ago and the obnoxious sales manager got a mobile phone installed in his Cadillac. Back in those days, not many people had car phones. His looked like a telephone receiver installed on the console between the seats,and reception was questionable. Lots of crackles and pops accompanied by static, but, hey, it was a status symbol and if there was anything Richard Denman wanted it was to be thought of as a hot shot.
I don't know if people didn't want to talk to him on his mobile or he was just looking to impress, but every time this jerk pulled into the sub garage of the office building we would get a call. The minute we heard the snap, crackles and pops, we knew who it was.
"Um, this is Denman. I'm, um, pulling into the garage. Do I have any messages?"
The receptionist's eyebrow would rise in her distinctive way, the office manager would groan, "Dennnmmmannn?" and when she nodded we all giggled. I don't think he ever knew what enjoyment he gave us in the middle of a boring day.
Then phones evolved. You could actually carry them around with you, and possibly injure your shoulder in the process. They came in a handy case with a shoulder strap, weighed several pounds and still had a regular phone receiver attached to the apparatus in the case. I taped an exercise show back in the 80s and I saved it for the following commercial. In today's world, it's kind of hilarious.
A very attractive Asian woman walks along the sidewalk by the Marina with this case containing the phone slung over her shoulder, happily chatting away on the telephone receiver while she ambles past the boats. Ah, L.A. Cellular could make this idyllic scene yours. The message was that important people had mobile phones and lots of leisure time. Why not make this yours for only a few hundred dollars and a hefty monthly fee?
These days every teeny bopper has a cell and their parents can track them on GPS should they desire to while the kids lol and gaily text their "buds" in a language I have yet to master.
Progress!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Why I believe in fate
I had to write this while it was fresh in my mind. Unless you watched the Today this Sunday morning, the names Joe Parker and Rick Hill won't mean anything, but it's an amazing story. A story that validated why I believe in fate. Joe and Rick, two guys in their thirties who were both raised in Massachusetts actually share the same father, but they never knew each other.
Joe was placed in the foster system as a tot and Rick lived in the next small town. Somewhere along the line Rick learned that he had a half-brother, but never tried to find him because he didn't have a clue where to start.
Fast forward. It's 2011 and Rick and his family took a trip to Hawaii. They weren't staying near Wakikki Beach, but rather on the other side of the island. For some reason, Rick said he didn't know why, they circled the island that day and took a walk on the beach. Rick, his wife and kids stopped to pose for some photos with the surf in the background. A typical tourist thing to do. Mom or Dad takes the shot while everyone says cheese. This time something different happened.
Enter 38 year old Joe, who had moved to Hawaii and was working in the hospitality industry. So he's walking along the same beach, sees the family taking photos and offers to take a shot of all of them. As Joe said, "I'm in the hospitality industry now so I decided to be hospitable." While they were talking, they both noticed the New England accents, and as people from the same area often do, each asked the other where he was from. Turned out they lived one small town apart.
Then they exchanged names of people they knew. That's when the world stood still. One of the names was their mutual father. The half-brothers had found each other through a quirk of fate. Why was Rick at Wakikki Beach that day when he never intended to go there? What prompted Joe to move to Hawaii and how did he wind up on the same stretch of beach at exactly the time his half-brother and his family were taking their vacation shot? What prompted him to offer to take a photo?
No one can really answer those questions, but it's why I believe in fate.
Joe was placed in the foster system as a tot and Rick lived in the next small town. Somewhere along the line Rick learned that he had a half-brother, but never tried to find him because he didn't have a clue where to start.
Fast forward. It's 2011 and Rick and his family took a trip to Hawaii. They weren't staying near Wakikki Beach, but rather on the other side of the island. For some reason, Rick said he didn't know why, they circled the island that day and took a walk on the beach. Rick, his wife and kids stopped to pose for some photos with the surf in the background. A typical tourist thing to do. Mom or Dad takes the shot while everyone says cheese. This time something different happened.
Enter 38 year old Joe, who had moved to Hawaii and was working in the hospitality industry. So he's walking along the same beach, sees the family taking photos and offers to take a shot of all of them. As Joe said, "I'm in the hospitality industry now so I decided to be hospitable." While they were talking, they both noticed the New England accents, and as people from the same area often do, each asked the other where he was from. Turned out they lived one small town apart.
