Joel Frey

Movie Review: The Tillman Story

For months, I'd wanted to see The Tillman Story. After reading several reviews last summer,  I figured the documentary about the NFL star turned Army Ranger would eventually find its way to El Paso, home of Fort Bliss, the massive U.S. Army post that straddles the Texas-New Mexico border.

I began constantly checking the Flixster app on my Blackberry for local show times, but to no avail. At first, I guessed that El Paso was not big enough to warrant a run of screenings. But then, I wondered if the city's proximity to Fort Bliss was actually a deterrent given the film's unflattering portrayal of one of the U.S. military's most forgettable moments during the War on Terror.

Recently, I was perusing Netflix and The Tillman Story crossed my mind. While it wasn't available until February 1, I added it to our queue, satisfied that I'd finally get the opportunity to watch it.

The Tillman Story is well done and the footage and interviews are compelling, but if you've read Jon Krakauer's "Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman," as I had, I don't think you'll take away much new information.

That said, there is one unforgettable sequence from Tillman's memorial service that I didn't remember from the book. At some point, his younger brother, Richard, climbed the stage to say a few words about his fallen brother. With a beer in hand, he called out the previous speakers, including John McCain, who eulogized Pat as one would expect at a religious service.

"He's not religious," he countered. "Thanks for your thoughts, but he's (expletive) dead."

There is so much about Pat Tillman's military career that saddens and disappoints me: his inglorious death, the U.S. government then using the tragedy to market an unpopular war and finally the shameless lies that were told by some of the highest ranking leaders in our country as his family tried to sort through the facts.  As a Christian, however, that scene embodies the most haunting and most hopeless part of all.

 

Hotdish, Potluck, Smorgasbord

We're having potluck for today's 300 words. I hope it fills you up!

• Heather and I are slightly dumbfounded that Megan, whose great-grandparents have called the state of Wisconsin home for almost 90 years, rooted for the Steelers. It was almost as perplexing as when she painted a horseshoe on her cheek last year while we sported the fleur-de-lis during Super Bowl 44.
• Last year, we started a new Super Bowl tradition: jambalaya during halftime. Heather made a scrumptious batch on Sunday and I appreciated having a taste of the Crescent City during the game even if the Saints didn't make it back to the promised land.
• As a lifelong Star Wars fan, the VW commercial featuring a mini-Darth Vader futilely attempting to harness the Force cracked me up. On Facebook I wrote that it was "amazing that Star Wars is still relevant 30+ years after its debut," to which my friend and fellow Star Wars buff Shea replied, "Much like us."
• El Paso hasn't quite fully recovered from last week's plunge into the deep freeze.  Schools just reopened yesterday and the city finally confirmed this afternoon that it was okay to drink the water sans boiling.  Unbelievably, some homes and businesses are still without water.
• We submitted Meg's FAFSA application last night. For those of you unfamiliar with college application process that stands for "Free Application for Federal Student Aid." As I was writing this I asked Meg to recite the acronym and she rattled it off. A few seconds later she then passed the "What is your social security number?" quiz.

Like most Lutherans, I'm an ambassador of potlucks involving pots. We're having one at Trinity (3800 Hondo Pass) on Sunday. If you're on the Northeast side of town, stop by around 11:30 and fill up a plate. And should your soul need refreshing, the service starts at 10:15.

El Paso Feb. '07, Part III

On the final day of my first weekend in Sun City, I was Heather's guest at the small Lutheran church on the West side of town that she, Meg and her Mom had attended for many years. Heather introduced me to the young Pastor, his family and just about every other member of the congregation.  It didn't take long for the names and faces to blur.

"So are they all going to talk about us now?" I asked, as we headed to the car after the service.

"Oh yeah," Heather said, reassuringly.

For lunch, the lovely ladies took me to Village Inn and then we decided playing a round of miniature golf before I headed back to Dallas would be the perfect capper. It was slightly less competitive than bowling had been the night before. Heather thinks Megan won. We took the Roaming Gnome with us and he appeared in most of the pictures from the outing.

