My Last Superman

 Still feeling sad about the fate of Christopher Reeve, I decided to satisfy my curiosity about the next Superman.  I heard that the movie addressed today’s issues, even emphasizing the hero’s status as an immigrant. That turned out to be the least of his problems.

This time, Superman spent most of his time on his back, up against an assault of computer- generated foes so swift, loud and unworldly that it left me dizzy in my seat.  Only the villainous  motives are totally familiar.

As I walked to my car, I thought of Bill’s comic book collection.  It seems only a minute ago that they helped him to learn how to read.  

Superman’s earthly father tells him he can choose to have his powers.  Superman tells us he may be from elsewhere but we are all the same.

Oh Superman, we know you are brave enough.  And your purity is intact. 

Are we?

Literary Game

 Robert B. Parker was the best-selling mystery writer who hit the jackpot with his character Spenser.  The hard-boiled Boston detective is quick with his gun, and just as quick with a quote from the classics, both gestures occurring only when appropriate. 

Parker died in 2010 and whoever was in charge decided to continue his series, hiring others to hopefully pick up his style…and his paychecks.  I read a few of the “afterlife” books and then decided, if I still wanted Spenser and his world, I could just re-read the originals.

One of the “afterlife” books has a plot about how a stolen manuscript deprives the real author of the credit he deserves.  Really? Spenser would never have so insensitive.  Or was that a sly joke from one of the pretend authors letting us know he’s in on the game.

Who Are We?

 

The times are heavy upon me…and I know you are feeling it too.  I’m striving for balance between a stoic stance: “there is always evil in the world”, and heart stopping emotion: “how can they get away with this!” 

In The New Yorker, Jill Lepore shares with us how she coped with the first 100 days of Trump 2.0. She kept the classics close at hand.  She tapped into the treasures of the human mind and heart to find appropriate quotes.

My oldster friend Naomi handles it this way:  “I’ve lived through so much:   World War II, civil rights, Vietnam. I’m taking it in stride.”  I guess when your book has many chapters, you don’t linger on one page.

There’s no right or wrong here.  I like the way Jill summed it up:  “There is no emergency, or any day, that does not require poetry.”

Living Small

 

At lunch with my friend Doris yesterday, we shared some “up close and personal” stories about ourselves and mutual friends through the years.  We smiled as we agreed that the big decisions and high stakes lie in the past and along with them the drama and excitement.

Today, I find what might seem depressing to be oddly comforting.  A new job, love affair, or home becomes a new book, new class or new restaurant.  Or even, smelling a new bar of soap.  

Boring?  Remember, we can put danger, guilt and regret in the rear view mirror too.

Up Against AI

 

In my class the other day, one of my classmates presented a very clear, even eloquent definition of a concept we were discussing. “That’s AI speaking”, he said. 

My friend Barb sent me her copy of JAMES by Percival Everett. She is curious about my thoughts and opinion of the book.  An idea, entirely new to me, crossed my mind.  “I wonder what AI thinks about this book?  Would my ideas overlap with AI?  Would we agree?  Would I miss some of what the author intended that AI picked up?  How much?”

Most unnerving, “Will AI leave my thoughts in the dust?  Who then will I be?”

Wimbledon

 

The tennis matches at 6 a.m. are perfect for early risers like me.  But don’t worry, you can catch them just about any time now on ESPN.  I continue to be convinced that tennis is the most difficult sport.  All alone, hours of play, equally matched opponents.  Tennis is heroic.

I’m just coming out of my funk at the loss to time of Nadal and Federer.  And, I’m somewhat annoyed that Djokovic — my least favorite of the “Big Three” —remains.  Okay, not just “remains” but continues to play gloriously.  

I’m going to stop whining now, pour myself another cup of coffee, and settle in. I’m going to enjoy the current crop of heroes.  Wanna join me?

America Then and Now

 Holidays always prompt memories of the years spent on that day.  Traditions emerge.  Some of my happiest holiday memories are of July 4th with Kathy and Jerry.  I loved taking the kids over to their big house and yard to picnic and play.  Their family was an emotional anchor in my more fractured family life.

Kathy and Jerry are gone now and the house has been sold. But I’m still around to keep the memories alive and I'm sure Bill and Marguerite will carry them forward. 

This year, many of us are feeling “iffy” about America.  We’re a fractured family. So let’s celebrate the best of who we are.  And what will always be possible.