So sorry, Elton ... we aren't ALL like that

I am an Arkansan. I was born in Texas, went to school in Texas, spent a brief insanity-filled spell in Louisiana, but I was raised and I currently reside in Arkansas. And I feel the need today to defend her.

I had always been a bit detached from the state, mainly because of sports. Anyone who knows my family knows that sports occupy a large portion of our frontal lobe. Football, basketball, baseball, olympic events, the occasional celebrity poker tournament ... we watch it all. Being proud members of the Baylor University family (and I have had to defend those people at various times in my life, believe me), I had to grow up in the era of the Southwest Conference. A Baylor supporter in the land of the Razorbacks caused me more than a little grief, and the "Hog Call" was a like a tornado siren to me. 

But that has ebbed. I will never put a Hog hat on my fragile noggin, but I can watch the Sugar Bowl without bursting a blood vessel. 

My love for my state has come in my adult years, and although I have no problem packing up my things if the right job opportunity came along (seriously, are there any jobs out there?), my home is here, and despite birds falling from the sky, I plan to make it my home for as long as possible.

That's what made some recent news so disheartening. It seems that an "Us" magazine cover depicting Sir Elton John and his partner/husband holding his newly adopted baby was deemed "offensive" by patrons of the Harps Grocery Store in Mountain Home. A plastic shield was placed over the image with the absolutely laughable tagline: "Family Shield. To protect young Harps shoppers." If they really wanted to protect young Harps shoppers, maybe they should put a shield on the Butterfingers.

That's sad enough, but what I am most upset about is the knee-jerk reaction that has become the norm these days. In one message board discussing the news story, the title read, "Arkansas: #1 in intolerance and homophobia." Posts inside contained cutting remarks, such as, "Stay classy, Arkansas" and "Another reason to avoid Arkansas." During my feeble attempt to paint the reaction as blanket stereotypes, I was given this comeback: "Sometimes stereotyping is bad. Sometimes it's just faster."

Instead of letting this go (actually, this has all been resolved and the magazine sits proudly without a shield, but more on that later), I have decided to analyze what we know and what we can surmise so that when we paint with a broad brush, maybe we can keep our work inside the lines.

Let's take the actual magazine cover. To be offensive to someone who does not approve of same sex couples adopting children, that person would have to know exactly what the picture on the cover was promoting. Someone wandering through a checkout line who was not overly familiar with Elton John or his lifestyle wouldn't be able to make that connection based on the information given. The mag shows John holding a baby with David Furnish. The headline reads: "Elton's Baby!" One can assume they are a couple, but it is not stated. How many younger shoppers would give that cover a second look anyway? How many would decipher the image and the words and decide that they have been corrupted? My over/under would stand at zero.

So ...

What we think we know: Cover including gay couple with newborn adopted son is offensive to several shoppers in Mountain Home. Manager places "shield" over magazine to show "compassion."  Pic showing shield is tweeted out, and the Internet is abuzz.

What we do know: Shield was placed. Pic was tweeted. Shield was removed.

What we don't know: We don't know if anyone complained. That is the story from management. This could very well be the case of one man on one shift having a problem and "dealing with it." Maybe someone complained. Maybe two people complained. But all we know is that a decision was made most likely by one man. I don't really see this person gathering all the cashiers and stockboys together.

Manager: "Listen, I like 'Crocodile Rock' as much as the next person, but do we really need to see this next to the Cheetos? Let's put her to a vote!"

Nah, the circumstantial evidence says that this was the decision of one person. And if it weren't for a regular shopper, Jennifer Huddleston, it would have gone unnoticed. Huddleston saw the shield, took a pic and pleaded for someone to get the news out. I must admit that if I had seen it, I probably would have thought that the magazine was in the wrong place. More than likely, I would have rolled my eyes. I am not sure I would have taken a pic and sent it to Anderson Cooper.

So we have the actions of Huddleston vs. the actions of a manager. Seems to me like those two viewpoints cancel each other out. And in the defense of the Harps chain, their response was quick and honest, and the matter was reversed.

"We reviewed the magazine in question, removed the shield and are selling the magazine in all our locations without any shield. Our true intention is not to offend anyone in our stores, and this incident happened at just one of our 65 locations, which when brought to our attention, we reversed." Good for them.

Incidents like this make me sad, mainly because Arkansas has such a diverse population. We have been the home of presidents and presidential candidates. But headlines choose to use the entire state when fishing for news items. Instead of using Huddleston in the headline — "Local woman shines light on intolerant magazine shield" — the headlines use "Arkansas" and "censor" pretty close together.

This is a minor incident to be sure, but it does show what lies in the hearts of some people. So if Arkansas needs to take the bullet for a feeble-minded individual, I guess we can take it. We are a part of that mean-ole south mentality. Us and Mississippi and Alabama and Georgia ... which happens to be the U.S. home of Elton John. I wonder where he shops for groceries?