Then they exchanged names of people they knew. That's when the world stood still. One of the names was their mutual father. The half-brothers had found each other through a quirk of fate. Why was Rick at Wakikki Beach that day when he never intended to go there? What prompted Joe to move to Hawaii and how did he wind up on the same stretch of beach at exactly the time his half-brother and his family were taking their vacation shot? What prompted him to offer to take a photo?
No one can really answer those questions, but it's why I believe in fate.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
A Lovely Memory
I spent most of the day working on reviewing the pre-proof for the new Silver Sisters Mysteries book, "Vanishing Act in Vegas." After a few hours, I decided to take a break. The intelligent thing would have been to take a drive or do something away from the computer. Not me. Instead I logged onto my Facebook account and was greeted by a message from my daughter Jakki that brought back a beautiful memory from long ago in a rush of flashbacks.
The song Jakki posted a link to on the Facebook message was Chuck Mangione's BELLAVIA. At first it sounded like the YouTube video had the hiccups, because the same strain repeated over and over. Then all of a sudden, there it was---our "Palm Springs" music. Visions of Highway 111 on the way to Palm Springs CA, Jakki and my son Jason, only a few years older at that time than Jakki's sons are now, a temperate breeze ruffling our hair as we flew along the wide open highway in my big 1970 Buick convertible with the top down and the radio blaring Bellavia. The music was so perfect for the day. It felt like the freedom to do whatever we wanted to.
Would you believe that until she posted the link today, I never really knew the name of the piece. It was simply our Palm Springs music. She mentioned stopping at the big brontosaurus at the side of the road, which was really a small museum later joined by a T-Rex museum. Sort of an icon of the road for anyone who has traveled that way. Upon seeing it in the middle of the desert, most kids shout, "Oh, can we go see the big dinosaur?" and my kids were no exception.
The power of music is amazing, isn't it? Think about it. We remember the words to songs years and years later, but might not remember what happened a few days ago. All we have to do is hear a few notes. Quite often a string of images, experiences or sights and sounds come right along with that memory of lyrics, more or less like the magician continuing to pull handerkerchiefs out of his sleeve.
So to Jakki I say, thanks for that string of memories today. I loved it. There are certain trips I remember so well, and that was one of them. I was still an interior designer back then and working on designing a corporate condo in Palm Springs. I had to install the accessories---the finishing touch, and decided to bring the kids along for the weekend. Just the three of us, beautiful weather in Palm Springs and Chuck Mangione.
The song Jakki posted a link to on the Facebook message was Chuck Mangione's BELLAVIA. At first it sounded like the YouTube video had the hiccups, because the same strain repeated over and over. Then all of a sudden, there it was---our "Palm Springs" music. Visions of Highway 111 on the way to Palm Springs CA, Jakki and my son Jason, only a few years older at that time than Jakki's sons are now, a temperate breeze ruffling our hair as we flew along the wide open highway in my big 1970 Buick convertible with the top down and the radio blaring Bellavia. The music was so perfect for the day. It felt like the freedom to do whatever we wanted to.
Would you believe that until she posted the link today, I never really knew the name of the piece. It was simply our Palm Springs music. She mentioned stopping at the big brontosaurus at the side of the road, which was really a small museum later joined by a T-Rex museum. Sort of an icon of the road for anyone who has traveled that way. Upon seeing it in the middle of the desert, most kids shout, "Oh, can we go see the big dinosaur?" and my kids were no exception.
The power of music is amazing, isn't it? Think about it. We remember the words to songs years and years later, but might not remember what happened a few days ago. All we have to do is hear a few notes. Quite often a string of images, experiences or sights and sounds come right along with that memory of lyrics, more or less like the magician continuing to pull handerkerchiefs out of his sleeve.
So to Jakki I say, thanks for that string of memories today. I loved it. There are certain trips I remember so well, and that was one of them. I was still an interior designer back then and working on designing a corporate condo in Palm Springs. I had to install the accessories---the finishing touch, and decided to bring the kids along for the weekend. Just the three of us, beautiful weather in Palm Springs and Chuck Mangione.
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