"Ryan. I am a Jewish boy. I don't know if I can be one of the Three Wise Men. Lightning might strike."
"Quiet, Seth. Or we'll miss the directions."
"Look, Ryan. Just because you have a crush on Rebecca does not mean I should be doing this."
"I don't have a crush on Rebecca. She's just a friend. And I'm helping her out. So -- PLEASE -- be QUIET."
Yep. There we were. Seth and I. At the First Berkeley Intercultural Holiday Festival. Where the Jewish kids enacted the Living Nativity Scene; the black kids lit the menorah, spun the dreidel, and cooked latkes; the Christian kids donned Kwanzaa attire; and the atheist kids read aloud from "The Collective Works Of Ted Cruz."
And -- yes -- a girl named Rebecca did have something to do with us being there. But, not because I had a crush on her. Okay. Maybe I had a little crush on her, but that really had nothing to do with it. Besides, she was dating one of the Oakland Raiders. And you just don't mess with that stuff, if you value your health.
This is the thing. We're both architecture majors -- Rebecca and I. And she's great -- really smart, creative, artsy, kind, compassionate, a free-thinker. And beautiful. Yes -- beautiful. And she came up with this idea of the Intercultural Holiday Festival. It's not really associated with the university, per se. But, a lot of the students wanted to participate. And Rebecca asked me if I would design the structure for the Nativity Scene. She wanted it to be a bit avant-garde. So, I designed a stable set into a hillside. And I fashioned it all out of biodegradable/organic/recyclable materials from the university's food service. There really wasn't straw available, of course. But you would be amazed at what you can do with cardboard boxes and a heavy-duty shredder.
Rebecca also asked if Sandy and Kirsten's new baby could play the infant Jesus. "Well, I guess so. Although, she is a girl," I told her.
"Like it matters, Atwood," Rebecca replied. "She's just a few months old. Nobody's gonna notice. And it's not like there's a whole lot of babies to choose from around here."
So, that's how Kirsten ended up showing my friend Sam how to hold a new baby. Sam was playing Joseph, and Rebecca had decided that it was about time to have a Nativity Scene in which Joseph holds the baby.
I know it all sounds a bit ridiculous, a bit disrespectful. As accepting as he is about all things Berkeley, even Sandy had his doubts. But, you know, it all came off beautifully. In spite of the initial chaos, the atmosphere ended up being quite peaceful. And everybody learned something -- about another culture, another faith, another way of looking at the world. And in viewing our differences, we also saw our similarities. We saw the things that bring us together. We realized that everybody has a heart-felt need to be heard, to be cared for, to be loved. We learned that respecting another's beliefs doesn't have to diminish our own -- whether in a family or in a country. Maybe if we respect another's sincere beliefs, that other will respect ours as well. And -- maybe -- that is a way to peace.
As I ate my latke and gazed upon Mary, who was bemusedly watching Joseph try to keep the swaddling clothes from slipping off of a fussy "Baby Jesus" -- sheltered as they were in a "cave" made of dozens upon dozens of industrial-sized egg containers, welded together by compost -- a real feeling of contentment filled me. Until -- UNTIL -- Seth's camel (courtesy of the San Francisco Zoo) decided it was time to gift us with some organic material of its own making.
So -- whistling "Jingle Bells" to myself -- I hustled off to get the shovel.
Happy Holidays!
Showing posts with label Ryan Atwood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ryan Atwood. Show all posts
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Thursday, September 26, 2013
An "O.C." Reunion That Might Be Acceptable All-Around
I'm just taking a wild guess about this. But, here goes.
Recently, the TV show "The O.C." (which ran from 2003-2007) celebrated its 10-year anniversary. Of course, I only heard about the thing a little over a year ago, so I don't have that long of a history with it. Some people, though, have loved and adored it from its premiere episode all those years ago right up on to the present day. And many, if not most, of these long-time fans would love to see a reunion. But, there are apparently some problems with this reunion concept, not the least of which is the reluctance of a couple of the main stars of the series to do such a thing. I don't really blame them for this. Life goes on; other appealing and challenging projects present themselves. A reunion may seem a bit like going backwards to something that -- even though it was a wonderful cultural phenomenon -- might be best left to iTunes and DVDs.
On the other hand, I feel a bit bad for these scores of faithful fans. So, I have been wondering about an "O.C." reunion format that might be amenable to those who may be a bit hesitant to participate.
I get the impression that when most people think about a reunion, they think about a continuation of the story. They imagine the original actors reprising their roles, bringing the tale of the Ryan Atwood and Company up-to-date. To my mind, there are difficulties with this concept. The series ended on a very satisfying note, bringing the hope of happiness for each of the beloved characters. Each fan has his/her own idea about the details of what the future will hold for Ryan, Seth, Summer, and everybody else. Of course, we are given some clues, such as a glimpse of Seth and Summer's nuptials. A lot, though, is left to the imagination. And this, to me, is a good thing. If the story were to be continued -- a la Josh Schwartz -- there is a lot of risk. Because of the necessity for tension in stories -- not everything will be happy -- many fans may find themselves being let down. And even if everything ends happily once more, it may not end happily in the manner each die-hard fan has been imagining for the last several years. The show left all of us with many warm, fuzzy feelings and good memories. Introducing controversy into that equation is at least a little bit dangerous.
There is an alternative, though, to this. Instead of continuing the story and requiring Ben McKenzie to once again don his white wife beater, maybe there could be a rather informal gathering of the cast members to reminisce. Each actor could choose favorite scenes to be shown, describing his or her memories and feelings. Anecdotes could be told. There could be a general atmosphere of levity. This would require a minimal financial investment and would not require a great deal (if any) preparation by the actors. Mischa Barton could even participate, even though her character died tragically at the end of Season 3. And I know many people would enjoy that -- seeing "Ryan and Marissa" together again on TV, even though they'd be appearing as their real selves. Perhaps audience members could submit questions -- either in advance or in real time -- via Twitter or some other internet mode. It could be a lot of fun for the fans. It could even be fun for the cast members and Josh Schwartz. No pressure on anybody. Just a celebration of what is -- at least to many people -- one of the biggest television joys of our time.
Recently, the TV show "The O.C." (which ran from 2003-2007) celebrated its 10-year anniversary. Of course, I only heard about the thing a little over a year ago, so I don't have that long of a history with it. Some people, though, have loved and adored it from its premiere episode all those years ago right up on to the present day. And many, if not most, of these long-time fans would love to see a reunion. But, there are apparently some problems with this reunion concept, not the least of which is the reluctance of a couple of the main stars of the series to do such a thing. I don't really blame them for this. Life goes on; other appealing and challenging projects present themselves. A reunion may seem a bit like going backwards to something that -- even though it was a wonderful cultural phenomenon -- might be best left to iTunes and DVDs.
On the other hand, I feel a bit bad for these scores of faithful fans. So, I have been wondering about an "O.C." reunion format that might be amenable to those who may be a bit hesitant to participate.
I get the impression that when most people think about a reunion, they think about a continuation of the story. They imagine the original actors reprising their roles, bringing the tale of the Ryan Atwood and Company up-to-date. To my mind, there are difficulties with this concept. The series ended on a very satisfying note, bringing the hope of happiness for each of the beloved characters. Each fan has his/her own idea about the details of what the future will hold for Ryan, Seth, Summer, and everybody else. Of course, we are given some clues, such as a glimpse of Seth and Summer's nuptials. A lot, though, is left to the imagination. And this, to me, is a good thing. If the story were to be continued -- a la Josh Schwartz -- there is a lot of risk. Because of the necessity for tension in stories -- not everything will be happy -- many fans may find themselves being let down. And even if everything ends happily once more, it may not end happily in the manner each die-hard fan has been imagining for the last several years. The show left all of us with many warm, fuzzy feelings and good memories. Introducing controversy into that equation is at least a little bit dangerous.
