And the Oscar goes to...

Glitz, glamour and gaudiness will be making their 83rd annual appearance on ABC tonight. That's right, the Academy Awards have finally arrived, celebrating the best in film, or perhaps, the most popular?

Last year, I have to admit, I was one "Avatar" best picture away from losing any respect I had left for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. I was convinced that they'd sold out to the money-making crowd-pleasers, simply feeding the mob what they wanted. I was convinced it had become about who made the most money. The battle, for me, came down to spectacle over substance. "Avatar" represented spectacle, a term Director James Cameron seems to have made his own genre. It was the same with "Titanic," grand in terms of scale, not-so-grand in terms of writing and substance. Now, not to be too harsh to Cameron, he's good at what he does. His movies aren't bad. I just don't think they're great.

"The Hurt Locker" represented the substance for me, last year. And sure enough, the Academy shocked me by awarding the low-budget, little-known film about the psychological effects of war on one man, with Best Picture. It was a subtle yet powerful character study with strong writing and strong performances. It didn't need spectacle.

Hence, the awarding of Best Picture to this movie restored my faith in the Academy.

Now, this year, while I still think 10 Best Picture nominees cheapens the category, I at least approve of all 10 in the category. It should be an interesting race, while I think the big prize is going to come down to "The King's Speech" and "The Social Network."

If there was an equivalent to the "Avatar" of last year, I think it'd have to be "The Social Network," as far as popularity and public impact. "The Social Network," however, I feel has far and away more substance. May the best movie win.

I'm optimistic about the new, young blood they've brought in to host this year's ceremony, James Franco and Anne Hathaway. Should be entertaining. I did love Hugh Jackman, too, so we'll see how these two stack up.

And as always, gotta love the fashion watch. Really, the only hope I have for the night is an absence of bad jokes, presence of musical numbers and Natalie Portman taking home Best Actress. Otherwise, I plan to sit back and enjoy it, not as a night to worship and pander to the Hollywood elite, but a night to celebrate the reasons that filmmaking truly is an art form.

Grub and the Lost Boys (and Girls)

Who would've thought ten minutes in a tiny eight-lane bowling alley would turn out to be the best part of my Friday.

I recently had a brief conversation with a worker at the Lincoln County Courthouse about how neat my job is because it allows me to meet such a variety of people. That is the best part, the people I get to meet. The writing is my second favorite part. People put the life in the writing.

From 9 a.m. until about noon this morning, I sat at my desk and retyped old newspaper entries for a "this day in history" type thing. For three hours. It felt like the longest Friday morning of my career to date.

Thinking I would be doomed to regurgitate who was who's coffee guest in 1961 Beloit for the next four hours, my boss gave me the welcome news that I could take off early. I did have a short appointment at 4 p.m., but we decided I could just run back into town for that.

While I didn't mind starting my weekend early, I wasn't terribly thrilled about having to go back into town at 4. All I had to do was stop by the Canton bowling alley and photograph the owner and his dad, the former owner, for a story I had already written about them.

So, at 3:45, I made the jaunt back into town. I'd already met Jeff, or "Grub," the owner, but today I also had the pleasure of meeting his dad, Don, for a brief few minutes. I learned that he used to not only work for my newspaper, but also the Sioux Falls newspaper, the Argus Leader, as a printer. You know, back when they did it the old-fashioned way, by hand, laid everything out. We talked about changing technology, "funky gadgets" and the wonders of digital cameras. I got to see "Grub" interact with 30-some middle schoolers at the alley for their weekly bowling league shenanigans. He playfully told a girl shoes would cost her 10 million dollars.

When I finally got around to taking the photo, they suggested I take their picture along with all the kids. The kids, after all, are one the biggest reasons Don and Grub keep coming back to this place.

Their little family lined up in front of the bowling lanes, the kids giddy that they were going to be in the newspaper and Don and Grub playfully grumbling that people were going to have to look at them.

"Now, pretend you're normal," Grub told the kids.

We took one normal picture.

"Ok, now go crazy!" I told them. They were very obedient.

