Thesis with Turkey

I wanted to be eloquent, I should've proofread, but then I got tired.

It's seems obligatory for people to spend today thanking people.  I hadn't planned to write this on Thanksgiving, but it just so happened that this was the first free moment I have had in the past few months, so obligatory or not, cliche or not, I don't care.  It is always important to thank people for things and as one of my default positions is one of a sentimental person (not one of my worst traits), I guess it is fitting to use the 150th anniversary of the national day of thanks as a podium.  

Nicholas Motola as "Grant"

In the spring of 2010, after I stepped off the stage, diploma in hand, on a football field with the bright sun hanging over Mount Rainier as a backdrop, there wasn't one ounce, one inkling of the possibility that I would be where I am today.  I remember sitting in my dorm room, packing up all my belongings, and thinking, "What the hell do I do now?"  Of the many options that I pondered none of them came close to sitting in the main office of Theatre VCU, ten days away from defending my thesis and getting my Master's of Fine Arts.  Going back to school was the farthest thing from my mind, but a broken campaign, a shooting, a relationship, about two dozen shows, and a speech job later I found myself staring at the VCU graduate program website wondering what the hell I could do with an MFA in Theatre Pedagogy (I mean, who really wants to be a teacher).  Thinking about how good my next dinner will/would be might be the only similarity in thought processes.  But nevertheless here we are.  Ten days away from an MFA.  Perhaps, once again, ten days from thinking, "What the hell do I do now?" However, my Masters graduation (which I won't be walking, no matter how much certain people want me to) has very little to do with a diploma, very little to do with a few letters that will dramatically increase my chances for work in the future.  Well, I know that my literal graduation from this program is almost entirely about those things, but symbolically my Masters represents the end of a very long journey.  

Rocky Granum as "Hank"

When I came to VCU, I had planned to re-write Medea, set it in 70's Detroit, and have it produced.  I thought the concept would be hard, but if I started work on it, I could get it done in two years.  Then a clash of concussions happened and it was February of year one and I hadn't done squat.  That's when the thought of doing something about my great great grandfather came into my head and that's when everything, and I do mean everything changed.  A lifetime later, because these past two years have felt like a lifetime, and my thesis, "A Pact Sealed in Blood: The Creation of Blood Letters: An American Odyssey," is just one defense away from completion.  For me, my production had many problems, it still does have many problems, but despite its issues it is by far the greatest accomplishment I have ever completed.  It is the crowning achievement from a lifetime of moments leading to this one.  

My thesis is difficult because unlike the typical paper that you pour your heart into the writing of, this 103 page document is a living, breathing creation.  For me, it is less than a paper and more of a manifesto and I have poured my soul into its creation.  And as I said before, it is not perfect, but then again neither am I.  It is the best example of who I am.  

Denver Crawford as "Bud"

My thesis is difficult because within its pages lives an epiphany, one that I did not know was

possible.  It also houses a wound, well a multiple of wounds, that I did not know existed.  As Mr. Meeker, my 9th grade history teacher would say, "this is your watershed moment," and I believe that it is, but even though I have received immense pleasure from these pages, they come with a tremendous pain, because through writing a story I revealed part of myself that I didn't understand nor did I know existed.  And despite the parts of this thesis that have tested me, it is the greatest gift I could have ever received.  To truly know who you are is the greatest gift of all and on Thanksgiving 2014, I wanted to thank everyone who helped me receive this gift.