There is an alternative, though, to this. Instead of continuing the story and requiring Ben McKenzie to once again don his white wife beater, maybe there could be a rather informal gathering of the cast members to reminisce. Each actor could choose favorite scenes to be shown, describing his or her memories and feelings. Anecdotes could be told. There could be a general atmosphere of levity. This would require a minimal financial investment and would not require a great deal (if any) preparation by the actors. Mischa Barton could even participate, even though her character died tragically at the end of Season 3. And I know many people would enjoy that -- seeing "Ryan and Marissa" together again on TV, even though they'd be appearing as their real selves. Perhaps audience members could submit questions -- either in advance or in real time -- via Twitter or some other internet mode. It could be a lot of fun for the fans. It could even be fun for the cast members and Josh Schwartz. No pressure on anybody. Just a celebration of what is -- at least to many people -- one of the biggest television joys of our time.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
The O.C. -- A Case Study In Watching TV With Young People
This post is related to my last post, which was a rather long, boring, and preachy post. Maybe this one will be more fun, while also serving as an example of what I was talking about in my last rather long, boring, and preachy post. Maybe it will serve as a bit of a clarification, if you will.
Some of you reading this may have never heard of the TV show entitled "The O.C." It was enormously popular from 2003-2007. In spite of its enormous popularity, the first time I heard about it was last spring when I was engrossed in watching another TV show -- "SouthLAnd" -- which I also didn't hear about until late in the game, as in the middle of Season 4. "SouthLAnd" has an amazingly talented ensemble cast. I had seen most of the principal actors from "SouthLAnd" in other TV shows and movies, with the exception of one, whose name is Ben McKenzie. So, being that I had never heard of him, I decided to look up his IMdB to see if he had done any other work. Lo and behold, he had done a lot of other work, including a TV show called "The O.C." I googled "The O.C." and discovered that it had been quite a hit. It was billed as a teen soap opera, which normally I don't watch, but because Mr. McKenzie had impressed me so much with his work on "SouthLAnd," I decided to give it a try. So, I ordered the DVD's and proceeded to watch it, along with my two daughters, who are in their early 20's. They, too, had never before heard of or seen "The O.C." They had, though, been wrangled (by me) into watching "SouthLAnd."
"The O.C." is the tale of a young man from the "wrong side of the tracks" named Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie), who -- through the actions of Providence and some extremely creative storytellers -- ends up being adopted into a wealthy family in Orange County, California. Admittedly, "The O.C." has many soap-opera elements to it. What drew me into the story, though, is its touching portrayal of such things as family life, friendship, forgiveness, and hope. The writing is also clever and sprinkled with ample bits of humor. And Mr. McKenzie does an absolutely superb job of making his character relatable. Ryan -- from the very first scene of the very first episode -- is someone for whom you deeply care, someone for whom you want only the best. He is also damn hot. He wears white wife beaters, which show off the fact that Mr. McKenzie probably works out constantly. He sports uber-cool leather accessories, and his expressive face and off-putting manner caused my younger daughter to wonder "if Ben got away with lots of things while he was growing up." So, of course, since Ryan Atwood is the way Ryan Atwood is, there are going to be sexual situations.
As a parent, I had a couple of alternatives. I could decide that we were not going to watch this show in my house, with all its "objectionable" content. Or, I could decide to take advantage of all the teachable moments it presented. If I chose the first alternative, we would have missed out on what turned out to be an absolutely delightful story. I would have also annoyed my daughters. And I wanted to watch the show myself, so there's that. Therefore, I chose the second option. I didn't turn out lecture after lecture on sexual morality for my kids, based on "The O.C." But, I did use situations presented in the show and the questions my kids had as an opportunities for the tossing about of ideas.
Here is an example:
Bridget and I were at a Mexican restaurant one night, having a little mom-daughter dinner, because the rest of the family was otherwise engaged. She said to me, "What would you say if I brought Ryan Atwood home?"
I laughed and replied, "I would high-five you and shout, 'Score!!!'" I then said, "I have never, in all my life, known a guy like Ryan Atwood. And I have known a fair number of guys. But, if you did happen to find him, there are a lot of good things about Ryan. He's a good person. He's good to people. He's kind. He works hard. And, yeah, who doesn't want a hot boyfriend?" But, I also told her, "I wouldn't go locking yourself in any pool house with him, though. The chances of ending up pregnant would be pretty high. And even if you didn't end up getting pregnant, if you slept with him and then broke up, it would break your heart even more than it would if you hadn't slept with him. That's been my experience in life, anyway." To throw some good humor into the whole thing, I ended with, "If you did hang out in the pool house with him, I'd make you keep all the blinds open. And I'd walk back and forth every five minutes and wave at you guys."
What were my goals in this conversation? I wanted Bridget to know that I perfectly understand the appeal of Ryan Atwood. He's great. But, I wanted to sort the fantasy from the reality. I also wanted her to know that I am -- always -- on her side. I wanted to speak to her in a way that let her know that she can come to me with anything, any time. And I wanted her to know that I have a sense of humor and a sense of fun about things youthfully romantic. After all, it's just a plain old good time talking with and laughing with a daughter about "The O.C."
Some of you reading this may have never heard of the TV show entitled "The O.C." It was enormously popular from 2003-2007. In spite of its enormous popularity, the first time I heard about it was last spring when I was engrossed in watching another TV show -- "SouthLAnd" -- which I also didn't hear about until late in the game, as in the middle of Season 4. "SouthLAnd" has an amazingly talented ensemble cast. I had seen most of the principal actors from "SouthLAnd" in other TV shows and movies, with the exception of one, whose name is Ben McKenzie. So, being that I had never heard of him, I decided to look up his IMdB to see if he had done any other work. Lo and behold, he had done a lot of other work, including a TV show called "The O.C." I googled "The O.C." and discovered that it had been quite a hit. It was billed as a teen soap opera, which normally I don't watch, but because Mr. McKenzie had impressed me so much with his work on "SouthLAnd," I decided to give it a try. So, I ordered the DVD's and proceeded to watch it, along with my two daughters, who are in their early 20's. They, too, had never before heard of or seen "The O.C." They had, though, been wrangled (by me) into watching "SouthLAnd."
"The O.C." is the tale of a young man from the "wrong side of the tracks" named Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie), who -- through the actions of Providence and some extremely creative storytellers -- ends up being adopted into a wealthy family in Orange County, California. Admittedly, "The O.C." has many soap-opera elements to it. What drew me into the story, though, is its touching portrayal of such things as family life, friendship, forgiveness, and hope. The writing is also clever and sprinkled with ample bits of humor. And Mr. McKenzie does an absolutely superb job of making his character relatable. Ryan -- from the very first scene of the very first episode -- is someone for whom you deeply care, someone for whom you want only the best. He is also damn hot. He wears white wife beaters, which show off the fact that Mr. McKenzie probably works out constantly. He sports uber-cool leather accessories, and his expressive face and off-putting manner caused my younger daughter to wonder "if Ben got away with lots of things while he was growing up." So, of course, since Ryan Atwood is the way Ryan Atwood is, there are going to be sexual situations.
As a parent, I had a couple of alternatives. I could decide that we were not going to watch this show in my house, with all its "objectionable" content. Or, I could decide to take advantage of all the teachable moments it presented. If I chose the first alternative, we would have missed out on what turned out to be an absolutely delightful story. I would have also annoyed my daughters. And I wanted to watch the show myself, so there's that. Therefore, I chose the second option. I didn't turn out lecture after lecture on sexual morality for my kids, based on "The O.C." But, I did use situations presented in the show and the questions my kids had as an opportunities for the tossing about of ideas.