As we drove on I-10 on the way to the airport, we reviewed our brief time together.

(Note: Schmaltz alert!!! Schmaltz alert!!!)

"It exceeded my expectations," I announced.

"Me too," Heather said.

Heather and Meg escorted me inside and walked me to security. We embraced one last time before I stepped on the escalator. Once the TSA agent cleared me through, I stopped to fiddle with my backpack. I opened it and there was a giant Hershey Kiss with a sweet note right on top.

It was Super Bowl Sunday and the flight home was empty.  While the outcome of the Colts and Bears game briefly crossed my mind, other questions took precedence.  When would we see each other again? Could we make a long distance relationship work? Is she the one?

The reassuring part was that we both already knew the answers.

 

 

 

El Paso Feb. '07, Part II

Day two of my El Paso familiarization tour featured a packed agenda. First, for breakfast, Heather treated me to her world famous sausage braid. A chauvinistic thought along the lines of "Hooray, she can cook!" possibly crossed my mind as I gobbled the meal down, but I can't recall for certain.

With a full tummy, Heather then drove me around the city she had called home since 1996. We crossed Loop 375 over the vast and rugged Franklin Mountains on our way for a ride on the Wyler Aerial Tramway. From one mile above sea level, Heather pointed out relevant landmarks, including neighboring Juarez. Neither of us thought to bring a camera, but the gift shop offered them for sale and we ended up taking a bunch of snapshots.

Afterwards, we had a coffee date at Java Dave's and continued the discussion. We touched on topics heavy and light, including young Megan, an eighth grader at the time. I could tell the relationship they had forged was built on all of the right principles: faith, love, trust and respect. A short time later, I'd meet her in person.

 We drove to Heather's mom's house. We walked through the garage into the kitchen area and there was Megan, taller than I  had expected. She hugged me and my nerves calmed. Before we munched down Heather's mom's pork ribs we played a game of Battleship. I can't remember who won, but I'm certain she whipped me in Pretty, Pretty Princess before heading to the bowling alley.

"They have the BEST nachos there," she said. We found our lane and placed an order.

Besides the BEST nachos, I also saw Heather's competitive streak come alive at Fiesta Lanes as she took pleasure in beating me in the final game of the evening. Despite this bruise to my ego, I held her hand on the way home.

El Paso Feb. '07, Part I

Last night, during another rolling blackout, Meg sat down at the piano. I didn't hesitate to make a request.

"Can you play 'Autumn in Vermont'?" (note: that isn't Meg playing in the YouTube link)

It had been a while, but seconds later the notes came back to her and we were all reacquainted with the song that she played for us the night we were engaged as well as the evening Heather walked down the aisle. It had become a favorite after she played it at a recital during one of my many jaunts prior to our wedding.

"Do you realize that it was four years ago that I came to visit El Paso for the first time?" I asked.

"It feels longer than that," Meg said.

"How long?"

"Ten years," she replied in perfect deadpan.

We all chuckled in the dark. I then started thinking back on that Friday, Saturday and Sunday in early February, 2007. It had been a decade since I had seen my future wife and step-daughter. Heather and I reconnected on Dec. 4, 2006 and after several weeks of phone calls, emails, texts, cards and letters back and forth, I boarded a late afternoon flight from Dallas and tried to keep my thoughts in check.

"It's just a weekend," I repeated to myself on the hour long ride. Meanwhile, Heather wrapped up her work week, cleaned the car, drove to the airport and, while on the way, called her Mom. "What in the heck am I doing?"

Later, after greeting each other with a warm hug followed by a short walk through the terminal, a hostess at the nearby Cattle Baron seated us. The dinner choice was a strategic decision on Heather's part.

"I wanted to be close to the airport just in case," she told me later.

Thankfully, it was an unnecessary precaution. The dialogue between us in person was as carefree as it had been from far away. We both relaxed, wondering what the next 48 hours held in store.