I snapped my last photo, thanked the kids, told Don it was nice to meet him and smiled and waved at Grub as I made my way out. I caught myself singing as I walked to my car.

That dingy little eight-lane bowling alley transformed into the magical equivalent of a summer tree-house, almost like their own crew of lost boys (and girls). I don't know if that makes sense, but it sure gave me a warm fuzzy feeling.

One Of Those Moments

It's ten minutes to four. I'm in the office alone, impatiently watching the second hand tick away towards closing time.

In comes a customer. What could a customer *possibly* need to do at 3:50 p.m. on a Friday afternoon? Go out and get a life, I (rudely) thought to myself. Really, I was just spectacularly annoyed by the thought that this person might keep me here past four o'lock.

Of *course,* this person needed to make what seemed like 2,000 copies of *something,* something I was convinced could not be anything more important than my schedule. I put on a fake smile and tell the woman, of *course* you can use the copier, no problem! Take your time!

And, she did. A whole TWO MINUTES past closing time. Queen of Sheba here, I was thinking. Take your time, NOT.

As it turns out, while not the Queen of Sheba, she *was* the reason I was able to complete a story I'd been working on all week that should've been done that afternoon.

The final copy finally pumps out of the copier. The woman makes some friendly small talk as she heads towards the door, of which I remember nothing because all I recall was thinking, "Stop talking and LEAVE already!"

The second I hear the *ding* of the door closing, I grab my key and violently propel myself towards the front door and lock that sucker like there's no tomorrow. Flipping off the light switches, I briskly walk back through the now-dark office, grabbing my things and bolting for the time clock. Just as I grab my time card, the phone rings.

Now five after four, my first thought is to ignore it. We're closed, I say aloud to the indifferent walls. But then, for some reason, I sigh very loudly, as if the darkness will sympathize with my annoyance, and stomp over to the phone.

"Sioux Valley News, this is Laura."

"Hi, my name is Lisa, you had e-mailed my mom and said you needed photos for your story about my brother?"

You know those moments, when people say it was a "God thing?" This was one of those moments. I'd been trying to track down photos for a story I had written for several days, and was slightly worried going into the weekend without them. We put the paper together on Mondays, and like to have everything in order on Friday.

Had I not answered the phone, they would not have known we put the paper together on Mondays and would not have had them sent in. Had the copier lady not stayed two minutes after closing time, I would have been out that door at 4:01, missed the phone call, and had no photos for my story on Monday.

I suddenly felt very sheepish for being so childishly annoyed. And very thankful that God just shakes his head and chuckles.

It Is What It Is

It's amazing what a little perspective can do to over-used phrases.

I learned something from a Marine today. He told me war is what it is. I understood the idea of what he was going for when he said it, but it wasn't until I'd had an hour-long conversation with him that it became saturated with meaning.

"It is what it is" isn't a new phrase. But it is something I've never heard someone use to cope with a battered battalion suffering 20+ casualties and coming back, angry, to a society that complains about long check-out lines when he was thankful for clean concrete to sleep on.

But he wasn't angry. Well, not after a few days of adjustment. That's all it is, he said. An adjustment. It is what it is. He said bitterness isn't something you choose to stave off. You either let it get to you or you don't.

His ability to say that, and accept it, astounded me. His descriptions of a day in Afghanistan, what he saw, heard, felt, will never forget, would be enough to make anyone bitter. He lost close friends and even his own foot. What happened...happened.

Taking things one day at a time, one step at a time even, is sometimes easier said than done. But that's exactly what he's doing. If you dwell too much on the pain, it overwhelms you. It'd be too painful. If you get your hopes set too high on expectations for the future, it hurts too much to let go.

You don't forget the past, but you don't dwell on it. You don't ignore the future, but you don't obsess over it. It is what it is. Move with it, take it as it comes. We're in good hands.