Here is an example:
Bridget and I were at a Mexican restaurant one night, having a little mom-daughter dinner, because the rest of the family was otherwise engaged. She said to me, "What would you say if I brought Ryan Atwood home?"
I laughed and replied, "I would high-five you and shout, 'Score!!!'" I then said, "I have never, in all my life, known a guy like Ryan Atwood. And I have known a fair number of guys. But, if you did happen to find him, there are a lot of good things about Ryan. He's a good person. He's good to people. He's kind. He works hard. And, yeah, who doesn't want a hot boyfriend?" But, I also told her, "I wouldn't go locking yourself in any pool house with him, though. The chances of ending up pregnant would be pretty high. And even if you didn't end up getting pregnant, if you slept with him and then broke up, it would break your heart even more than it would if you hadn't slept with him. That's been my experience in life, anyway." To throw some good humor into the whole thing, I ended with, "If you did hang out in the pool house with him, I'd make you keep all the blinds open. And I'd walk back and forth every five minutes and wave at you guys."
What were my goals in this conversation? I wanted Bridget to know that I perfectly understand the appeal of Ryan Atwood. He's great. But, I wanted to sort the fantasy from the reality. I also wanted her to know that I am -- always -- on her side. I wanted to speak to her in a way that let her know that she can come to me with anything, any time. And I wanted her to know that I have a sense of humor and a sense of fun about things youthfully romantic. After all, it's just a plain old good time talking with and laughing with a daughter about "The O.C."
Sunday, July 28, 2013
"The O.C." -- The Chrismukkah Shopping Babysitting Job
*A Little Fan Fiction For A Sunday Evening*
It seemed fair enough. Sandy and Kirsten needed to go Chrismukkah shopping. Besides, they hadn't gone out together alone since Sophie was born several months ago. Not that they were complaining. They are totally over the moon with that baby. And living in Berkeley allows Kirsten to be the kind of mom she's always really wanted to be. A Birkenstock-clad, cotton-skirt-wearing, quinoa-eating, nursing machine. Don't get me wrong, though. It looks good on her. Beautiful, in fact. I have never seen her looking so lovely. And simply happy.
But, the Chrismukkah shopping did need to be done. And I was finished with my finals. "So," I thought to myself, "why not offer to babysit?"
So, there I was. Me, a beautiful little blonde baby girl, and a bottle of breast milk. I was trying -- very, very hard -- not to think about where the cream colored liquid in that bottle came from. And the baby girl? Was unhappy. Noisily and loudly unhappy. She was not being fooled by the silicone nipple on that plastic bottle. Not at all. Smart girl.
"Yes," I thought to myself. "You should have spent more weekends at the house. Then your baby sister would know you a little better. You could have practiced holding her, getting familiar with all her favorite positions. Maybe Kirsten would even have let you give her the occasional bottle of breast milk." But, of course, I had gotten wrapped up in my studies. And my new social life. I had neglected my family a bit, along with my little sister. And my sister was now letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't appreciate my neglect.
So, I put down the bottle and I took a deep breath and I cradled the baby in my arms the way I had seen (on the rare occasions I was home) Sandy do it, with her head nestled in the crook of my left elbow and my right arm supporting her body. I held her close to my chest and took deep, calm breaths. She was still crying, but seemed to be relaxing a bit. I walked over to the window, looking out at the twinkling holiday lights decorating the neighborhood on this cold night, and I rocked little Sophie back and forth. I looked at her little face, and into her blue eyes. And I thought about all the Chrismukkahs before this one. Special times that always did seem to bring miracles, in spite of my usually dubious attitude. "You should never doubt Moses and Jesus," Seth would remind me. Moses and Jesus -- the world's original superheroes. And as I looked into my little sister's eyes, I couldn't help but think of the little brother that I would soon be seeing. My little half-brother. Marissa's little half-brother. He would be visiting for the holiday, along with all the people I have come to call my family. A family I know will never leave me. Miracles added upon miracles.
Sophie was now quiet, but very alert, looking back into my eyes as I gazed into hers. "Are you hungry, little one?" I asked her. It's funny, isn't it, the way you talk to babies like they'll answer you? I guess they do, in their own way. Retrieving the bottle from the place where I had left it, I put it to Sophie's lips and she started to drink, never taking her eyes off my face. It was a feeling that I had never had before -- her warm little body, wrapped in soft flannel, hungrily drinking her mother's milk. And she polished off the whole thing in no time flat. A true Cohen.
I then proceeded to the next step. Burping her. I placed a cloth diaper that had been left on the dining room table for this purpose over my left shoulder and lifted Sophie up to that shoulder, the way I had seen Sandy do it. I could feel her soft hair against my neck and cheek as I gently patted her back. And then, it happened. She burped, all right. She burped with such great force that Kirsten's beautiful white easy chair -- which was about three feet behind me -- was fairly soaked with liquid.
For a moment, I was a bit panic-stricken. But, then I just had to laugh. I held the little girlie gently out in front of me, so I could see her face. I have to say she looked quite self-satisfied. "Happy with yourself, are you?" I chided gently.
Deciding to ignore the mess on the easy chair in favor of not losing any of this rare and special time with my sister, I carried her into her room, and sat down with her in the rocking chair that Kirsten kept in there. An antique wooden rocking chair, carved with beautiful, intricate designs, and covered with soft hand-made cushions. The moonlight was coming in through the window. A window silhouetted by delicate lace curtains. I rocked Sophie on my shoulder until I could tell by her deep, even breaths that she was asleep. And then I rocked her some more. I rocked her until Sandy and Kirsten came home.
And when they did come home, I didn't mention the mess on the easy chair. I simply didn't want to ruin the moment. And I figured they'd find it for themselves, easily enough, the next day. Besides, Seth was coming home the next day. He's always had a talent with upholstery cleaner.
It seemed fair enough. Sandy and Kirsten needed to go Chrismukkah shopping. Besides, they hadn't gone out together alone since Sophie was born several months ago. Not that they were complaining. They are totally over the moon with that baby. And living in Berkeley allows Kirsten to be the kind of mom she's always really wanted to be. A Birkenstock-clad, cotton-skirt-wearing, quinoa-eating, nursing machine. Don't get me wrong, though. It looks good on her. Beautiful, in fact. I have never seen her looking so lovely. And simply happy.
But, the Chrismukkah shopping did need to be done. And I was finished with my finals. "So," I thought to myself, "why not offer to babysit?"
So, there I was. Me, a beautiful little blonde baby girl, and a bottle of breast milk. I was trying -- very, very hard -- not to think about where the cream colored liquid in that bottle came from. And the baby girl? Was unhappy. Noisily and loudly unhappy. She was not being fooled by the silicone nipple on that plastic bottle. Not at all. Smart girl.
"Yes," I thought to myself. "You should have spent more weekends at the house. Then your baby sister would know you a little better. You could have practiced holding her, getting familiar with all her favorite positions. Maybe Kirsten would even have let you give her the occasional bottle of breast milk." But, of course, I had gotten wrapped up in my studies. And my new social life. I had neglected my family a bit, along with my little sister. And my sister was now letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't appreciate my neglect.
So, I put down the bottle and I took a deep breath and I cradled the baby in my arms the way I had seen (on the rare occasions I was home) Sandy do it, with her head nestled in the crook of my left elbow and my right arm supporting her body. I held her close to my chest and took deep, calm breaths. She was still crying, but seemed to be relaxing a bit. I walked over to the window, looking out at the twinkling holiday lights decorating the neighborhood on this cold night, and I rocked little Sophie back and forth. I looked at her little face, and into her blue eyes. And I thought about all the Chrismukkahs before this one. Special times that always did seem to bring miracles, in spite of my usually dubious attitude. "You should never doubt Moses and Jesus," Seth would remind me. Moses and Jesus -- the world's original superheroes. And as I looked into my little sister's eyes, I couldn't help but think of the little brother that I would soon be seeing. My little half-brother. Marissa's little half-brother. He would be visiting for the holiday, along with all the people I have come to call my family. A family I know will never leave me. Miracles added upon miracles.
