Yearly Archives: 2007

Screen time

"Inland Empire"

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There’s a public-access channel in Columbia that used to run locally produced movies late at night. For the most part, these movies made no sense whatsoever. And so, while I might watch a few minutes of them, I never watched one in its entirety.

Now imagine you have four or five channels. And they’re all showing public-access movies. And you’re flipping through all of your channels, hoping against hope that something that makes sense will come on your TV screen. Instead, you’re bombarded, in 20-second bursts, with:

  • a trio of well-dressed rabbits in a Beckett-esque play.
  • a crying, naked girl sitting on the edge of a bed, clutching a blanket and watching a static-filled TV screen.
  • a disturbing exchange taking place between two blurry-headed figures in a hotel room.
  • a couple of old men screaming at each other in a foreign language.
  • a crazed-looking woman running down the street.

    Yesterday, Rockford brought home a copy of “Inland Empire” from the video store. And that frightful public-access scenario became my reality. I watched the first 15 minutes before I decided I’d had enough. It made me want to punch David Lynch in the face.

    David Lynch has officially been inducted into Club Boycott.

    Rockford was kind enough to turn the movie off, but he says he’s going to watch it tonight after I go to bed. You can expect to read his take on it soon.

    • Family matters

    I like the way she talks

    scene: Toddler, putting small wooden animals into an ark. And then dumping them out. Over and over and over again.

    “Bye giraffes. Bye alligator. Bye zuh-webra.* Bye-bye, annuner** zuh-webra. Bye el-phant. Hm… Annuner camel! Uh-oh!”

    *zebra
    **another

    Family matters

    A letter to my girl

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    Dear Poppy,

    Here’s what I remember about the day you were born:

    We’d been at the hospital for about 24 hours, I think. Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa and Papa were there on Sunday evening (they watched a Cubs game and played euchre), and Daddy spent the night there with me.

    I didn’t want to take any kind of pain medication, but the nurse gave me something late Sunday night so I could sleep. And on Monday, the anesthesiologist came in to give me the epidural. About 10 minutes later, he was my favorite person in the whole world.

    Your daddy was there with me the whole time, until Papa talked him into going downstairs for some coffee. A few minutes later, the doctor came in and said we needed to get you out, that you weren’t responding well to the medicine they’d given me to help you along. I said OK, whatever would be best for you. I signed the papers, your daddy came back in, and we were off.

    I remember my mouth was so dry. I remember your daddy peeking over to see them pull you out. I remember him telling me, “I see her.” I remember how time stood still after that until, finally, I heard you cry for the first time and I was at peace.

    You make me laugh every day. And so many things you do and things you say, honey, I want to freeze in my mind forever.

    • The way you say, “There she is!” and “Good morning, Mommy!” when I come into your room in the mornings.
    • When you tell me, “I love you, too, honey.”
    • Every last one of your smiles.
    • The way you say “milp-k” rather than “milk.”
    • The expression on your face when you charge at me full-throttle for a hug.
    • The way you try to comfort me whenever you’re upset. “Mommy’s OK,” you say. “Mommy’s just fine.”
    • Your glee at seeing your stuffed “buddies” – Ernie, Mickey Mouse, Grover – in the mornings and after your naps.
    • Your very earnest dancing.
    • Your hugs and kisses.
    • Your enthusiasm.
    • The way we cuddled on the couch tonight before you went to bed. And you said, “Sing ‘Peace Like a River,’ Mommy.” And, “Sing ‘Bear,” Mommy.” And you played with my hair while I sang to you.

    I can hardly remember what my life was before you came along. I’m certain that I never imagined having so much joy in my life. I thank God for you every day.

    Happy birthday, my peach, my plum, my little bird. I love you more than I can say.

    Love,
    Mommy