Katie Stoddard as "Jasmine"

To my casts:  The VCU production team consisting of Nicholas Motola, Rocky Granum, Denver Crawford, Katie Stoddard, Carmen Wiley, Joshua Buck, Micah Hughson, Emma Humpton, David Lopez with crew members Saskia Price, Max Rosenberg, Dylan Bartoe, John C Alley, Colin McLaughlin and Janelle Cottman.  The Chicago area production team consisting of a lot of people I don't know, but spear headed and created by my Stepmother Nancy.  The Iowa production team consisting of Zak Moran, Brandon Douglas, Cory Brannaman, Mariah Schuelter (I know I spelled that wrong), Nicole Klosterman, Theresa Gruber-Miller, John Gruber-Miller, Meghan Yamanishi, & Skyler Matthais.  Thank you for stepping into the souls of over 60 characters.  You honored their memories and their lives with your honest portrayals.  A special thank you to Nicholas, Rocky, Denver, Zak, Brandon, and Cory.  Each of you gave me a powerful gift, one of understanding, as I watched the history of my family, and the history of my own life through your eyes.  I am grateful and thankful for your dedicated work.  

Joshua Buck as "Patrick"

To my support staff:  Here in Richmond with the VCU graduates, Jorge Bermudez, Glynn Brannan, Erica Hughes, Susan Schuld, Bonnie McCoy, Brittany Proudfoot Ginder and Kate Salsbury (Your class meant so much), and Andrew Reid (And like a 1000 more).  In Iowa with Amy White, Braden Rood (for creating and maturing my artistic soul), Tawnua Tenley, Sarah Richardson (for making me smarter :), Hew Boardrow, Michael Noble, Stephen Gruber-Miller (especially Stephen Gruber-Miller), Noel Vandenbosch, Jennifer Gee (For helping me belong), and the entire Mount Vernon Lisbon Community Theatre family (I didn't forget about you Paul Freese and Duane Larson).  And around the world with Kainoa Correa, Dan Miller, Daniel C Smith, Bob Pore, Sara Myers, Ann Herrold, Mishka Navarre, Taylor Clouse, Jammie Lowe, and Geoff Proehl.  To all of these people, thank you for putting up with my bullshit, for making me keep going when it gets hard, for constantly challenging me to make me better.  Some of you helped me directly with this thesis, some indirectly, some know a lot about it, some don't even know it happened, but to each and every one of you this was made possible not just by your support, but by your hearts, your love, and your compassion.  A special thank you to Sara Myers.  I doubt you know this but I cannot tell you how blessed I feel that you are in my life.  Your guidance helped keep me together over the past two years.  (One of these days I might actually see you in person again).  

Micah Hughson as "Mariah"

To the faculty here at VCU:  Thank you to Aaron Anderson for teaching me that I'm really just a Sudra who thinks he's a Brahmin, Shaun McCracken, and Noreen Barnes.  Thank you so much for reading the damn thing.  Thank you to David Toney, Dr. T., and Susan Schuld.  Your encouragement and your intellect have made the past two years incredible.  Of course, how does one simply thank Noreen Barnes.  For the majority of us at VCU, she's why we're here, luckily I know she'll never read this so I don't have to get choked up trying to thank her.  

To the deceased:  Thank you to my grandmother, Harriet, and great grandmother, Louise, without your tedious care of our family’s history none of this would be possible.  And to Henry Wells Magee and Frederick Swanson, through the words of your letters I have learned the power of true passion, this is gift that I cannot repay, but hope to pass on to the future generations of our family.

Carmen Wiley as "Penny"

To my family:  Mom, Dad, Paul, Nancy, Uncle Dan, Katie, & Nate.  My family has been my most important audience.  Their love, patience and desire for me have been the single biggest source for guidance in my life.  On this day of Thanksgiving, I am blessed that despite our troubles and turmoils they still remain as fervent supporters of my life as the day when Nate drove me to a baseball game in Stanwood (and made me listen to The Hunchback of Notre Dame) on tape the whole way, when Katie came down to Richmond to spend Turkey Day 2012 at Tarrant's Cafe (by far the best holiday I have ever had), when Dad made me work on a cubed math problem for three hours even though I had another fifteen problems to work through, when Mom taught me to hold with a sign and march with a picture of Carrie Chapman Catt even though I had no idea who she was, when Paul got riled up at the Iowa Caucuses, and when Nancy made me try and pull the sword out of the stone.  Thank you all for being my stone, my rock, as I try and make it through this world.  