Sophie was now quiet, but very alert, looking back into my eyes as I gazed into hers. "Are you hungry, little one?" I asked her. It's funny, isn't it, the way you talk to babies like they'll answer you? I guess they do, in their own way. Retrieving the bottle from the place where I had left it, I put it to Sophie's lips and she started to drink, never taking her eyes off my face. It was a feeling that I had never had before -- her warm little body, wrapped in soft flannel, hungrily drinking her mother's milk. And she polished off the whole thing in no time flat. A true Cohen.
I then proceeded to the next step. Burping her. I placed a cloth diaper that had been left on the dining room table for this purpose over my left shoulder and lifted Sophie up to that shoulder, the way I had seen Sandy do it. I could feel her soft hair against my neck and cheek as I gently patted her back. And then, it happened. She burped, all right. She burped with such great force that Kirsten's beautiful white easy chair -- which was about three feet behind me -- was fairly soaked with liquid.
For a moment, I was a bit panic-stricken. But, then I just had to laugh. I held the little girlie gently out in front of me, so I could see her face. I have to say she looked quite self-satisfied. "Happy with yourself, are you?" I chided gently.
Deciding to ignore the mess on the easy chair in favor of not losing any of this rare and special time with my sister, I carried her into her room, and sat down with her in the rocking chair that Kirsten kept in there. An antique wooden rocking chair, carved with beautiful, intricate designs, and covered with soft hand-made cushions. The moonlight was coming in through the window. A window silhouetted by delicate lace curtains. I rocked Sophie on my shoulder until I could tell by her deep, even breaths that she was asleep. And then I rocked her some more. I rocked her until Sandy and Kirsten came home.
And when they did come home, I didn't mention the mess on the easy chair. I simply didn't want to ruin the moment. And I figured they'd find it for themselves, easily enough, the next day. Besides, Seth was coming home the next day. He's always had a talent with upholstery cleaner.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Sex -- Second Installment
I wrote a post a while ago about sex. I thought I'd write another one today.
These are just my thoughts. If you roll differently, that's cool. I'm nobody's judge and jury. Believe me, I know what it feels like to be judged. And it doesn't feel too good.
I am Catholic. Growing up Catholic, I was taught the Catholic ideas about sex. Many people misunderstand the Catholic ideas about sex. I have heard Catholicism referred to as an "anti-sex cult." That makes me giggle.
Anyway, amongst all the theological sex discussion that I grew up with, there is one statement which still stands out to me to this day. It was spoken to my by my Italian immigrant peasant-farmer-turned-candle-factory-worker Nana. Before I tell you what she said, though, let me tell you a little bit about her.
My Nana was cool. And she was no prude. In the family, it was known that she and my Grandpa were, as you might put it, "into each other." And she loved the handsome blonde guy on "The Lawrence Welk Show" and she loved her soap opera hotties. I tell you, if "The O.C." had been on when I was a young girl, my Nana would have been right there watching it with us. I think she would have dug Sandy Cohen and Jimmy Cooper (and, yes, even Ryan Atwood). Although, as we watched it together, she probably would have injected some of her Nana-wisdom into the whole situation. For example, she would have told us that the whole idea of Ryan in that poolhouse just wasn't good sense. She would have made him leave all the blinds open 24/7. And he would never have gotten away with taking off in the Range Rover in a fit of temper. My Nana was like 5'11" and 180 -- and Ryan just would not have gotten away with crap like that. Ryan would also never have been able to pull the wool over her eyes in his attempt to sneak across the border to finish off that Volchok character. My Nana would have seen that coming a mile away. And it just wouldn't have happened. She would have sent him outside to dig post holes or paint the house until he cooled off. That was her way of dealing with youthful passions. The digging of holes was high on her list of techniques for coping with teenagers and their ways. But, even with all that, she would have watched every single episode of "The O.C." and loved every minute of it.
When my Nana spoke, then, you listened. Because when she spoke, she always made sense. Because when she spoke, you felt like she understood you. And she always had a little gleam in her eye when she dispensed advice, as she did comprehend the hearts and minds of young people.
So, here I present to you the one piece of sex advice she ever gave me. I remember it clearly to this very day. We were in her "TV room" -- probably after watching one of the soaps that she loved. She was standing up, stretched out to her full 5'11'' height. And she said:
"Why should you have sex before you get married? If you have sex before you get married, then what will you have to look forward to?"
That was all she said. Nothing about sin or hell or the Theology Of The Body. Just, "What will you have to look forward to?" And, boy, in the midst of the Sexual Revolution, that did give me pause. Because when you are in the "middle of it" with a hot guy (or a hot girl, or whatever), it is hard to remember theological stuff, but it is not hard to remember a statement like that.
Again, this is not a judgement on anybody. Everybody is free to make their own decisions about sex. It's just something I present for your consideration. And it is a memory that brings a smile to my lips.
These are just my thoughts. If you roll differently, that's cool. I'm nobody's judge and jury. Believe me, I know what it feels like to be judged. And it doesn't feel too good.
I am Catholic. Growing up Catholic, I was taught the Catholic ideas about sex. Many people misunderstand the Catholic ideas about sex. I have heard Catholicism referred to as an "anti-sex cult." That makes me giggle.
Anyway, amongst all the theological sex discussion that I grew up with, there is one statement which still stands out to me to this day. It was spoken to my by my Italian immigrant peasant-farmer-turned-candle-factory-worker Nana. Before I tell you what she said, though, let me tell you a little bit about her.
My Nana was cool. And she was no prude. In the family, it was known that she and my Grandpa were, as you might put it, "into each other." And she loved the handsome blonde guy on "The Lawrence Welk Show" and she loved her soap opera hotties. I tell you, if "The O.C." had been on when I was a young girl, my Nana would have been right there watching it with us. I think she would have dug Sandy Cohen and Jimmy Cooper (and, yes, even Ryan Atwood). Although, as we watched it together, she probably would have injected some of her Nana-wisdom into the whole situation. For example, she would have told us that the whole idea of Ryan in that poolhouse just wasn't good sense. She would have made him leave all the blinds open 24/7. And he would never have gotten away with taking off in the Range Rover in a fit of temper. My Nana was like 5'11" and 180 -- and Ryan just would not have gotten away with crap like that. Ryan would also never have been able to pull the wool over her eyes in his attempt to sneak across the border to finish off that Volchok character. My Nana would have seen that coming a mile away. And it just wouldn't have happened. She would have sent him outside to dig post holes or paint the house until he cooled off. That was her way of dealing with youthful passions. The digging of holes was high on her list of techniques for coping with teenagers and their ways. But, even with all that, she would have watched every single episode of "The O.C." and loved every minute of it.
When my Nana spoke, then, you listened. Because when she spoke, she always made sense. Because when she spoke, you felt like she understood you. And she always had a little gleam in her eye when she dispensed advice, as she did comprehend the hearts and minds of young people.
So, here I present to you the one piece of sex advice she ever gave me. I remember it clearly to this very day. We were in her "TV room" -- probably after watching one of the soaps that she loved. She was standing up, stretched out to her full 5'11'' height. And she said:
"Why should you have sex before you get married? If you have sex before you get married, then what will you have to look forward to?"
That was all she said. Nothing about sin or hell or the Theology Of The Body. Just, "What will you have to look forward to?" And, boy, in the midst of the Sexual Revolution, that did give me pause. Because when you are in the "middle of it" with a hot guy (or a hot girl, or whatever), it is hard to remember theological stuff, but it is not hard to remember a statement like that.
