“They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity.”

- Bob Parr/ Mr. Incredible

Children across America are getting awards.  All the time.  These accolades are not for academic excellence or superior athletic achievements.  They are receiving certificates and applause for handing in their homework on time, paying attention in class, and walking in line without kicking another kid.  They are celebrating the stuff that we expect them to do, not the exceptional feats that overwhelm us emotionally and make us update our Facebook status.  Perhaps the writer of The Incredibles was as disturbed by this trend as I was and delivered an adventure for those who recognize true greatness.

I used to love going to the movies–but that has changed.  Frankly, not since The Lord of the Rings trilogy have I felt the ride was worth the price of admission.  Regardless of how I felt about the decline of the art form, I had to curtail my movie going, anyway.  My husband and I have an autistic son with sensory issues that prevent him from being able to enjoy the experience.  So we started a tradition in our house called “Movie Night.”  We pull out the sofa bed, make popcorn, get in our pajamas and pick a movie to watch together.  We have made some terrible mistakes.  Where the Wild Things Are barely resembled the book I loved as a child and certainly was not a family film.  It is a depressing story with no resolution or hope.  I don’t want my family films to be depressing.  I want to be motivated, transported, and moved.   (more…)

“Thing is, he’s going to kill me.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

“Yes, of course I have.”

“And what happened?”

She shakes her head from side to side, wraps her arms protectively around her chest.

“I got a restraining order against Ned, that’s my ex-boyfriend. But you know what good that is, don’t you?”

“Tell me.”

She inscribes a big zero in the air. (more…)

Note: Links to previous chapters at end of this article.

“Attack, always attack.”

My friend, the heroic Israeli tank commander, told me that in the first few days of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, both fronts, The Sinai and The Golan, were so weakly defended that had the Egyptian or Syrian high command been strategically bolder, tactically smarter, and their soldiers braver, well, the Arab armies could have achieved massive breakthroughs, and Israel would have found herself facing genocide.

The torture of Reginald Denny

But small, actually tiny pockets, of brave, determined and very well trained Israeli troops, in some cases, just two or three tanks on the Golan, held their ground and attacked enemy forces sometimes a hundred times their strength.

(more…)

I have to protect my family.

I’m pretty sure the mob outside is dead serious about breaking in and getting down to some serious violence.

Not to mention liberating some pretty major karats. At the reception, I noticed huge diamonds whose glitter could induce seizures; watches: at least a dozen Cartier Tanks; I could not count the Rolex Oysters, and no doubt there’s enough loose cash to make your average L.A. rioter reasonably satisfied. This is, after all, an affluent Hollywood crowd.

(more…)

Hollywood is burning.

Karen and I lock every door in the house, shut tight the windows, we move through the house switching off all the lights.

 
L.A. Burns. Not a SFX scene from a movie.

Gazing from our bedroom window, we watch orange flames lick at the darkness, pillars of black smoke climbing into the sky. We can actually smell the acrid odor of burning rubber.

“Look how close they are,” says Karen.

“Just past La Cienega. Maybe eight blocks away.” (more…)