To my research team: My heartfelt gratitude goes out to my research team consisting of Jessica Skiles, Jasmine Hammond and Patrick Clark.  These three students committed their hearts, minds and spirits in a dedicated effort to bring this story to life. I wish to thank Jessica for her emotional connection to the material, Jasmine for her determination in procuring my own eventual catharsis and Patrick for his dedicated service and his friendship. Stealing lines from my thesis about each researcher: "I can say unequivocally that while I may be the writer, director, and dramaturg of this play, Patrick Clark is its backbone," & "Working with Jessica was a joy; she found her subject, my grandfather, intriguing and genuine and she dived into the material with immediate success," &  "Jasmine is the oldest twenty-two-year old I have ever met.  Her wisdom for understanding life’s altruisms is unparalleled in anyone I have met at her age."  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Emma Humpton as "Gabby"

Finally to the characters of Blood Letters specifically Gabby Giffords and Mariah Smith.  Thank you for making me the man that I am today.  Although I will most likely never see you again, your words live on in the pages of this script.  I thank you.

My heart is so full with thanks for everyone who helped make Blood Letters possible.  All of you have made such a dramatic impact on my life that I am eternally grateful for receiving.  May you all know my deepest gratitude and may you all have a Happy Thanksgiving.  

Interstellar & Fury

IMAX

Today I made the trek up to DC to see Interstellar in 70mm IMAX at the Smithsonian, then came back home to Richmond and saw Fury.  I can say that it was one of the stranger double feature experiences that I have ever had.  I want to preface everything that I am about to say with a few things.  One, I plan to discuss all parts of Interstellar so if you haven't seen the movie don't read any further.  Two, I love Christopher Nolan.  I think he is a genius film writer and an innovative director who never shies away from pushing as many boundaries as possible.  I am a Dark Knight Rises apologist and despite all of its many flaws, I still love the movie.  I have been looking forward to this movie since it was announced and made sure that I didn't watch almost any of the trailers for it because I didn't want to know anything about the film going in.  Three, I am not a fan of Shia Lebeouf and I think too many of Brad Pitt's movies become "pitted" in that they adopt a tone of melodrama.  Finally, no matter what I think of both of these films I hope you go out and see them.  I think that I can be at times ultra critical of films because I search for perfection within art and have very strong opinions.  Neither of these two movies are Man of Steel, so I hope you enjoy, dislike, or don't give two shits about what I say.  Also this blog is called Grant's Rants & More, the purpose of it is usually built for a rant, although rants do not always have to be bad things.  I will deal with what I liked and didn't like about both films, not a plot synopsis, because if you're reading this I expect you've seem the films. (Although I won't be as specific with Fury).  With all of that being said.

Fury is a good war movie.

Interstellar is a problematic film.

Fury:  Fury is a good, not a great, but a good war movie.  It's best arguments come from the fact that it is unapologetic, it isn't war propaganda nor is it anti-war.  It shows the final days of the War in Europe as they were, bloody, raw, unforgiving, and terrible.  One of the film's best qualities is in its character development and its actors.  Labeouf is standout, delivering what I believe is his best performance ever.  Bernthal and Pena prove to be good supporting characters although I wish more time was given to Bernthal.  Lerman and Pitt drive the movie and while I believe in the genuine nature of their relationship, for that matter Pitt's relationship with everyone, he and Lerman make tonal mistakes.  This is an issue considering the fact that the movie as a whole works with tone and context masterfully where there is uncontrollable laughter immediately followed by horrific death.  But their relationship becomes boss-underling, big brother-little brother, father-son too quickly and despite Pitt hardening Lerman to the horrors of war he then proceeds to baby him (not to a Disney level), but it becomes too "movie-esque" rather than "realistic film" quite quickly.  The movie needs some cutting.  The dinner table seen after Norman scores could easily have been cut.  A lot of the scenes went on for too long and not too long in the sense that we don't need to see the violence, but too long in the ending dialogue which becomes repetitious from other points in the scene and movie.  One of my biggest problems was with the music.  I am not a big fan of a score telling me how to feel like in 12 Years a Slave, this score ran into some of those problems.  With the horrors these men were facing and the sound of battle, no sound was needed.  Finally I didn't like how the sound dropped out when a death occurred.  It took the realism out of the film.  The dialogue at the end becomes repetitive and cliche.  Overall, this is a good movie, with some good acting and I would encourage those with empty stomachs to see it.