Again, this is not a judgement on anybody. Everybody is free to make their own decisions about sex. It's just something I present for your consideration. And it is a memory that brings a smile to my lips.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
The O.C., Fishing Boats, Manual Labor, And My Dad
I haven't written anything in a long time, as life has been pretty chaotic lately. Of course, there have been the holidays. There have also been other things -- family health problems, weddings -- a mixture of the good and the bad. But, I have missed blogging. So, I thought I would start out 2013 by talking about two of my favorite subjects -- "The O.C." and my dad.
At one point during the four seasons of "The O.C.", Ryan becomes dejected. Yes, I know he spends most of his time being dejected. But, this particular time, he decides it would be a good idea to go off and work on a fishing boat for several months. Of course, none of the other characters in the show think this is a good idea. I, on the contrary, thought it was a marvelous plan. Why? It reminded me of my dad and his very wise ideas about life and work.
Now, don't get me wrong. My dad encouraged my sisters and I to go to college. He told us that it would make life much easier for us. You see, he had not gone to college. He went for a semester, after his two years in the army were over, but he didn't think much of the professors and their ideas. He explained to us how one of his teachers tried to tell the class that nobody and nothing was really there. That they were all just imagining everything. Of course, which of them was the real one who was actually doing the imagining was not made clear. This kind of thing frustrated my very down-to-earth father to no end. One day, though, when he was at Bank of America depositing some money, the manager came over to him and offered him a job as a teller. (That is the way getting a job used to work in the "old days.") My dad jumped at the chance. And he ended up having a pretty successful career at the bank, but he realized that he was sometimes passed over for promotions or had to work harder for them because he had no degree. So, he told us that we should just buckle down and get that piece of paper, even if it meant putting up with some "nutty" thinking along the way.
Even as he thought getting a degree was a very important thing, though, my father always taught me about the value of hard work and the wisdom of the working man (or woman). He was of the opinion that those who are not formally educated, who do the "blue-collar" jobs in our society, are often smarter than those with advanced degrees. He felt that because they usually do not make much money, and have to work really hard to get ahead, that they develop common sense about how to interact with people and solve the practical problems of life -- like providing food, clothing, transportation, and shelter for themselves and their families.
And my father's positive opinion of working-class people was proven to me by those individuals I met through him. After working for 16 years at Bank of America, he left the suit and tie behind to become a general contractor. He had a partner and they ran a pretty small company, but they would hire sub-contractors for various jobs that they did. I, therefore, had the privilege of meeting many plumbers, electricians, painters, roofers, appliance repairmen, etc. My father knew the very best of these working men, and he thought very highly of them. And they, in turn, thought very highly of him. When I lived in the Bay Area and I needed something done in my house, my dad would send the very best guy available to my assistance. The job was always done right, by a polite man who never left a mess. And each of these men would tell me how great my father was and how much they enjoyed doing jobs for him. I don't really miss living in the Bay Area, but -- I tell you truly -- I miss those guys when something springs a leak in my home.
Because of his life experience, then, my dad never thought of it as a negative thing to be a working-class person. In fact, I remember him making numerous comments through the years about how spending some time digging ditches could be the very best thing for a young man's character. So, if my son was having some struggles in life and he told me that he wanted to spend several months working on a fishing boat -- saving up some money and contemplating his future -- I would totally and completely give him the green light. Not only would he learn a lot about himself, he would gain an appreciation of those who spend their lives doing that kind of work. For, it is a kind of work that does require skill and common sense. The kind of skill and common sense that it is not a waste of time acquiring from those who might be willing to teach it to you.
At one point during the four seasons of "The O.C.", Ryan becomes dejected. Yes, I know he spends most of his time being dejected. But, this particular time, he decides it would be a good idea to go off and work on a fishing boat for several months. Of course, none of the other characters in the show think this is a good idea. I, on the contrary, thought it was a marvelous plan. Why? It reminded me of my dad and his very wise ideas about life and work.
Now, don't get me wrong. My dad encouraged my sisters and I to go to college. He told us that it would make life much easier for us. You see, he had not gone to college. He went for a semester, after his two years in the army were over, but he didn't think much of the professors and their ideas. He explained to us how one of his teachers tried to tell the class that nobody and nothing was really there. That they were all just imagining everything. Of course, which of them was the real one who was actually doing the imagining was not made clear. This kind of thing frustrated my very down-to-earth father to no end. One day, though, when he was at Bank of America depositing some money, the manager came over to him and offered him a job as a teller. (That is the way getting a job used to work in the "old days.") My dad jumped at the chance. And he ended up having a pretty successful career at the bank, but he realized that he was sometimes passed over for promotions or had to work harder for them because he had no degree. So, he told us that we should just buckle down and get that piece of paper, even if it meant putting up with some "nutty" thinking along the way.
Even as he thought getting a degree was a very important thing, though, my father always taught me about the value of hard work and the wisdom of the working man (or woman). He was of the opinion that those who are not formally educated, who do the "blue-collar" jobs in our society, are often smarter than those with advanced degrees. He felt that because they usually do not make much money, and have to work really hard to get ahead, that they develop common sense about how to interact with people and solve the practical problems of life -- like providing food, clothing, transportation, and shelter for themselves and their families.
And my father's positive opinion of working-class people was proven to me by those individuals I met through him. After working for 16 years at Bank of America, he left the suit and tie behind to become a general contractor. He had a partner and they ran a pretty small company, but they would hire sub-contractors for various jobs that they did. I, therefore, had the privilege of meeting many plumbers, electricians, painters, roofers, appliance repairmen, etc. My father knew the very best of these working men, and he thought very highly of them. And they, in turn, thought very highly of him. When I lived in the Bay Area and I needed something done in my house, my dad would send the very best guy available to my assistance. The job was always done right, by a polite man who never left a mess. And each of these men would tell me how great my father was and how much they enjoyed doing jobs for him. I don't really miss living in the Bay Area, but -- I tell you truly -- I miss those guys when something springs a leak in my home.
Because of his life experience, then, my dad never thought of it as a negative thing to be a working-class person. In fact, I remember him making numerous comments through the years about how spending some time digging ditches could be the very best thing for a young man's character. So, if my son was having some struggles in life and he told me that he wanted to spend several months working on a fishing boat -- saving up some money and contemplating his future -- I would totally and completely give him the green light. Not only would he learn a lot about himself, he would gain an appreciation of those who spend their lives doing that kind of work. For, it is a kind of work that does require skill and common sense. The kind of skill and common sense that it is not a waste of time acquiring from those who might be willing to teach it to you.
Monday, November 19, 2012
"The O.C." And The Best Of Liberal Thought
As I have mentioned before, I really enjoy watching "The O.C." Yes, I am behind the times a bit. And, yes, this show has many dramatic soap-opera elements about it. But, it has many other elements, as well. The one I will be discussing today is how, to me, this "sexy, teenage soap" espouses the best of liberal thought -- at least, the best of liberal thought as I have experienced it in my life.
I am a pretty conservative person -- religiously, politically, in my life as a wife and mom. I did earn my college degree at San Francisco State University, though. And most of my teachers at that storied institution, and many of my friends, were pretty (extremely ?) liberal. In watching "The O.C." I have been reminded of my experience in college and the things I learned to appreciate there from those who embraced the more "progressive" view of things.
One of the main characters in "The O.C." is a man named Sandy Cohen. He is a Jewish, Berkeley-educated public defender married to a beautiful, kind, very wealthy Protestant woman. These two have a 16-year-old son, Seth, who is rather socially awkward, but has great potential for a certain romantic coolness. The premise of the show is that, in the course of doing his job, Sandy comes across an enigmatic, soulful young man (Ryan Atwood) who has run afoul of the law (albeit, rather unintentionally). Seeing the goodness in this young man, Sandy doesn't want to leave him to the whims and vagaries of "the system," so he brings the teenager home to live with his family in a monied area of Orange County.
