ThomStratton.com

I was saddened to hear of Alan Rickman’s death this morning. He was an amazing actor, and one who impacted me more than most. Yes, he first got noticed playing bad guys, including a delightfully nasty Sheriff of Nottingham in “Robin Hood Prince of Thieves” who threatened to take my sympathies away from Kevin Costner’s Robin (just don’t tell my wife!). Yes, he was in “Galaxy Quest”. Yes, he was Severus Snape.

But the part that I’ll always remember him most for is Colonel Brandon in the Emma Thompson/Hugh Grant version of “Sense and Sensibility”. Rickman’s Brandon is a cathartic archetype of every good man who has ever loved women who only seem to be interested in bad boys while completely missing the wonderful man right under their nose. We doubt his sanity, but we never doubt his abject adoration of Marianne Dashwood. With perhaps the exception of Thompson’s Elinor, I empathized and sympathized with no other character as much as I did Col. Brandon.

His helpless desperation when Marianne was deathly ill rent my heart, and the look that comes into his eye when at last finds something he can do is perfection. His inherent and constant, quiet goodness is an inspiration. And when Marianne finally undergoes a transformation into a better person and come to see Brandon for who and what he is, it’s him I am happy for, not her. Colonel Brandon not only gets the woman he loved so hopelessly, but gets the woman he deserves in the woman he loves. (And kudos to Kate Winslet for playing her new-found affection so sincerely when the book leaves some doubt on the matter.)

I’m not sure the character could have been rendered so wonderfully by anyone but Rickman. The man was a master of acting with his entire body. He could speak chapters with a single sentence. He could write books with his facial expressions. He could say one thing convincingly while simultaneously and just as convincingly betraying himself with his eyes. He could draw a single phrase out into eternity, making us savor each syllable like a sonorous chocolate rose. And yet somehow he never over-acted a part. All that glorious acting never looked like acting.

I’m not so sure J. K. Rowling didn’t write Snape as Rickman. Regardless, she clearly knew who had to play him in the movie, and she has never been more right about anything. Rickman moved into the part and made it his own, bestowing the role with a passion and dignity and gravity that Rowling herself was unable to completely convey. It’s no wonder the movies nearly became the story of Snape as much as the story of Harry. And kudos to Rickman for catching that vision and sticking around long enough for his character to really get to shine most in the later movies.

It’s our loss that Rickman will not be working his magic on any more characters. There’s no one else like Rickman. If my life ever becomes interesting enough to be made into a movie, it was Rickman I’d have wanted to play me. The acting world has lost a true craftsman.

Mr. Rickman, bravo…and thank you.

(I hope all the Bowie fans out there will forgive my lack of reaction there, but David Bowie was never really on my radar outside of “Labyrinth”. His death is also a loss. I likely don’t realize how much he impacted the music I do listen to.)

I was watching some more 80’s music videos when all of a sudden I spotted a familiar face. Let’s see if you recognize her:

I even went out to check Wikipedia to be sure. That’s Virgina Madsen, who I had a massive crush on after I saw her in “Electric Dreams“. If there was ever a movie to give a nerdy young man hope, that was it: a geeky architect fights his amorous computer to woo a gorgeous cellist! I mean really! Miles Harding was the Man!  Evidently she did the Kenny Loggins video before “Electric Dreams”, but it was all around the same time period. Heck, I even named my first car Madeline after her character. I think I’ve shared this before, but I’ll share it again:

I ran across these online. They’re fun, surprisingly spoiler-free, and I’ve got nothing for today anyway.

This is clearly from a different time period, but here’s evidence Harrison is still a good sport and a gracious star.

My encounter with ABBA last week (curse you, YouTube suggested videos!) got me down a music rabbit hole as more and more videos linked up from my past. So now I’ll punish y’all with it, too. (Or you can just tune back in tomorrow – I highly recommend this, Bill!)

Disclaimer: I don’t claim to like all these songs, but still had to relive them one more time. Not everything has aged well.

https://youtu.be/mdlyEC2wcQQ

I don’t think I ever saw the video for this next one. I had no idea there was even any controversy over this.