Interstellar:  As we drove home from DC we, my friends and I, discussed the film and within our car of four we each equally disliked it.  But after some reflection I can say that it isn't that I disliked the film, it isn't that it is a disappointment, but it is that I found the film to be ok at best, and mediocre to bad at worst.  There are parts of the film that I like.  It is visually stunning and is worth the price of admission just to see the camera work and the visual effects.  Nolan certainly knows how to make his crazy ideas come to life.  It was also well cast.  Matthew McConaughey is quickly beaming a really good actor.  After his string of terrible rom-coms he has built up a string of films including Killer Joe, Mid, Dallas Buyers Club, & The Wolf of Wall Street, not to mention True Detective.  Once again in this film he shines as easily the best actor/character of the film.  I also love the cameo in the film that when we all saw it in the theatre no one saw coming.  I love that they have no sound in space.  And finally I love the message that the film is trying to posit.  But in the end I feel that this was a convoluted movie that Christopher Nolan out "Nolaned" himself making, had too many plot wholes, too many script problems, and too missing parts to be a good movie.

The entire film posits two concepts.  One is that human beings are at their best when plunging into the unknown and the second is that family and love are the most intrinsic features to the human race and that they will always conquer all.  These concepts make for a great film.  Too bad the movie gets in the way of the concepts.

1.  The entire film is predicated on a plot line that cannot possibly be true.  The only way the movie exists is because there is a wormhole put in space by "they" a group of other beings trying to help humanity.  It is later explained that "they" are future humans that exist within a five dimensional reality rather than our three dimensional one.  This is explained hastily in exposition in the final third act of the movie as Cooper plunges into a blackhole and manages to arrive in a Tesseract (unfortunate name for Marvel fans) which allows him to use a morse code bookshelf to talk to his daughter in the past.  It is explained that the human race many eons in the future became five dimensional and created this place so that Cooper and get to his daughter because these future beings knew that they were the ones who "saved" humanity.  Get all that?  Because the dialogue is so dense and problematic that it is nearly impossible on first viewing.  But the real problem is that this entire concept exists within a paradox that cannot be explained.  The fifth dimensional creators built the wormhole and the tesseract so that Cooper and Murph can save humanity therefore making these five dimensional creatures exist.  But how did these future humans first survive to make these things given that there would have been none of these things to save them in the first place?  Cooper could not have traveled to this place and had these experiences unless he had been successful but because he has yet to do them, these future beings could not have possibly existed.  Also are you telling me that future people can control five dimensions but the best they can do in helping their creators is to put Cooper behind a wall?  Really?  They turn him into the Indian in the Cupboard. Or why didn't they just give the equation to the professor?  Cooper nearly dies a billion ways before getting to the blackhole.  Shitty plan future humans.   Also I can get behind gravity making the lines in the dirt and gravity pushing the books off the wall, but I cannot get behind gravity being able to move the hands on a watch into morse code.  Gravity doesn't control watches.   

2.  So many plot contrivances.  For a movie that is this long so many things happen to go perfectly right.  How in the world did Cooper figure out that the dirt on the floor was morse code and that it led to coordinates that just so happened to be within driving distance and when he arrived it just so happened to be led by his former boss and even without him ever saying specifically how he found the location they task him to drive the ship that is the last hope for humanity?  REALLY?  Did NASA have a pilot lined up already if Cooper hadn't shown up?  Why didn't they just drive down the road and get him a few years earlier?