Throughout the four seasons of "The O.C.", Sandy faces many situations -- with Ryan and Seth, with his wife, in his work and community -- which challenge him and necessitate a response. He is not a perfect man and doesn't always make perfect decisions, but the humanity with which this character responds to both people and situations reflect what I consider to be the true beauty of liberal values.
First of all, in bringing Ryan home, Sandy personifies the liberal value of reaching out to the less fortunate. Of seeing the true potential in someone who has been treated rather harshly by life -- unstable family situation, low socioeconomic status, sub-par schools. He is willing to give that person a chance to see what he can really do with his life. And Sandy doesn't give up on Ryan when he makes poor decisions at times. He encourages Ryan to reflect on and rectify situations in which he hasn't handled himself properly. Sandy trusts Ryan, when all is said and done, to do what is right. He trusts in that people are, generally speaking, created to be good.
Which leads me to the next "liberal value" I see Sandy Cohen putting into action. And that is the value of withholding judgment when someone (especially a young someone) screws up -- allowing that person to learn from his mistakes without humiliation. Having hope that the person will, in fact, go on to be better for the experiences he has had. Throughout my education, the liberals in my life gave me confidence, because they gave me the freedom to try things out -- both actions and ideas -- in order that I could learn and figure things out for myself. I tried to make good decisions; but, of course, I wasn't always successful in that effort. And when I made mistakes, I didn't feel condemnation from these progressives. Instead, I felt compassion and understanding. This compassion and understanding gave me the strength I needed to pick myself up and move on. The sense of freedom and trust these individuals gave me also allowed me to express myself with sincerity, instead of making me feel I had to conform to a certain way of thinking out of fear that I would be rejected. And in being able to express what I truly felt, I was able to "shake out" my ideas -- test them among different people and in various situations, to see if they would truly hold up. And this is what I see in the interaction of the Sandy and Ryan (and Sandy and Seth) characters.
Sandy Cohen also embraces the best of liberal thought in his religious outlook and community life. One of my favorite episodes centers around the Jewish celebration of Passover in the Cohen household. At the Sedar meal, Sandy leads the prayer. As part of the prayer, he calls to mind an individual's and family's obligation to society -- both in the smaller community and larger world. And this character does put that idea into practice throughout all the seasons of the show. He struggles against the temptations of selfish individualism and material greed, always attempting to do what is truly the right thing for people and society. Even if it costs him personally.
Of course, Sandy Cohen -- progressive maverick -- at times does things much differently as a parent than I would. I would never be making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for my 18-year-old son so that he could go off to Vegas for New Year's Eve to have sex with his 18-year-old girlfriend. (Knowing Sandy as I do, I must say that he probably sneaked some condoms into that cooler, along with the sandwiches). I also would never give my handsome, charming stepson his own pool house, equipped with a king-sized bed made up with satin sheets and fluffy pillows. And one of my favorite scenes -- I love it especially because it is something I would NEVER do -- is when Ryan is going off on one of his missions of vengeance. In the COHENS' RANGE ROVER, of all things. And Sandy is standing calmly by the open driver's side window, trying to calmly talk Ryan out of his insane plan. And Ryan drives away. And Sandy calmly lets him. I WOULD BE FREAKING DIVING INTO THAT WINDOW AND REMOVING THE KEYS FROM THE IGNITION AND DRAGGING RYAN BY HIS EAR BACK HOME AND LOCKING HIM (BY HIMSELF, WITH NO GIRLS) IN THE POOL HOUSE UNTIL HE CALMED THE HELL DOWN. But -- hey -- that's just conservative old me. ;)
I am a pretty conservative person -- religiously, politically, in my life as a wife and mom. I did earn my college degree at San Francisco State University, though. And most of my teachers at that storied institution, and many of my friends, were pretty (extremely ?) liberal. In watching "The O.C." I have been reminded of my experience in college and the things I learned to appreciate there from those who embraced the more "progressive" view of things.
One of the main characters in "The O.C." is a man named Sandy Cohen. He is a Jewish, Berkeley-educated public defender married to a beautiful, kind, very wealthy Protestant woman. These two have a 16-year-old son, Seth, who is rather socially awkward, but has great potential for a certain romantic coolness. The premise of the show is that, in the course of doing his job, Sandy comes across an enigmatic, soulful young man (Ryan Atwood) who has run afoul of the law (albeit, rather unintentionally). Seeing the goodness in this young man, Sandy doesn't want to leave him to the whims and vagaries of "the system," so he brings the teenager home to live with his family in a monied area of Orange County.
Throughout the four seasons of "The O.C.", Sandy faces many situations -- with Ryan and Seth, with his wife, in his work and community -- which challenge him and necessitate a response. He is not a perfect man and doesn't always make perfect decisions, but the humanity with which this character responds to both people and situations reflect what I consider to be the true beauty of liberal values.
First of all, in bringing Ryan home, Sandy personifies the liberal value of reaching out to the less fortunate. Of seeing the true potential in someone who has been treated rather harshly by life -- unstable family situation, low socioeconomic status, sub-par schools. He is willing to give that person a chance to see what he can really do with his life. And Sandy doesn't give up on Ryan when he makes poor decisions at times. He encourages Ryan to reflect on and rectify situations in which he hasn't handled himself properly. Sandy trusts Ryan, when all is said and done, to do what is right. He trusts in that people are, generally speaking, created to be good.
Which leads me to the next "liberal value" I see Sandy Cohen putting into action. And that is the value of withholding judgment when someone (especially a young someone) screws up -- allowing that person to learn from his mistakes without humiliation. Having hope that the person will, in fact, go on to be better for the experiences he has had. Throughout my education, the liberals in my life gave me confidence, because they gave me the freedom to try things out -- both actions and ideas -- in order that I could learn and figure things out for myself. I tried to make good decisions; but, of course, I wasn't always successful in that effort. And when I made mistakes, I didn't feel condemnation from these progressives. Instead, I felt compassion and understanding. This compassion and understanding gave me the strength I needed to pick myself up and move on. The sense of freedom and trust these individuals gave me also allowed me to express myself with sincerity, instead of making me feel I had to conform to a certain way of thinking out of fear that I would be rejected. And in being able to express what I truly felt, I was able to "shake out" my ideas -- test them among different people and in various situations, to see if they would truly hold up. And this is what I see in the interaction of the Sandy and Ryan (and Sandy and Seth) characters.
Sandy Cohen also embraces the best of liberal thought in his religious outlook and community life. One of my favorite episodes centers around the Jewish celebration of Passover in the Cohen household. At the Sedar meal, Sandy leads the prayer. As part of the prayer, he calls to mind an individual's and family's obligation to society -- both in the smaller community and larger world. And this character does put that idea into practice throughout all the seasons of the show. He struggles against the temptations of selfish individualism and material greed, always attempting to do what is truly the right thing for people and society. Even if it costs him personally.