The closest I could come to understanding his application of the phrase to war was a line from the movie Black Hawk Down: "When I go home people'll ask me, "Hey Hoot, why do you do it man? What, you some kinda war junkie?" You know what I'll say? I won't say a goddamn word. Why? They won't understand. They won't understand why we do it. They won't understand that it's about the men next to you, and that's it. That's all it is."

It might start about the politics, or patriotism, or a even a personal vendetta. While I've never been in their shoes, I think they might tell you that changes pretty quickly. He didn't over-sensationalize or underwhelm. He just said it is what it is. He came back to a God that never left him and family that never stopped loving him, with two years behind him he'll never forget.

NOTE: This outlook reminded me, while in a completely different circumstance, of the outlook needed to push forward in the wake of losing my then 3 1/2 year-old sister Tarah. Too painful to dwell on, too hard to imagine how you're going to live without them down the road. All you can do it take one step forward and trust. While I don't think I'll ever be able to chalk losing her up to "it is what it is," the philosophy behind it, and behind a loving God that isn't going anywhere, seems like a pretty good place to start.

Hello 2011!

Blog, welcome to 2011. I haven't dusted you off since before the New Year. Boy does time fly.

So far, it hasn't been too shabby. The year. Almost three months in already, I've had a birthday, visited a new city, chased bald eagles, seen my football team win the Super Bowl and gotten a hair cut.

Well, more than that has happened, but I guess mostly, things are comfortably the same. Little quirks save most days from boredom, so not a bad comfortable; life is what it is.

Nine months out of college, I'm just glad I'm not clawing the paint off the walls, bemoaning that I'm not a young hotshot somewhere living the dream. This is how the dream starts...wherever you happen to be! And I'm here, Canton, South Dakota. Well, why not?

Social Demise?

I just saw the movie "The Social Network" last night, which ironically coincided with the following conversation I had with someone the day before. Here's what he had to say:

"I think it’s too bad that there’s so much that’s wrapped up in computers. It falls into the line of what seems to be going on socially where people are so wound up in unseen connections. They’re not face-to-face, and there’s a lot that needs to happen face-to-face to understand each other. It’s hard to tutor when they’re on their cell phones. You wonder what’s getting through. I think it’s a social demise, I don’t think it’s going to help socially. It’s like the difference between knowing you and knowing your phone number. You could ask all the same questions but I’m not going to have the same patience. Socially, we’re not planning a lot of guidance that way, people have two or three or four phones now. There’s a lot you lose. There’s going to be some serious social issues."

Agree? Obviously there are pros and cons to almost anything. I guess the questions are a) which one outweighs the other and b) what you use it for [technology]. The movie illustrated how easy the internet can be used to destroy someone's life. You post a hurtful remark or picture about someone and it circulates an uncontrollable wildfire in seconds. It can also be used to connect someone in a fraction of a second half-way around the world who you may never have been able to talk to otherwise.

So is this guy right in saying that the more we rely on technology, the more we lose in relationships? Or is it just a matter of using it correctly? Is the growing sophistication of online profiles and identities making face-to-face contact less and less important?

I agree with this guy in that there are definitely things missed when you're not face-to-face. Body language, tone, facial expressions. Quirks that are unique to that person are lost. Sarcastic tones can't be identified through text messages. Eye brow raises can't be seen over the phone. There's not substitute for the real thing. But when you can't have that, technology is the next-best thing. Skype, for example, was cited by a military mother as a great resource for getting to talk to her son while in Afghanistan. If she *could* talk to him face-to-face, obviously she would've, but this was her best option. My mom loves that I can show her pictures and tell her the status updates of my brothers in Texas and New York.

So yes, it can obviously be used for good or ill. But when will it get too ill, if ever? (I love that I'm using Facebook to ask this, too. Oh, the irony)

This is what I do after I see movies. By the way, I don't think the point of "The Social Network" was about the danger of technology, or the good of it. It was more about the cost of greatness and if it's worth it...or something like that. A "Citizen Kane" type-thing. But it still prompted this.

