From the NYTimes movie review section comes an Everyman story for our time: Tom Hanks plays Mr. Rogers. It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood! Read it all, here. Maybe even go see the movie? Nah. No sense going overboard. Not even for an Everyman.
In our interview, he says “oh dear” and “geez” and “for cryin’ out loud.” He is a history enthusiast. He is an information enthusiast. He is an enthusiasm enthusiast. At one point, I can’t remember why, he recited the Preamble to the Constitution.
What you need to know about Tom Hanks
He collects old typewriters. He even wrote a book of short stories called “Uncommon Type.” Each story features an old typewriter.
His last Oscar was for Forrest Gump. Before that, for Philadelphia.
He drives a 2007 Scion xB. Had it retrofitted with an electric motor.
The reason he doesn’t play bad guys? He doesn’t scare anyone.
What you need to know about Mr. Rogers
He was a Lutheran minister before he was a children’s TV host.
In real life he was as nice as on TV. Much nicer than Tom Hanks.
He never was involved in a scandal. Also never won an Oscar.
More reading material: Two recent offerings from two grande dames of American letters. And just in time for NaNoWriMo, no less. OK, I lied. One of these ladies is not American at all. But Canadian writer Joyce Carol Oates’ new novel is set in the U.S. Well, South Niagara Falls counts as America, right? Just across the border from Oates’ native Ontario, but still.
“My Life as a Rat” is the harrowing tale of a young girl named Violet Rue. She “rats” on her older brothers following their senseless murder of a young black classmate. Sent to live with her aunt and uncle for her own protection, she is kept away from more vengeful family members. But then she ends up getting sexually abused by a truly creepy high school math teacher. I’m telling you, it’s enough to put you off the Pythagorean Theorem for good. But one thing’s for sure, Oates can write. And this one, if you can stomach the daunting subject matter, is well worth pressing on through to the bitter end.
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Also worth the effort is Nevada Barr’s latest. It’s called “What Rose Forgot.” I gotta admit, I almost put it down after the first chapter. Set in soulless suburbs of Charlotte, NC, the story starts off surreal. It appears to be a first person account of early-onset Alzheimer’s. But after settling down into the familiar tropes of the murder mystery genre, Barr returns to her old literary self – thank goodness. Her protagonist – who begins the novel “incarcerated” in a “Memory Care Unit” – similarly breaks free after realizing she’s been poisoned and is not suffering from senile dementia at all. When the dust finally settles, she does, however, remain in Charlotte. Ah well – life can’t all be roses.
The culprit in this case turns out to be… well, no sense spoiling your fun here with an untimely reveal. Let’s just say that, in spite of a lurking evil night nurse, and regardless of what part of the country you’re in at whatever stage of life, it always pays to maintain a healthy suspicion of kith and kin. And that, dear friends and family, is all I’m going to say about that.
Two exhibitions going on at the Getty right now. One is works by Edouard Manet. Don’t get confused. Manet was a contemporary of Monet. Both were 19th century French Impressionists. But to see Monet, you’ll have to go to the Denver Art Museum, not the Getty. Both exhibits are well worth the price of admission – and admission’s always free at the Getty. Parking, however, is gonna run you twenty bucks – sorry. This is LA, after all.
The other current Getty offering is a collection of mostly black-and-whites, presented jointly with the Art Institute of Chicago. Called “True Grit: American Prints and Photos, 1900-1950,” the title is of course an homage to the iconic John Wayne western. But much of this work centers around urban landscapes. So, if you you’re drawn to stuff like, say, Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks,” you’ll love this one. My personal favorite? See below.
Cityscape, NYC.
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And if you’re stuck in the cold snowy Northeast right now, there’s always this guy to keep you company. Also to remind you: Hey, yer NOT in LA anymore…
I will forego my semi-annual rant against daylight savings time and say simply: Don’t forget to turn your clocks back tonight, folks! And sleep in tomorrow. You don’t have to like it. Just do it. After all, you earned it…
Turn clocks back! I mean it!
There. Public Service Announcement duty fulfilled.
If enough people say it, the message gets through.
Right????
POST PSA ADDENDUM
I am sitting in a Starbucks in Santa Monica. It being Starbucks, there’s the usual assortment of hipsters and hangers-on. The place is full even though it’s mid-afternoon. It being Santa Monica, I’m taking a break from walking the beach. Parking is free for 2 hours only, and they are serious about writing parking tickets. I saw them towing a car with Texas plates near where I parked. And this is Sunday. So, after walking 6 miles – 3 miles down and back from Venice Beach – I figured I better move my car.
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The guy sitting next to me is – I assume – homeless. He’s wearing a scuffed knee-length black leather duster, and a skeleton Halloween mask. I kid you not. Maybe he’s just an aspiring actor? In any case, he’s thumbing furiously on his phone. The homeless and the actors here all have better phones than me. I am still on the iPhone3… just for the record.
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It’s 73 degrees outside, as it is almost 365-days-a-year. Truly paradise on earth. Well, except for the homeless, who are always with us. We lived near here 30 years ago when we first moved to L.A. I always park on the street where we lived back then, because it’s convenient to the beach. And it’s free… for two hours at a shot, at least.
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I’ll probably go back to the beach for another 6 mile jaunt before heading back over the first row of mountains – across Topanga Canyon – to the place I’m renting in the Valley near work. It’s less than 15 miles from there to here, so the beach is really always an option, at least while the days are still long enough. Today being the day after the time change, I even have an extra hour of daylight. Is this a great country or what?
Just in time for the first of November comes this post from Merriam Webster, called “How About Them Apples?” It details a collection of apple-related products, from cider to schnitz, and pretty much everything in between.
Growing up on a Pennsylvania fruit farm, I had more than my share of apples. From picking to jelly-making, apples dominated our lives each fall. They were our biggest cash crop. And as part of the Knouse Foods Cooperative, Wolf Bros. Fruit Farm provided York Imperials for sauce and juice, as well as Stamen Winesap and Golden Delicious for sale as fresh fruit at our family’s stand on Broad Street Market in Harrisburg.
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I liked picking apples in the fall a whole lot more than trimming apple trees in the winter. The weather was better, for one thing. And most fall evenings would find our whole extended family in the apple shed at the back of the barn, grading apples. That involved running a contraption called a “grader” which had a series of rollers and long metal chains with various sized openings to sort the apples into “firsts,” “seconds,” and “culls” – meaning anything damaged or deformed. (The tiniest fruits and culls went into the cider bin.) By 9:30 or so I usually was yawning. But I also usually still had homework to do. Hey, it’s a living.
So, whether it’s an old-school variety like Macintosh, or a newfangled breed like Honeycrisp, have an apple a day. It’ll keep the doctor away. And it might even make an old apple farmer smile.