'Magnolia' and the power of forgiveness

And if you do not let them go, I shall unleash a plague of frogs upon you. — Exodus 8:2

My favorite film of all time is Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia." I decided this about halfway through watching it the first time, and it was confirmed over and over during the second half. With a running time of about three hours, that's a lot of confirmations.

What also gives me joy is that it is such a polarizing film. I know good, smart people that absolutely hate it. It's not "Titanic." It's not all things to all people. In fact, there are many films that I would rather watch over and over again. I can only really get into "Magnolia" about once a year. I could probably watch "When Harry Met Sally ..." every day.

But many films are harmless. They are classics and unforgettable and harmless. "Magnolia" is not that at all. I don't expect to ever see it on TNT in place of the endless marathon of "Shawshank Redemption," a film which I also love. "Magnolia" will likely be filed away, only to be brought out as filler for a Tom Cruise retrospective. That suits me just fine.  

What is interesting is that 11 years after it was first released, I appreciate it on a different level than I did when I first saw it. Back then, I was amazed by the artistry, the unconventional stories, the melodrama, the over-the-top-ness of it all, but most of all, for wearing its heart on its sleeve. Now, when I see it again, I understand everything I loved before, but I also see the desperate need for forgiveness that each of the characters possess. It's not that this was hidden. In fact, it's the primary motive for everyone in the movie, but when you come to a point in your life where forgiveness is asked for on a daily basis, certain themes in films you like tend to be highlighted a bit more often.

For the uninitiated, "Magnolia" takes place in Los Angeles in the late 1990s, and it revolves around a large group of seemingly random suburbanites who deal with their daily lives unaware that there are forces beyond their control, God or the fates ... or frogs. But we'll get to that.

There is the game show host who cheats on his wife and may have molested his daughter. The daughter is now a drug addict whose lifestyle has brought her in contact with a police officer, who is good at his job but prefers to look past her indiscretions because he just wants someone to be in love with. The game show has two contestants, one current boy, who is being used by his father because of his extensive knowledge, and one former one, whose popularity is dried up along with his winnings. His need for braces is not mandatory, and the revelation on why he wants them is heartbreaking and sweet. The game show is part of a media empire owned by a dying man, whose second wife may look to be a trophy but who is going through her own personal hell. The man's caretaker finds his long lost son, a motivational speaker who wants nothing to do with the man who abandoned him and his mother years before. So are we all caught up?

The set up sounds depressing. It's not. These are not happy people, but they are alive, and the film is as well. Anderson, whose best known work is "Boogie Nights" and who popularized the now-famous phrase, "I drink your milkshake," is nothing if not daring. His directing is one of style as well as substance. This film is long, and it does not have any car chases or explosions, but the time flies because the film is constantly building toward several emotional climaxes. This is the big screen version of Barber's "Adagio For Strings." 

And then there are the frogs. This is usually the moment that divides most people who watch the film. As we chug toward some form of conclusion, only minutes from the end, one frog falls out of the sky. And then another ... and another ... and then a huge wave. They wreak havoc all over the city. They cause one man to fall and break his face. They cause another to botch a suicide attempt. It is scary and dramatic ... and yes, a bit funny. And then it is over. This should not have been entirely unexpected. For most of the movie, references are made to the event. During the beginning of the game show, a man holds up an "Exodus 8:2" sign. Random 8's and 2's pop up throughout, whether they be on playing cards or weeds or weather forecasts.

For those non-believers, there is the science of the event. If you choose to believe that God did not send down the frogs, you can point to several events in modern history that could explain it. There are many instances where violent thunderstorms can suck up amphibians over a pond and deposit them miles away. In that case, foreshadowing is also provided by the scuba diver who was sucked into the airplane and deposited over a forest at the beginning of the movie.

Where most people get upset is that something so random could affect an otherwise realistic film. It may be that people want their reality in one box and their fantasy in another. If they are going to see "The Blind Side," they don't want a Transformer showing up in the middle of it. I understand that.

I see the frogs in the more biblical manner, however. The verse, repeated over and over, "If you do not let them go, I shall unleash a plague of frogs upon you," is haunting. For scholars of the Old Testament — or to anyone who ever watched "The Ten Commandments" — we know that God is talking about the Isrealites. They are to be let go. But in this case, it is talking about forgiveness. Each character is holding onto a grudge, some petty, some very understandable, but they are unable to forgive despite given ample opportunities. Finally God has had enough, and he send them a little shower.

The film deals with how we have wronged others and how parents (particularly fathers) have wronged their children. I was abandoned by my father, though not by choice. He passed away when I was seven, and though I am thankful to never have had the experiences that many of these characters must go through, I often wonder how my life would have been different if I had a father in my formative years. My recollections of him are few and far between, and since videotape was not a staple in the 1970s, I have no idea what his voice sounds like.