This last one could probably be tagged as my teenage crush anthem. Ah, memories! I wouldn’t go back and relive those years for any money, but the music will always hold a fond spot in my heart.

I was still pretty young when my older siblings (I can’t remember which now) bought an ABBA album. I grew up listening to it, and then just as quickly as they arrived on the scene they disappeared. By the time I was old enough to decide my own music tastes and buy albums they weren’t cool any more. (Though two of the group went on to create the musical “Chess” which causes a big stir in the 1980’s.)

One thing I remember about their music is that it often contained a story. Sometimes it was nothing more than “slice of life” vignettes like “Dancing Queen”, but sometimes there was something more deep behind it. How, for example, did a Swedish pop group come to write a song seemingly based on a Mexican Revolution, a la Fernando? I still can’t listen to that song without wishing I could get the entire story. Who are these people? What happened to their revolution? And what are their circumstances now? Inquiring minds want to know!

But we may never know, and so we’re left with a song that remains evergreen in my mind:

I’ve mentioned before that my wife and I are Cub Scout den leaders for the Bears, or the nine-year-old boys. They’re an interesting age, so enthusiastic about everything–perhaps too much so sometimes. They can get us off topic almost before we realize we’ve gone.

This week we began a course on knives and carving. This week was knife safety. We spent far longer than I would have expected just going through the basic rules of knife safety just because their imaginations are so active–and devoted to trying to find exceptions to every rule.

For example, one of the rules we covered was to never throw your knife. That seemed like a fairly obvious rule. But no, I could see the wheels turning. Soon the questions came: “What about if it’s a throwing knife?” “What if you’re being attacked by a bear?” “What if your friend is being attacked by a bear and you need to throw the knife to him?”

I never learn. I actually try to answer all these questions, continually forgetting that such answers will only breed more questions. “Your little pocket knives would only make the bear mad at you. Don’t throw them at bears.” “But what if we have a hundred knives? And throw them really quickly?” “You can’t possibly throw them quickly enough to kill the bear before it rips you to shreds.” “But what if…?!”

If I let them they could keep us going further and further down the rabbit hole. Eventually I wise up and yank the topic back: “We’re here to learn about knife safety, not bear safety! Next time you go to Yellowstone, ask a ranger about that. Now, the next rule is…” And they come back, albeit reluctantly sometimes.

They’re a fun group. And I suspect there’s a little nine-year-old still lurking inside of me, because I suspect one of the reasons I keep letting them pull me off topic is because I can’t resist mulling over their hypotheticals myself. Could you take down a bear with a pocket knife? Not throwing it, clearly, but could you evade their claws long enough to stick them someplace vital and…

I think the main difference between them and me is a measure of adult experience that eventually kicks in and reminds me we’re getting farther and farther afield and we’ve still got three other topics to cover. But part of me can’t help but wonder what would happen if I just let their minds continue off course.

Perhaps that’s the real reason they insist on two leaders being present at all times. Hopefully one of them can maintain their focus long enough to keep the entire group headed in the right direction. Otherwise we might still be exploring ways to take down a bear with pocketknives and not be ready to try carving figures next week.

And I think this is the main reason why I decided being a school teacher wasn’t for me. There’d be no one around to pull us all back out of the rabbit hole.

Up in Malheur County, Oregon right now there’s an armed protest being held by disgruntled ranchers, some of whom are members of the same church as myself, and are using scriptural references to justify their actions. This has drawn enough attention that the Church has felt it necessary to disassociate itself from these ranchers and condemn their actions, issuing a statement to that effect earlier this week.

That same day I was listening to an address given by Dallin H. Oaks, one of my church’s apostles, that seemed abnormally relevant. In discussing the power of ideas, especially the ideas presented by Jesus Christ, he had this to say, drawing from the works of C.S. Lewis:

It is surprisingly easy to take what should be our first devotion and subordinate it to other priorities. Fifty years ago, the Christian philosopher C. S. Lewis illustrated that tendency with an example that is distressingly applicable in our own day. In his book The Screwtape Letters, a senior devil explains how to corrupt Christians and frustrate the work of Jesus Christ. One letter explains how any “extreme devotion” can lead Christians away from the Lord and the practice of Christianity. Lewis gives two examples, extreme patriotism or extreme pacifism, and explains how either “extreme devotion” can corrupt its adherent.