Of course, Sandy Cohen -- progressive maverick -- at times does things much differently as a parent than I would. I would never be making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for my 18-year-old son so that he could go off to Vegas for New Year's Eve to have sex with his 18-year-old girlfriend. (Knowing Sandy as I do, I must say that he probably sneaked some condoms into that cooler, along with the sandwiches). I also would never give my handsome, charming stepson his own pool house, equipped with a king-sized bed made up with satin sheets and fluffy pillows. And one of my favorite scenes -- I love it especially because it is something I would NEVER do -- is when Ryan is going off on one of his missions of vengeance. In the COHENS' RANGE ROVER, of all things. And Sandy is standing calmly by the open driver's side window, trying to calmly talk Ryan out of his insane plan. And Ryan drives away. And Sandy calmly lets him. I WOULD BE FREAKING DIVING INTO THAT WINDOW AND REMOVING THE KEYS FROM THE IGNITION AND DRAGGING RYAN BY HIS EAR BACK HOME AND LOCKING HIM (BY HIMSELF, WITH NO GIRLS) IN THE POOL HOUSE UNTIL HE CALMED THE HELL DOWN. But -- hey -- that's just conservative old me. ;)
Friday, August 24, 2012
King David, The Pool House, And The Big, Comfy Bed
It is Friday. I am in a celebratory mood. And I am just going to have fun writing this crazy-ass post. ;-)
As I have said before, my daughters and I are engaged in the endeavor of watching The O.C. This is a TV show which ran for four seasons starting in 2003. And, yes, I am quite behind in my television watching. The main character is a young man of 17 named Ryan Atwood (played by a 20-something Ben McKenzie). Ryan is truly a King David-type character (but, that is another post), though possessing a rather troubled past. He is taken in by the family of his public defender after a scrape with the law. The public defender makes no money, of course, but is married to a fabulously wealthy woman, with whom he has one son who is the same age as Ryan. Thus, they all come live together in the very upscale community of Newport Beach in Orange County.
When Ryan arrives at his new home, the mother of the family decides that he will take up residence in the pool house. When the doors to the pool house are opened, we see, in the middle of the room, a giant comfy bed -- made up with masculine linens and all sorts of fluffy pillows. Uh-huh. If I was the mother in this household, there is no possible way I would put my new, handsome, 17-year-old, King David-like, worldly-wise stepson all by himself in a pool house with this big, wondrous bed right smack dab in the center of it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Perhaps I am just narrow-minded, but anyway....
As the story of Ryan and his new family and friends unfolds, I have come to see this bed being used to indicate the status of this boy's relationships with all the different characters, and also his own moods. Fascinating. Everything revolves around the bed. If Ryan is feeling lonely, he reclines by himself in a mopey mood on the bed. If he has decided that life must take a more serious turn and he is thinking about his future, he is seen studying on the bed. If he is not feeling so close with his girlfriend, they sit on the edge of the bed; and if he is feeling closer to her, of course they make out on the bed atop all the fluffy pillows. With a platonic friend, a closer relationship is indicated if they talk on the bed together; more distance is reflected if Ryan is sitting on the bed and his friend on the floor or a nearby chair. A tentative new relationship with a girl might be illustrated by both of them sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, perhaps playing a video game. When the girl that Ryan gets pregnant comes to reside with this family for a while, she is given the pool house to stay in and the big, comfy bed to sleep in, with Ryan being moved into the main house (where I personally would have put him in the first place; but, then nobody would have watched the show). You see her -- a very beautiful young woman -- through the windows of this lovely structure, making the bed. Meanwhile, Ryan and his current girlfriend sit together outside, with Ryan looking, understandably, concerned (drastic understatement here). The visual effect of this scene shows us and causes us to feel the pain of Ryan's situation in a way that 1000 words never could. And when Ryan leaves his happy new community to go back to his hometown with the pregnant girl, because he feels it is his duty to do so, the image of the mother of the family stripping this bed while crying many tears is stunning -- leaving the audience to grasp fully the impact Ryan has had among the people who have come to love him. He eventually does return, but during his absence, there are shots of the bed with the blankets and sheets carefully folded at the foot of it. A stark illustration of a heartbreaking situation.
Maybe I am imagining this whole thing, through the oft-strange workings of my mind, but I don't think so. I believe what I am seeing is some delightful creativity and compelling story-telling. And I tip my hat to the creators, producers, writers, and actors of The O.C. Kudos!!!
As I have said before, my daughters and I are engaged in the endeavor of watching The O.C. This is a TV show which ran for four seasons starting in 2003. And, yes, I am quite behind in my television watching. The main character is a young man of 17 named Ryan Atwood (played by a 20-something Ben McKenzie). Ryan is truly a King David-type character (but, that is another post), though possessing a rather troubled past. He is taken in by the family of his public defender after a scrape with the law. The public defender makes no money, of course, but is married to a fabulously wealthy woman, with whom he has one son who is the same age as Ryan. Thus, they all come live together in the very upscale community of Newport Beach in Orange County.
When Ryan arrives at his new home, the mother of the family decides that he will take up residence in the pool house. When the doors to the pool house are opened, we see, in the middle of the room, a giant comfy bed -- made up with masculine linens and all sorts of fluffy pillows. Uh-huh. If I was the mother in this household, there is no possible way I would put my new, handsome, 17-year-old, King David-like, worldly-wise stepson all by himself in a pool house with this big, wondrous bed right smack dab in the center of it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Perhaps I am just narrow-minded, but anyway....
As the story of Ryan and his new family and friends unfolds, I have come to see this bed being used to indicate the status of this boy's relationships with all the different characters, and also his own moods. Fascinating. Everything revolves around the bed. If Ryan is feeling lonely, he reclines by himself in a mopey mood on the bed. If he has decided that life must take a more serious turn and he is thinking about his future, he is seen studying on the bed. If he is not feeling so close with his girlfriend, they sit on the edge of the bed; and if he is feeling closer to her, of course they make out on the bed atop all the fluffy pillows. With a platonic friend, a closer relationship is indicated if they talk on the bed together; more distance is reflected if Ryan is sitting on the bed and his friend on the floor or a nearby chair. A tentative new relationship with a girl might be illustrated by both of them sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, perhaps playing a video game. When the girl that Ryan gets pregnant comes to reside with this family for a while, she is given the pool house to stay in and the big, comfy bed to sleep in, with Ryan being moved into the main house (where I personally would have put him in the first place; but, then nobody would have watched the show). You see her -- a very beautiful young woman -- through the windows of this lovely structure, making the bed. Meanwhile, Ryan and his current girlfriend sit together outside, with Ryan looking, understandably, concerned (drastic understatement here). The visual effect of this scene shows us and causes us to feel the pain of Ryan's situation in a way that 1000 words never could. And when Ryan leaves his happy new community to go back to his hometown with the pregnant girl, because he feels it is his duty to do so, the image of the mother of the family stripping this bed while crying many tears is stunning -- leaving the audience to grasp fully the impact Ryan has had among the people who have come to love him. He eventually does return, but during his absence, there are shots of the bed with the blankets and sheets carefully folded at the foot of it. A stark illustration of a heartbreaking situation.
Maybe I am imagining this whole thing, through the oft-strange workings of my mind, but I don't think so. I believe what I am seeing is some delightful creativity and compelling story-telling. And I tip my hat to the creators, producers, writers, and actors of The O.C. Kudos!!!
Saturday, August 11, 2012
The Golden God Of The Sidewalk
A couple of days ago, I wondered in this blog about giving teens a little space to try stuff out, to take some chances. I would like to give a personal example of what I was talking about. You will see what a goose I was, but this experience taught me one hell of a lot.
One summer vacation, when I was in my late teens, I was a little bored -- waiting for school to start again. It was a hot day and I decided to take the dog for a walk, wearing my cute little shorts and top. On the last leg of my journey, I came upon who I will refer to as The Golden God Of The Sidewalk. He was a young man I found sunbathing in a lounge chair on the sidewalk in front of his house. A young man a little older than I, with beautiful blond curls cascading down to his shoulders, a gorgeous tan, and a lot of upper body going on -- wearing nothing but his little pair of shorts. So, we struck up a conversation and I ended up asking him if he wanted to come home with me for a visit.
Lest you fear what happened next, I will tell you now that my entire family was home -- dad, mom, and two younger sisters. They all visited amiably with said Golden God and he visited amiably with them. He even played my youngest sister's guitar, getting suntan oil all over it in the process. Something that I don't think she has ever forgiven me for, even unto this very day. I thought he was pretty cool.