Sometimes I get mad. He was a smoker, and I am sure that it contributed to his early exit. I have never touched a cigarette in my life because of that. At least I know that his leaving was not planned, but it doesn't stop me from still dealing with the loss 30 years later. As the line on the film goes, "We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us."

But I never felt the need to have to forgive him. I have had to deal with forgiving myself. There is much of that as well in "Magnolia." In every single one of our lives, there is that point where we feel like we are not capable of forgiveness or love. For some of us, it may last a minute. For others, a few weeks. For many of us, it crops up throughout our lives.

While those of us ask for forgiveness of God and of others, it is so important that we forgive ourselves. The burdens of our sins are too much to carry around. They can cause despair and loneliness. It shouldn't take a plague to make us realize that life is too short to hold grudges, to beat ourselves and others up. The single best shot of the movie is the last one, a long, lingering hold on the woman who realizes that whatever her problems are, there is someone who forgives her. Although we cannot make out exactly what is being said. her slow inevitable smile is absolute joy that sends us out of the movie with the expectation of being better people. That's what the best movies do.

You can't handle the truth!

I started watching "Dexter" last night for the first time ever. By myself. In my dark house. All alone. Because that's the kind of livin'-on-the-edge guy I am.

For those of you who do not know, "Dexter" is the story of a serial killer, presumably with a heart of gold. Like many of us, I watch what I watch, and I rarely get around to anything else. 

"What? You've never seen 'Grey's Anatomy?' Are you living under a rock?" "Did you know that 60 million people watch 'American Idol?' " Yeah, well that still puts me in the majority who don't.

Back to this Dexter fella. He's a serial killer, yes, but he works forensics for the Miami Police Department. His need to kill stems from something buried deep in his past — I watched four episodes, so I don't know everything yet — but he has been able to funnel his skills and hunger toward killing those who have killed others. Yes, it's a bit dramatic and over-the-top. I don't tend to believe that there are that many premeditated murders in a 90-mile radius every week. But I guess you have to roll with it. This work that he does, "taking out the garbage," endears us to him, makes him a sort of hero, even though he still has a glint of the crazy eyes that apparently only we can see. Kids, this ain't "Toy Story."

The drama comes from his secret and from his lies. He is living a double life. He has hidden his acts and his impulses from his co-workers, from his sister and from his girlfriend. We are the only ones who know his secret, and because we are now identifying with him, we have no problem when he lies.

This is not uncommon for television. The notion of the anti-hero is not new, nor is it rare. Anyone who followed "The Sopranos" knows that. Or "Big Love" or "True Blood" or "Boardwalk Empire" or "Mad Men" or "Damages." How we as an audience come to root for and sympathize with these people, who we would otherwise despise in real life is maybe a catharsis for us, a way to purge the bad parts of ourselves and place them in the hands of someone who is better off dealing with them.

There are not many Atticus Finches anymore. Actors want characters with flaws. Why is Batman so much more attractive to an audience than Superman? Why do we love to see cops go undercover, creating a whole new persona in order to achieve the ultimate good in the end?

Another show that I have followed intently has been "Breaking Bad," a story about a chemistry teacher who has been given a death sentence through cancer. The only way he can possibly provide for his wife and two children is to manufacture and sell crystal meth. He works out the morality rather quickly and keeps his second life a secret for quite a while. Every step he takes in justifying himself, however, has dire consequences, and the spiral downward continues with every episode.

Walter White, the main character, is not evil. I haven't spoken to anyone who wants to see him fail. They just want to see him get out of the mess he created for himself. And maybe that's as far as we need to go in our transference. Or maybe we root for these people because if they can manage to succeed in spite of their flaws, we can too.

I am not suggesting that either serial killing or selling hard drugs is justifiable (it is pretty amazing writing and acting that can get us to sympathize with those two acts), but we all have secrets. And we all have lied. And we all have a shade of ourselves that we wish no one else would ever see.

Maybe I am going down the wrong road here. I never watched these shows as any sort of justification of my own behavior, however miniscule it is to grand scale felonies. But I saw ... well ... good intentions, and nearly every single one was for protection. Protection of family and of loved ones. But while it makes for good drama, good intentions and protection are not enough in real life.

I have learned this the hard way. Whatever you feel like you are doing to make any situation better in the eyes of your spouse or your children or your family or friends, it achieves nothing within the veil of dishonesty. If you lose everything by telling the truth, it wasn't worth having in the first place. If you lose because of secrets and lies, you will never know how good it was.

So I will continue to watch and to root and to sympathize, but maybe I will also hope that the truth can set these people free. It may not be good television, but it is much better for the soul.