“Let him begin by treating the Patriotism or the Pacifism as a part of his religion. Then let him, under the influence of partisan spirit, come to regard it as the most important part. Then quietly and gradually nurse him on to the stage at which the religion becomes merely part of the ‘cause,’ in which Christianity is valued chiefly because of the excellent arguments it can produce in favour of the British war effort or of pacifism. … Once you have made the World an end, and faith a means, you have almost won your man, and it makes very little difference what kind of worldly end he is pursuing” (C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, rev. ed., New York: MacMillan, 1982, p. 35).

We can readily see that tendency in our own time, with many causes that are good in themselves but become spiritually corrupting when they assume priorities ahead of him who commanded, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” Jesus Christ and his work come first. Anything that would use him or his kingdom or his church as a means to an end serves the cause of the adversary.

The Church has long advocated that its members be informed on current events and trends and actively engaged in the political process, though it has not advocated for any particular party or platform, only reserving the right to speak on moral issues. There is scriptural support aplenty for both liberal and conservative causes, as witnessed by the fact that Orrin Hatch and Harry Reid are both members of the church.

However, a mistake too many make, including these ranchers, is precisely what Lewis outlines. Their focus has shifted away from striving to follow Christ and toward a semi-militant crusade against government overreach, using and abusing gospel teachings to justify themselves and their beliefs. I believe something similar is happening with militant Islam. Rather than letting their religion drive their world view, they’re letting their world view drive their religion–religion becomes a vehicle for reaching their world-view-selected destination.

The Bundy family doesn’t speak for the Church or for God. Their decision to invoke scripture in support of their aims, thus dragging the Church into the matter by association, is unfortunate. But no one should mistake what is going on in southeastern Oregon for Christianity or the will of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It can’t be stated any more plainly than the Church’s own Articles of Faith:

12 We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.

What’s going on in Oregon is sad, but the approach being taken is not at all supported by the Church and its doctrine. As the Church’s statement indicates, there are legal avenues for achieving their goals, and those should be used. I hope this entire situation can be resolved calmly, peacefully, and quickly.

I won’t go so far as to say I’m surprised to see kindness in the world, but I’m certainly encouraged when I see it, especially in places where it’s not expected.

I’ve written before about my children’s involvement in Pokémon and perhaps even about my oldest son’s goal to go to the World Championships this coming summer. He’s decided he wants to go–he has no delusions about winning, but he would love to just experience the whole thing for himself.

But to do that requires the accumulation of a certain number of points, earned through success in varying levels of tournaments. The lowest level is a League Challenge, which is a formal competition at the local club. The number of points earned isn’t high, and you can only count your best six finishes toward your final total. A first place win in a league challenge is worth 15 points, and you can only count six, for a best total of 90 points. My son’s been doing okay there, having accumulated 82 points thus far (there may be a few more chances to improve on some of those lower point wins).

The next level up is City Championships. You can count a total of four, but each of those is worth up to 50 points. If he were to win four tournaments he’d have well over the 250 points required to qualify for Worlds in his age group. And there have been 8-10 championships around the region. Piece of cake, he thought.

Not so much.

What we noticed pretty quickly was that while a few of the local faces may change from venue to venue, there are three or four other committed players who show up to every tournament. And at least two of those can beat my son a majority of the time. One has placed fourth nationally before. For the first half of the City tournament “season” the best Walter could manage was third or fourth. And unfortunately the number of places that get points depends on how many show up for the tournament. Many of the tournaments lacked the numbers for anyone other than first and second to get points. And no matter what, Walter could never seem to break into the top two.

He got frustrated. He kept changing he deck, trying to find a better combination. He nearly gave up on his goal for this year (those consistent top-two finishers will move up to the next age group next year). But he realized that whether he actually made it or not, he should keep going to the tournaments so he could get more practice playing against that level of competition. And he found surprising support from the very people who were beating him week after week. After one particularly frustrating tournament the usual first-place winner took him aside and told him about his own experiences and how he’d nearly given up himself. He encouraged my son to keep going.