3.  Why did they have to send humans in the first place since the robots (used as poor comic relief) were obviously evolved?  This was dealt with in one line from Matt Damon when he says the reason why we send humans is that they fear death.  Sorry not buying that as an adequate enough reason.  So let's say that we lose a few dozen robots.  We should have been sending all of them.  One made it through a black hole.  

4.  The idea that love conquers all is a beautiful idea.  That love "is the one thing that transcends time and space."  But it doesn't.  Or at least not for Anne Hathaway who says the line.  The basis of the concept comes from her desire to see her lost love scientist, but as the movie ends they kill him off entirely so Cooper can have a person to go and find.  So in essence love for Cooper transcends time and space but not for Brand.  

5.  Nolan's view of the future is actually really nice.  We live in a society were the military has collapsed and we are running out of food and yet there isn't really any crime and where are the starving masses trying to get food?

6.  Much in the same way of the Prometheus crew, they make massive assumptions about planets they can't understand.  On the first world where one hour equals seven years, they land in an ocean, which they can walk on (and yes I heard the argument that because of the massive tidal wave that the water is lower in that area, but waves in that shallow of water don't look like that) and see a massive tidal wave which causes them to lose 23 years and a lot of other problems. They leave the world and say it isn't livable.  WELL NO SHIT.  They landed in the ocean.  If I were exploring the earth and landed in the middle of the Pacific I might also say, well crap, guess I can't live here.  

7.  Murphy's Law actually does mean: anything that can go wrong will go wrong.  

8.  Other than Cooper, there are no three dimensional characters in the film.  Casey Affleck and his family, Topher Grace, Michael Caine, John Lithgow, Wes Bentley, and David Gyasi are all one note characters.  Even Matt Damon is one note after he plays a couple lines of bullshit.  And don't think I missed the reference "Man's greatest enemy is Mann."  The biggest disappointment is Murph.  She plays an upset kid from the time Cooper leaves all the way until she Michael Caine dies.  Then she magically switches back to being sentimental in a flash.  

9.  They killed Wes Bentley for no reason.  Anne Hathaway was the character who was far off the ship and Wes Bentley was already right next to it.  There is no effort that he makes to go and get her so he remains there yelling.  He had no business dying.

10.  Wait so did Matt Damon blow up David Gyasi (Romilly) ?  Also how did he not go insane when he lives in space alone for 23 years?  

11.  They've been on a ship for multiple years and yet they adapt to a new planet's gravity in short lines about how "gravity sucks".  

12.  For IMAX viewers they fucked up the sound mixing so Hans Zimmer's music was louder than a lot of the lines and there are gaps where the sound drops out on accident.

13.  You can receive messages from the world in a wormhole but you can't send anything out.  Ok?

14.  Why does Cooper have to go out to a glacier to figure out the planet is unlivable?  Oh, because it is a plot contrivance.  

15.  How can he talks to the robot in the tesseract because we've already established radio's don't connect in a black hole?

16.  The script isn't Nolan's best work.  He has long bits of spacey dialogue that we aren't given the opportunity to understand a word of it and then he runs into exposition dumps when he has to progress the story.

17.  Please stop Michael Caine from saying that poem again.

18.  The whole movie is about Cooper getting back to see Murphy and Murphy upset and longing for her father.  Then when we finally get to see them together they spend half a minute, barely connect, and she tells him to go get his game on with Brand, who for all anyone knows should be with Edmunds her true love.  I understand the reason they give "no parent should have to see their kids die," but he left her once, do you really think he would leave her again?

19 & 20:  What's the point of the whole movie?  What information did the team learn that he then gave to Murphy through the morse code bookshelf (holy shit a morse code bookshelf) that helped her solve the equation?  It couldn't have been much.  Made it through the wormhole.  Stop.  First two planets aren't livable.  Stop.  I'm stuck in a tesseract that is a paradox.  Stop.  I sent Brand off to a different world having no idea if she made it or if it is livable.  Stop.  