Upon leaving, though, he turned toward me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. Quite dramatically. My first kiss. He merrily departed, leaving me with the realization that the entire lower portion of my face was covered in, um, his saliva. Ryan Atwood's talents he did not possess. Running to the bathroom, I proceeded to wash my face with hot, soapy water and then disinfect it with alcohol. Sort of an over-reaction? Yup.
I thought that was the end of that. But, over the course of the next month, he called me at least a few times a week, saying things like, "I got a car. You wanna go out?" In my great maturity, I made lame excuses and had my sisters tell him I wasn't there. Real dignified and kind of me, right?
About a year later, I saw him in a shopping mall. He had a new hairstyle and a hickie on his neck. When I spied him, I turned around and fled and hid in a store. But, he had also spied me and chased me through the mall, came into said store, and searched for me. He did find me. We had a brief conversation and parted ways.
I proceeded to feel awful about all this.Not because I brought him home and kissed him, but because I failed to behave kindly toward him when he was obviously so fond of me. It taught me something, the hard way, about how to behave toward others.
But, it is also now a sweet memory. My Golden God Of The Sidewalk, who gave me my first kiss and thought I was hot enough to be worth chasing -- at least through a mall. ;)
One summer vacation, when I was in my late teens, I was a little bored -- waiting for school to start again. It was a hot day and I decided to take the dog for a walk, wearing my cute little shorts and top. On the last leg of my journey, I came upon who I will refer to as The Golden God Of The Sidewalk. He was a young man I found sunbathing in a lounge chair on the sidewalk in front of his house. A young man a little older than I, with beautiful blond curls cascading down to his shoulders, a gorgeous tan, and a lot of upper body going on -- wearing nothing but his little pair of shorts. So, we struck up a conversation and I ended up asking him if he wanted to come home with me for a visit.
Lest you fear what happened next, I will tell you now that my entire family was home -- dad, mom, and two younger sisters. They all visited amiably with said Golden God and he visited amiably with them. He even played my youngest sister's guitar, getting suntan oil all over it in the process. Something that I don't think she has ever forgiven me for, even unto this very day. I thought he was pretty cool.
Upon leaving, though, he turned toward me, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. Quite dramatically. My first kiss. He merrily departed, leaving me with the realization that the entire lower portion of my face was covered in, um, his saliva. Ryan Atwood's talents he did not possess. Running to the bathroom, I proceeded to wash my face with hot, soapy water and then disinfect it with alcohol. Sort of an over-reaction? Yup.
I thought that was the end of that. But, over the course of the next month, he called me at least a few times a week, saying things like, "I got a car. You wanna go out?" In my great maturity, I made lame excuses and had my sisters tell him I wasn't there. Real dignified and kind of me, right?
About a year later, I saw him in a shopping mall. He had a new hairstyle and a hickie on his neck. When I spied him, I turned around and fled and hid in a store. But, he had also spied me and chased me through the mall, came into said store, and searched for me. He did find me. We had a brief conversation and parted ways.
I proceeded to feel awful about all this.Not because I brought him home and kissed him, but because I failed to behave kindly toward him when he was obviously so fond of me. It taught me something, the hard way, about how to behave toward others.
But, it is also now a sweet memory. My Golden God Of The Sidewalk, who gave me my first kiss and thought I was hot enough to be worth chasing -- at least through a mall. ;)
Friday, August 10, 2012
The OC -- Selling Teen Sex, Or Not?
Have you seen The OC? Yes, I am way behind on my television watching. Recently, though, I have been watching this fascinating show in the company of my 22 and 23 year old daughters. It concerns a group of friends and relatives living in the wealthy conclave of Newport Beach who are visited upon by a young man from Chino named Ryan Atwood. Ryan is thoughtful, a little haunted, worldly-wise, sensitive, and, yes, a hottie. He could also be the U.S. Ambassador to Iran, so sensible and skilled at bringing together warring factions he is.
Anyway, you have this dude Ryan making his way around Newport in his white tanks, with other attractive youths, both male and female, swarming around him and so -- here comes the teen sex.
Now, many people would say this show sells teen sex. You have all these very attractive "teens" -- most of whom are actually played by people in their 20's -- in various sexual situations. Sometimes making out. Sometimes more than making out. Kind of appealing to a 16-year-old, right? I mean, I have never seen anyone plant one onscreen like that Ryan person. Except for Chris Bruno in "The Last Of The Romantics", which is probably the sweetest movie kiss ever. But, I digress.
When you really look at what happens, though, could this show actually be doing the opposite of selling teen sex? Ryan gets a beautiful girl pregnant and she tells him the baby is not his so that he will go to college and have a bright future. She is a strong and selfless person, who really shows that there is some true love for him in her heart. He is strong and selfless, too, willing to give up his plans to be with her. And so we are shown that teen sex is not without consequences -- serious consequences. And then we have the sweet couple -- Seth and Summer -- who also really love each other and decide to have sex. Which is pretty much an unromantic disaster in the beginning. Very REAL. There are also Luke and Marissa. She loses her virginity to him, which makes all the difficulties in their relationship and their eventual break-up just that much harder to bear. I mean, let's face it, teens are emotional creatures just learning to form romantic relationships. Sex is like throwing gas on the fire, and The OC illustrates that in a powerful and human way.
And there is also all the talk about condoms in The OC. As you see, I am giving this subject its very own paragraph. The show's writers are trying to be responsible, I presume, by incorporating the subject of condom usage into the characters' sexual activities. Summer asks Seth if he has a condom on him, for example, before they have their first intimate encounter -- the encounter that ends up being an epic disaster. So, you can look at it this way. Two teenagers. Trying to figure out how to make love for the first time, while simultaneously attempting proper condom usage in the midst of it all. Yeah.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, and for considering this possibility: Ryan Atwood -- The Anti-Teen-Sex God. And Ambassador to Iran??? ;-)
Anyway, you have this dude Ryan making his way around Newport in his white tanks, with other attractive youths, both male and female, swarming around him and so -- here comes the teen sex.
Now, many people would say this show sells teen sex. You have all these very attractive "teens" -- most of whom are actually played by people in their 20's -- in various sexual situations. Sometimes making out. Sometimes more than making out. Kind of appealing to a 16-year-old, right? I mean, I have never seen anyone plant one onscreen like that Ryan person. Except for Chris Bruno in "The Last Of The Romantics", which is probably the sweetest movie kiss ever. But, I digress.
When you really look at what happens, though, could this show actually be doing the opposite of selling teen sex? Ryan gets a beautiful girl pregnant and she tells him the baby is not his so that he will go to college and have a bright future. She is a strong and selfless person, who really shows that there is some true love for him in her heart. He is strong and selfless, too, willing to give up his plans to be with her. And so we are shown that teen sex is not without consequences -- serious consequences. And then we have the sweet couple -- Seth and Summer -- who also really love each other and decide to have sex. Which is pretty much an unromantic disaster in the beginning. Very REAL. There are also Luke and Marissa. She loses her virginity to him, which makes all the difficulties in their relationship and their eventual break-up just that much harder to bear. I mean, let's face it, teens are emotional creatures just learning to form romantic relationships. Sex is like throwing gas on the fire, and The OC illustrates that in a powerful and human way.
And there is also all the talk about condoms in The OC. As you see, I am giving this subject its very own paragraph. The show's writers are trying to be responsible, I presume, by incorporating the subject of condom usage into the characters' sexual activities. Summer asks Seth if he has a condom on him, for example, before they have their first intimate encounter -- the encounter that ends up being an epic disaster. So, you can look at it this way. Two teenagers. Trying to figure out how to make love for the first time, while simultaneously attempting proper condom usage in the midst of it all. Yeah.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, and for considering this possibility: Ryan Atwood -- The Anti-Teen-Sex God. And Ambassador to Iran??? ;-)
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