One degree

Heather can attest to my impatience with local broadcast news. Generally, I find the reporting light on substance, heavy on hyperbole and I enjoy mocking it endlessly. This is especially true when it comes to coverage of weather events. Here in El Paso, the slightest trace of rain is newsworthy given how sensitive the desert landscape is to flooding. Still, in my humble opinion, this does not excuse a news director from running a segment with a shot of a few drops of precipitation striking a shallow puddle accompanied by breathless commentary from the reporter speculating on what could happen next "if."

Over the last 48 hours, however, as Sun City has experienced some of its coldest days on record, including a low of one (ONE!) degree before the sun rose this morning,  I've been willing to cut these ladies and gentlemen a bit of slack. Watching them deliver their live shots street side shuddering in these freezing temperatures has been painful. Once they confirmed that Meg would get to sleep in, we turned the channel and tracked the thermometer on our phones.

Hanging out with Meg this week has brought back memories of snow days past in Bartlett, TN. In 1988, eight inches blanketed the streets of our home in the Hillshire neighborhood. My sister and I were out of school for five days and made several trips to the video store for the likes of "Summer School" and "Dirty Dancing." While Meg, Heather and I have not spent hours camped in front of our Vizio, we will always have the rolling blackouts in our living room midst candlelight.

"Let's sing a song," Heather suggested, enthusiastically, during one 30 minute stretch of darkness last night.

"Let's not," Meg countered.

After a brief round of "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean," we carried on in a more post-modern manner: keeping our friends and family updated on Facebook and Twitter using our mobile devices. Late this afternoon, we learned that Meg will have one more day off. Let the memory making continue.

 

 

Movie review: Cyrus

As someone who has self-published a book, I have a soft spot for creative types who are willing to invest the necessary resources into producing, marketing and distributing content on their own. On a business trip to Toronto a short time after I began hustling copies of Cypress Walls, I bought a CD from a waitress who was pursuing a singing career mainly because I related to her chase.

So it's always encouraging to hear about those with indy roots breaking through to the mainstream. About a year ago, I read about "Cyrus", a movie written and directed by New Orleans natives and Sundance alumni, Jay and Mark Duplass. Backed by strong word-of-mouth and a cast featuring John C. Reilly (down-on-his-luck editor, John), Marisa Tomei (Molly, John's love interest) and Jonah Hill (Molly's 22-year-old son, Cyrus), I added the flick to our Netflix queue. Last night, as the air turned frigid and the winds howled in El Paso, we plopped it into the DVD looking for a few chuckles.

My favorite scenes were near the beginning when John begrudgingly attends a party with his ex-wife and her fiancé. She's anxious for John to move on with his life and hopes that he'll meet someone who will completely take him off her hands. After a couple of awkward attempts to engage the ladies, an inebriated John walks outside for some air and stumbles into Molly. The two strike up a dialogue and a few minutes later they are dancing badly to '80s music. By the next day, they are a couple.

"I'm so glad I'm not single anymore," I said to Heather.

"It's worked out well for the both of us," she said in reply.

I can't say the same for the rest of "Cyrus." From there, the laughs dwindled and the story line took turns that were a little too cosmic. We lost interest midway through and became more concerned with the weather and Meg's prospects of getting a snow day. To her delight, she did.

On to Aggieland

In yesterday's post, I mentioned being an "affable step-father." While Megan would hopefully agree that we've had our fair share of warm moments since I moved to El Paso, she'd probably also point out that "affable/grumpy" would be a more fitting description. Just this afternoon she half-kiddingly said "you tire me" after we went through her current to-do list. So, like many of you, my futile quest for parenting perfection continues.

Lately, Meg's focus has been on checking off an increasing number of items related to her enrollment at Texas A&M University. She and I giddily opened her "congrats, you've been accepted" packet in mid-December in our kitchen (definitely a warm moment!) and since she surprised Heather and the rest of the family with the news on Christmas Eve, we've fully mobilized.  Our mission? Getting Meg to Aggieland next fall.