The fact is none of these regular players are jerks. They’re good kids, and good sports. But we had no idea just how good they could be yet.

By the time we got down to the last two tournaments The Other Three all had their invitations to the World Championships. Walter still only had two third-place wins under his belt and still over a hundred more points to pick up (one of his wins somehow got eaten by the computer and we’re still trying to resolve it).  Yes, there are still upcoming state and regional championships, but there’s no guarantee those would go any better for him. He’s good, but perhaps not good enough to rank high enough to get the rest of the points he’d need.

Then on his next-to-last tournament he got a couple good breaks and took first place. Suddenly he was back in the running. There was still a chance.

We went to the last City Championship we could attend last Saturday. He got off to a good start, winning his first match in the qualification rounds. But then he went up against one of The Other Three in the second round. He won his third match to go 2-1, but his fourth match was against another of The Other Three who was 3-0 and the only undefeated player at that point. Then came an unexpected kindness. That player conceded to Walter so they could both be 3-1 and guaranteed slots in the finals. And once he was in the finals he was guaranteed at least some points (they had enough players this time). That was a big relief.

For the first round of the finals, however, he was paired against the third of The Other Three, whom he has never beaten. Oh well, them’s the breaks, I figured. At least he got more points. But then that player conceded to Walter, too. He already had his invitation, and one more opportunity to get more points the next day (we avoid matches on Sunday), so he decided to let Walter advance and get even more points. Walter ultimately lost in the final round (close games, though!) and took second over-all. But now, even if they don’t resolve the mystery of the missing points, he stands a good chance of picking up the last 20-30 points at State and Regional Championships.

Neither of the boys that helped him were being encouraged to be kind by their parents–at least not that I could see. They were certainly under no obligation to be nice. But evidently they feel a certain camaraderie with the other regular competitors and want to see each other get their chances, too. The same player that conceded to Walter in the finals evidently also conceded to one of The Other Three in their qualifying match to make sure he got into the finals, too.

I afterwards went up to the boy that conceded to Walter in the finals, thanked him for his generosity, and told him he was a good guy. That’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in eight tournaments. I take it teens don’t get many compliments from adults.

I hope my son is paying attention, and I’m fairly sure he is. Next year he will be one of the two remaining of the Top Four in his age group, and he’ll likely have opportunities to pay it forward. I’m looking forward to seeing him rise to the occasion after the good examples that have been set for him.

The past year is a blur. And yet so much happened. My wife’s parents came for a visit. Our dog Sofie died, and now Sam leaving his mischievous paw prints on our hearts. My daughter entered high school. I wrote another novel. I made a few baby steps toward submitting my work. One of my sons became a deacon. We continued to have issues with the HVAC company over our new furnace and air conditioner. We re-landscaped the area between our back deck and the privacy wall and helped our neighbor install his in-ground trampoline.

My boys and I met John Flanagan, author of the “Ranger’s Apprentice” and “Brotherband” series. We’ve played a lot of Pokémon. The whole family hiked the Elephant Head Trail on Antelope Island. I took my first business trip in years. My wife stopped volunteering at the animal sanctuary. I went to both Scout Camp and Girls Camp. We stained the fence. We went to a lot of Pokémon tournaments. My wife and I celebrated our 16th anniversary.

This hasn’t been a very remarkable year as far as events. Mostly we’ve just been keepin’ on keepin’ on. It was a year filled with a lot of little things, and when I look back I have to wonder what we did with all of our time. And yet it was a year of individual growth for all of us. I believe I’m a better person in general than I was at the beginning of the year. I’ve been through some struggles and learning experiences and emerged a little stronger, perhaps.

It’s been a good year, all in all. Probably one of those years that was much more important than we realized at the time, but will look back and see it was the beginning of a lot of things. Or maybe I’m just trying to pump some drama into an otherwise kinda flat year. I dunno. I’m nearly to a new year and I find myself rather ambivalent about the old one.

And that’s okay. Sometimes life is just living. I could wish for more excitement, but I’ve had exciting years, and they’re usually the wrong kind of excitement. Boring can be very good.

So long, 2015. You’ve been a decent year. Now it’s time to move on.