So what did she do with the code?  Create double gravity space stations on the outskirts of Saturn?  HOW?  Why did they go through the wormhole in the first place if the generations saved by Murphy never did?  

In the end Nolan out did himself.  He created a super complex plot that deals with way too many plot holes to make it a singular entity.  The script felt like a first draft and it lacked specifics for characters that weren't the leads.  I love Christopher Nolan and I want to see him succeed.  This isn't a terrible film, it just isn't a good one and as a guy who anticipated it for years, it was a real let down.  

I still love you.  My love for you transcends your plot holes and mismanaged scripts.

Baseball, Car Talk, and the Search for Heroes

It all started with the static of a radio.  It was an old classic, a JVC Radio/Cassette Player/TV.  The TV was the size of my tiny hands, black and white, and only carried three channels.  We used it occasionally when the tornado sirens would go off.  I would race down to the basement, turn on the screen until the static was too much, and then switch to the radio where Joe Winters and Bruce Aune told me that the storm would miss my small town once more.  But on this spring afternoon there were no sirens, instead the only sound was a light breeze that wrinkled the leaves on the top of our hundred year old oak trees and of course the static.  I had been searching for WGN for what felt like hours (in reality it was ten minutes), and despite running past 720 AM half a dozen times there was nothing.  Finally there was a blip and the crack of the bat and the dulcet tones of Pat Hughes emerged from the box.  "Servais has been a good catcher in the early season but not much for the bat with only a .212 batting average.  Here's the 1-2 pitch from Drabek, Servais hits a grounder up the middle to Biggio.  Over to first with Bagwell and there's one away in the fifth."  Naturally he would pass over to Ron Santo who would make some comment about Servais' catcher stance and then spend five minutes talking about cloud formation.  But that was Ron Santo and that was Pat Hughes.  It was the spring of Riggleman, Jenkins, and Williams on the bench, the spring of The Human Rain Delay Pitcher, Steve Trachsel and my idol, Mark Grace on first.  I listened from a tool box in my garage as Trachsel one hit the Astros and I was content.  I didn't know the Cubs would go 10 under .500, I didn't know that it would be Harry Caray's second to last season, I didn't even know if I could watch the next game.  All I had was Santo, the clouds, and a little spring breeze.  

This year a panda fell in foul territory and the San Francisco Giants won the World Series.  It was their third series win in five years, assuring Bruce Boche a spot in Cooperstown and Madison Bumgarner one of the greatest post season pitching performances on all time (Did you know that Bumgarner is only 25 years old?  I'm older than the MVP of the World Series).  It was a great series that pitted the Kansas City Royals, perennial losers of the American League against the October born Giants.  Despite the seven games it received average to low numbers for a World Series, having to compete most nights with the NFL.  With America's new favorite sport, football, baseball has had a ratings dip in October.  Many feel that America's Pastime should stay in the past.  Unequivocally I pronounce this sentiment to be hogwash.

In 1989, a movie theatre in Iowa heard the lines, "Is this Heaven?"  "No, this is Iowa."  It also heard the word's of James Earl Jones as he sent shivers of nostalgia down audience's spines.  "People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again."  Jones in Field of Dreams sums up everything I love about baseball.  It's the reason that no matter how many fantasy football drafts I have, no matter how many touchdowns I celebrate, no matter how many times the Dallas Cowboys go 8-8, that I will first and foremost be a baseball fan and a Chicago Cubs baseball fan for life.  

