Let Us Pray

I saw “Spotlight” tonight.   While I was aware of the scope of the Abuse scandal in the Catholic Church, I was not aware of how the story in this country broke.  The film is amasterful piece of storytelling that lays bare the intense, personal stories involved with bringing this particular truth to light.

What struck me most about the film (and is still reverberating around in my brain) is how such horrific deeds could be buried and simultaneously suppressed and seemingly forgotten by so many people.  So many people.  Mothers, fathers, priests, victims, reporters, police, clerks, lawyers, judges, bishops, sisters, brothers.  Everyone seemed to know about the systematic sexual abuse of children and its cover-up and few did or said anything to bring the awful truth to light.

When it was spoken of, or mentioned, or reported, it was often swept under any variety of rugs…rugs of denial, rugs of regret, rugs of inconvenience, rugs of misunderstanding, rugs of legal maneuvering, rugs of shame and rugs of white-hot fear.

The complicit cover-up was and is astounding.  It hit home for me — not only the importance of telling the truth, but of speaking up and telling the truth that lays dormant, unspoken and unseen.

This film is as much about the sins of action as it is about the sins of inaction.

Ashes to Ashes

I used to wait and wait and wait for this to be played on Night Tracks, Ted Turner’s short-lived precursor to MTV.  Of course, I had grown up with Bowie on Top 40 radio but never really knew his music.  That is, until my neighbor Ann Beavers turned me on to him, along with B-52’s, Talking Heads and The Cars.  She had a couple of albums and we’d listen to them when our folks weren’t around.

Something about this video’s  eerie melody, synthy guitar chords, negative visual treatment and, of course, Bowie’s androgynous harlequin character struck a nerve with me.  It was his first video I recall going big time and I was hooked.

The nerve it struck, as with so many, was the self-realization that I, too, was different.   And profoundly so.   Years later, I would realize that being different was OK, maybe even better.

Thank you Ann for the introduction.  And thank you David Bowie for years and years of pleasure.  You left the world a better place than when you arrived.

Godspeed.

Warm Leatherette

Join the car crash set….

Anyway, sorry for being radio silent.    December was a mixed bag-o-tricks.  Good riddance to an average average average month.

Hightlights:  I got 5 more chapters written and the rest of the book outlined.   That’s all I’m gonna say about that.  My visit home was initially stressful.  And it was all my stress.  When will I learn?  I got it out of the way on Christmas Eve with a stern talk with my mother.  She, however, was a good 30 years ahead of me.  Hello?!   I mean, really.  Look around Brown.   They’re not here forever.  And Dad, always so perceptive.  He reads me like a book.   Christmas Day was lovely…until we had to seek shelter in the workshop closet.   There was a confirmed tornado inbound.  It was prudent.   All ended well and dinner was only a half hour late.  I’m especially thankful for the blessings that my sister is finally enjoying.  She deserves to be happy.  Yay Liz!

Turns out my trip to Florida was just what the doctor ordered.  Great friends.  Easy hospitality.  Good sex.  Lots of debaucherous fun.  Great weather.  What’s not to like?

And so is the tone for this New Year.  So far, so great.   I’m happy.  Much of it has to do with my attitude and what I’m putting forth.   I’m 50.  I should remember these things.

Love to all.