The Brownie Saga

The modestly-sized Tea Event Hall is filled to the max, chair-to-chair. All eyes are fixed intently on the VIP speaker of the night, speechifying from his podium at the front of the room. Like the rest of the room, I'm focused on the guy, too. So focused that I almost don't notice my pocket is buzzing.

I discreetly glance downward as I pull the phone out just far enough to see it's a call from home. I momentarily consider stepping out to call them back, just in case. Keep in mind, "home" meant the call was either from Jonathan, Sam, Hannah or Tabby. This could be a call from anything from they want us to bring them ice cream when we come home to someone fell down the stairs. I decided, eh, if they only call once, it's probably nothing serious.

Five minutes later...*buuuuzzzzzz.* My friend noticed it, too, and asked if it was home again. When I nodded we both sported some pretty quizzical looks. Nah, I decided. I'll call back when the guy's done speaking.

I got back into focus mode and continued to listen. Five minutes later, I hear a really obnoxious ringtone tune echo throughout the entire room, or so it seemed. I'm thinking, what idiot forgot to put their phone on silent?

Oops...it was Mom's phone! I immediatley leaned across the table and quietly asked Mom if it was a call from home. When she nodded I figured she would probably want to know that they'd already called me twice. We both went into mildly concerned mode and asked Dad to step out and call them back, just in case.

"It's probably Sam asking if he can make popcorn," Dad scoffed. "Please?" Mom asked. "What if something happened?"

Reluctantly, Dad exited the room in the middle of the speech. Yes, there were stares from condescending attendees. But Dad loves us that much.

I wasn't as able to concentrate on the speaker for the next five minutes, with thoughts of what in the world they could be calling about running through my head. Dad finally came back in, with an impossible-to-read expression on his face. He sat down quietly next to Mom and whispered something to her. All I caught was, "You'd probably laugh if I told you."

At least I had a sense of relief now, knowing it was nothing serious. But my curiosity remained unsatisfied. I patiently waited for the speaker to finish his speech (which was a good speech, by the way...not to take anything away from it).
He finished, there was thunderous applause and standing, and the moment finally arrived.

"Dad, what was it?" I asked immediatley. Dad chuckled to himself as he leaned across the table. Moment of truth!

"You're going to laugh," Dad said. "It was Jonthan asking if he could frost the brownies."

Something important to note: Jonathan is 18 years old.
Ok, back to the story: I had made brownies earlier that afternoon, but hadn't had time to frost them before we left for this dinner. Jonathan apparently could not wait until we came home to a) have me frost them or b) ask then or, heaven forbid, c) frost them without asking.

So we all have a good laugh about how ridiculous this was in the first place, let alone coming from an 18 year old. We part ways for the night and drive home as we ponder how big a mess Jonathan may or may not have made of the brownies. Since dessert had not been served at the dinner, we were looking forward to them.
We get back home to find Jonathan sitting at the kitchen counter glued to his computer, surrounded by the younger chillins. We give him a hard time about the stunt he pulled before going straight to the specimen.

"They're in the freezer," Tabby declares. She also gave a fun back story about how Jonathan almost broke the glass container the frosting had been in trying to mix it and almost knocked it off the counter. I asked Jonathan if he was glad he had Tabby to tell us these things. He didn't answer.

The freezer? Why are the brownies in the freezer?

"The frosting was runny," Johnny said. "So I put the brownies in the freezer."
Now, the frosting should not have been runny. I made it myself. All he had to do was mix it up a bit with the beater before putting it on the brownies. Apparently someone stuck it back in the freezer (I'd taken it out to thaw before we left). Also, apparently Jonthan added milk to it. And it must've been quite a generous helping, too, because the frosting was practically liquid! Mom and I laughed out loud when we pulled the pan out of the freezer and got our first look at the pool of frosting on top.

We figured it was at least still edible. So...I begin to cut them. Or, try to, I should say. It was hard as a rock. When we FINALLY, between me and my brother Sam, got the brownies cut (and a sprained wrist), we dug in. The funniest part of the frosting was once the first piece was taken out, the river of runny frosting oozed over the side.

It was a good laugh, though. And at least it still tasted good.