People have trouble watching baseball these days, myself included.  In the course of one touchdown drive, only one batter with a few fouled off pitches will have batted.  In a society that is built on the pace of the next fastest mode it can be hard to focus on such a sport as baseball.  In the past few years I have only watched one game through to it's entirety, a Cubs game last year, but as I watched the final five innings of Game 7 in this years' World Series I was reminded of all the times I spent Saturday afternoons with Ron Santo and the radio.  I was reminded of the five game Braves series of 2003 and the subsequent Bartman Ball in the following series with the Marlins (to this day I contend that it wasn't Bartman, but Alex Gonzalez letting the ball get past him at short in the next play that doomed the game).  I was reminded of the good and the bad, the beautiful and the disastrous.  What was and what can be again, baseball America's game.

However the biggest problem with the game isn't how long it takes but in what ways we consume the length.  I was blessed to have Harry and Chip Caray on TV and Santo and Hughes on the radio, but for most, baseball cannot be consumed betwixt the plastic box and the audience.  It must be smelled, tasted, and felt.  For true baseball you have to go to the ball park.

You buy a hot dog, on the way in, that has sat in oil and grease for far too long.  You go to the ball park and sit in seats long past due for maintenance and far enough away from the field that the nosebleeds have nosebleeds.  You wear the hat of your favorite team, even if they aren't playing, because you still have to represent your colors.  You sit next to Republicans, Democrats, gays, straights, Blacks, Whites, and Hispanics.  You learn the lessons of the game from the old man who as he says " Hasn't missed a game since the fifties."  You have crazy, half baked conversations about Congress, the debt ceiling and intermix them with how Wade Davis throws a fast ball and why can't the Padres get a new logo.  You make up silly games like the dollar game where everyone pays you if your player gets a hit.  You yell and scream without a care for who hears you.  You do the wave even though it wasn't your idea.  You brought your mitt, even though it won't happen, but just in case you want to get a ball for the cute girl in row q.  You talk to people you never would ordinarily talk to.  You hug people randomly when Cruz hits a triple and curse Girardi for taking out Sabathia in the sixth.  You feel the cold chill as the game goes into extra innings.  You celebrate with the new stupid song the team picked when they win.  The fireworks soar into the sky guiding you to the metro, the L, or the subway.  You go home with a smile, the smell of the hot dog, and the feel of the bleachers still imprinted in your head (or in the case of the bleachers your butt).  And finally you dream of the day when you can take your son to the ballpark and watch the magic course through his veins.  That's real baseball.   

---

On that same JVC radio I would spend between noon and 1 pm central listening to two men laugh about a subject, which to this day I still no little about.  I don't understand how a carburetor works or why we need spark plugs, but I know that these two guys loved to laugh about it.  Much in the same fashion as Ron Santo they could never sit still with just the car talk they would always have to bring in stories.  The Onion article about the US airdropping vowels to Ethiopia or the time Tom said his wife looks like a truck.  The walls in Ray's first apartment painted hippie purple and Tom's desire to take to discuss The Guy Test by Dave Berry:  Alien beings from a highly advanced society visit the Earth, and you are the first human they encounter. As a token of intergalactic friendship, they present you with a small but incredibly sophisticated device that is capable of curing all disease, providing an infinite supply of clean energy, wiping out hunger and poverty, and permanently eliminating oppression and violence all over the entire Earth. You decide to:

a. Present it to the president of the United States.
b. Present it to the secretary general of the United Nations.
c. Take it apart.

Tom chose option C.  

This was Car Talk every Saturday morning for the entirety of my childhood.  NPR was a godsend and their CD complications of best calls were all worn down to the scratches from use.  "Click and Clack the Tappet Brothers," became a weekend fixture in the Freeman/Swanson household.  Sometimes we would drive to the grocery store and would sit in the car until the Puzzler was done.  When I started bowling league tournament play I would try and be done by 12:30 so I could catch the last half of the show on the drive home.  But why in the world did I listen?  If you saw my car today you would see that very little was learned.  It was because of Ray and Tom, it was because through the magic of radio, laughter disseminated once a week.  It was because no TV show, movie, or even play could match the warmth felt every Saturday afternoon.  