Over the last week, the task has been applying for housing. Like many campuses with humongous populations, dorms fill up quickly in College Station. "Don't wait too long," was the consistent piece of advice we were given during our visit in October. After consulting with several current students and a couple of online resources, Meg made her preferences known last night and completed the application. Today, we chose dates for summer orientation. Later, she'll need to sign up for Fish Camp. And then take a math assessment test. And then mail in her final transcripts. The "ands" will do nothing but mutate between now and 2015.

However, tedious, it's been so much fun for Heather and I to guide Meg through this time in her young life. We're already looking forward to spending a football weekend in College Station next fall and cheering on the Aggies!

Happy birthday to my Mom! Heather pointed out to me today, that  she shares a birthday with Lisa Marie Presley! Coincidentally, Lisa Marie's father and Heather's Mom were both born on January 8th!

 

Vocation, not vacation

So how was January for you? I didn't make any resolutions, but on this last day of the first month of 2011 I've been thinking about a bunch of items that need my attention and how to balance it all effectively. Sound familiar?

On my Twitter profile, I describe myself as a "PR Man, writer, social media fan, friend of gnomes everywhere, Lutheran, affable step-father and devoted husband." When I first wrote this several months ago, my goal was to inspire surfers around the Web to connect with me.

Since then, thanks to a Bible class at Trinity Lutheran, I now realize that this is more than just a pithy attempt to increase my following on a social network.  These are my vocations and the list serves as a constant reminder of my responsibilities and the priority I need to assign to each.

Three of the seven - PR Man, social media fan and friend of gnomes everywhere -  are dedicated to my work for Travelocity. These naturally get my attention Monday - Friday during normal business hours and occasionally on nights and weekends.

Devoted husband and affable step-father are about serving Heather and Megan's needs, respectively. Since assuming each of these roles three years ago, I've learned that while family vocations are easily the most rewarding, they are also the most dynamic and, at times, the trickiest to juggle.

Naturally, home life and work life are the vocations that get most of my time.  I'm sure like many of you, I feel compelled to give more to those that aren't always top-of-mind.  Volunteering as a Lutheran - outside of Sunday morning activities - falls into this category. Writing does too.

So as January winds down, I have new resolve to approach my committee work at church and keeping my blog updated with more discipline. Hopefully, sharpening these will help me be a more focused employee and a more dedicated spouse and father figure. I look forward to keeping you posted on my progress!

 

Movie review - The King's Speech

First, I can say with conviction that "The King's Speech" is worthy of its Best Picture nomination and that Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter all earned their walks on the red carpet next month.

If you're thinking about seeing it though Heather and I would advise not eating a steak dinner early in the evening and then taking in a later show - especially on a Friday following a draining work week. We were alive and kicking when we arrived to the theatre for the 10:25, but that was still an hour before our normal bedtime and we had each drained a Starbucks after leaving the restaurant. Once the clock crept past midnight, however, our eyes started getting heavy. With about 15 minutes left, Heather asked, "Is it almost over?" I assured her that it was and we rallied for the climactic scene.

So, as is common of any British historical piece, the pace of "The King's Speech" is slow and drawn out in places.  But the storyline - King George VI (Firth) reluctantly taking the throne from his loser brother King Edward VIII (Guy Pearce) and how he overcame his phobia of public speaking thanks to his wife (Bonham Carter) seeking the help of eccentric speech therapist Lionel Loge (Rush) - is solid and fairly easy to follow.

The film is propelled by the outstanding performances of Firth and Rush. The duo's give-and-take was at its finest in Loge's office as therapist and patient worked through not only the King's stammer, but other deep-seeded psychological issues that he had dealt with his entire life. Here the audience is given insights into what it's like bearing the burden of being part of the Royal family, however symbolic their roles may be.

If you're interested in learning more check out this interview with Geoffrey Rush. We saw the video that accompanied it on CBS Sunday Morning.