Love songs and those left in their wake

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

Tennyson was a quack. Of course, I have the right to say that, at least for a while. Loving and losing is the worst feeling, and although that famous quote has been with me since my teenage years, I never put much thought into it. Most of my life was filled with "not loving," and I was fine. So I guess I thought he was a quack then as well.

I glossed over a lot of thoughts and words about love during my life. They didn't mean anything. I had good reason since I grew up in the era of the power ballad, the most cliched of all love songs. Seriously, "Every Rose Has Its Thorn?" Tennyson may be a quack when it comes to love, but at least he could craft a better line than that.

Music has been a driving force in my life, but I must admit that it has always been the music rather than the lyrics that has fueled my passion. Only now in these last few months have I gone back and listened to every single word of the songs playing in my head and in my iPod. Life can do that to you — make you revisit old places and gain new perspective. It may not help, but it shows you that you are not the same person you were. I was always told that you cannot watch a movie like "Diner" or a musical like "Company" until you are married. That's definitely true.

I cannot listen to any song on the radio or at home anymore without pushing past the notes and dissecting every last word. The bad songs, the good songs, the immortal songs. They mean so much more to me now, if only because the person that wrote them possibly was feeling the way I feel now.

When I got married, a gift to those in attendance were CDs with songs that meant something to my bride and myself. I remember that the most joyous song about love that I have ever encountered was James Taylor's "Your Smiling Face." So simple, so innocent, so pure. It is the absolute perfect song for new love. It brings no baggage, sets no expectations. It lives in the present. "No one can tell me that I'm doing wrong ... today." This man doesn't care about the past. This love is now. Only once does he speak of the future, and it is only in the most optimistic terms. "Tell me how much longer. It will grow stronger every day." Oh, James. If only that were true.

In my mind, that was always the greatest love song because it was the most "blind" love song. No troubles. Only joy. And maybe that's what I always wanted.

Another song on that CD dealt slightly more with maintaining love through bad times. "Steady As We Go" seems to be a perfect song for a wedding couple, but only if they both really listen. Most of the song deals with everything that the singer will do for his mate. But he still has this reminder that bad times will come. The only problem is that if the bad times haven't come yet, it's hard to believe they ever will, despite all evidence to the contrary. One thing to sing about it. Another to live it.

I have 43,000 songs on my iTunes, more than I will ever listen to completely. Sometimes I will have them shuffled up, and I will listen to something that I have never heard before, usually a song given from a friend years before, but now I listen intently, searching for any nugget of knowledge. If anyone ever got it right in terms of being in love and losing love, it was those songwriters from the 1930s and 40s and 50s. Listening to Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday or Frank Sinatra belt out songs of loneliness and despair, you had to wonder if Cole Poter, Jerome Kern or Irving Berlin had lived through these times or if they were just that good.

Ella probably recorded that song and went out to lunch at The Four Seasons afterwards, but man, at least there was someone you could bond with. Randy Newman did the same thing years later, summing up how everyone feels when they lose love. To the outside world, things may not look as drab and dreary. Words only go so far, even if their intentions are good. No one can make you feel better, at least not in the short term.

And although no one wants to admit it, this kind of hurt can really do a number on you. I never listened to "Losing My Mind" by Stephen Sondheim as intently as I have in the past few months, and although it does tend to lean toward the melodramatic, inside we are all a little melodramatic, and at least for a small while, we all feel this way .... at least those of us who have been left.

Toward the end of the song, the singer asks, "You said you loved me, or were you just being kind?" That's what many of us feel. If love goes away, was it ever there in the first place? In my case, it was. At least I think so. I did things that diminished it until it was gone, but like Dave Matthews sang earlier, "Troubles they may come and go." If the troubles are self-inflicted, can anyone blame the person who left?

Still, when you are alone, it's easy to play over scenarios in your mind. One song that has emerged in these days was one that have loved for years, "Break Your Heart" by the Barenaked Ladies. I knew every word, but it dealt with people that weren't in my life, so I never gave it a second thought, singing loud and proud in my car, unaware that this song would mean so much more to me later in life. It is sung from the perspective of the person who leaves. It is a person who cares for, but no longer loves, the person he is leaving. He explains that it is brave to leave and weak to stay. He even throws in that cutting remark toward the end. "It's not cause I'll be missing you that makes me fall apart. It's just that I didn't mean to break your heart." Now I know what he means.

So now every song is a puzzle to me, something to analyzed, taken apart and pieced back together. That's not a great place to be, especially when most pop songs deal with love found and love lost. The music lover in me may be better off listening to something instrumental.

But what about hope? What about the future? I tried that. It doesn't work until you get there yourself. You need to make your way through the valley, and only then will music like this actually have meaning.

Tennyson may be a quack today, but I'm sure I'll change my mind somewhere down the line. I'll let you know when that happens.