One of my favorite moments came in 1997 when a letter to the show, from Patti McGuire read the following:  (The Exercise Diary)

For my birthday this year my wife purchased me a week of private lessons at the local health club. Though still in great shape from when I was on the varsity chess team in high school, I decided it was a good idea to go ahead and try it. I called and made reservations with someone named Tanya, who said she is a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and athletic-clothing model.

My wife seemed very pleased with how enthusiastic I was to get started. They suggested I keep an "exercise diary" to chart my progress.

Day 1: Started the morning at 6:30 a.m. Tough to get up, but worth it when I arrived at the health club and Tanya was waiting for me. She's something of a goddess, with blond hair and a dazzling white smile. She showed me the machines and took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill. She seemed a little alarmed that it was so high, but I think just standing next to her in that outfit of hers added about 10 points. Enjoyed watching the aerobics class. Tanya was very encouraging as I did my sit-ups, though my gut was already aching a little from holding it in the whole time I was talking to her. This is going to be GREAT!

Day 2: Took a whole pot of coffee to get me out the door, but I made it. Tanya had me lie on my back and push this heavy iron bar up into the air. Then she put weights on it, for heaven's sake! Legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made it the full mile. Her smile made it all worthwhile. Muscles ALL feel GREAT.

Day 3: The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the tooth brush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I am certain that I have developed a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer. I parked on top of a Volkswagen. Tanya was a little impatient with me and said my screaming was bothering the other club members. The treadmill hurt my chest, so I did the stair monster. Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by the invention of elevators? Tanya told me regular exercise would make me live longer. I can't imagine anything worse.

Day 4: Tanya was waiting for me with her vampire teeth in full snarl. I can't help it if I was half an hour late; it took me that long just to tie my shoes. She wanted me to lift dumbbells. Not a chance, Tanya. The word "dumb" must be in there for a reason. I hid in the men's room until she sent Lars looking for me. As punishment she made me try the rowing machine. It sank!

Day 5: I hate Tanya more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. If there were any part of my body not in extreme pain, I would hit her with it. She thought it would be a good idea to work on my triceps. Well, I have news for you, Tanya: I don't have triceps. And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me any barbells. I refuse to accept responsibility for the damage. YOU went to sadist school, YOU are to blame. The treadmill flung me back into a science teacher, which hurt like crazy. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like a music teacher, or a social studies teacher?

Day 6: Got Tanya's message on my answering machine, wondering where I am. I lacked the strength to use the TV remote, so I watched 11 straight hours of the Weather Channel.

Day 7: Well, that's the week. Thank goodness that's over. Maybe next time my wife will give me something a little more fun, like a gift certificate for a root canal.

As a child I remember laughing so hard I fell over.  As someone who has dealt with weight issues for a long time, the line "As punishment she made me try the rowing machine. It sank!" was and still is one of the funniest lines I have ever heard.  Unfortunately this article isn't a sound byte but I encourage anyone who hasn't heard the show to listen to the Car Talk Podcast, which NPR posts an archived show once a week.  You have to hear Tom and Ray, because words don't do them justice.  

The world lost Tom Magliozzi yesterday.  He was 77 and dealing with complications from his Alzheimer's disease.  The world lost one of the greatest laughs it ever had.  

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I wanted to write something quick about baseball and something quick about Tom Magliozzi because both are incredibly similar to me.  Both brought me through hard times in the past, both bring such warm feelings to my heart, because I loved and still love both so dearly.  Too often people call other people their Heroes.  It happens so much that the word no longer has the powerful connotation that it once did, but for me I've always known who my heroes are.  They are my brother, Nate and sister, Katie.  The list includes Louis Zamperini, Martin Luther King Jr., and Maggie Ellison.  There are many more, people who inspire me, who lift my spirits, and teach/have taught me to be a better man.  Two men on that list are Ron Santo and Tom Magliozzi.  I will forever remember their wacky sense of tangential material, their laughs, and their warmth.  R.I.P. Tom.  Thank you for the memories.