What Are We Looking For...

I think (with the exception of the Black Panther), we've finally saturated on Superhero movies. 

Why? 

Because we're tired of being shown heroes we cannot possibly become.  What we want from our heroes, is the inspiration to be heroic.  What Superman, Batman, Captain America, Iron Man, Wolverine, X-men,Thor, The Avengers, Justice League and the like do, is show people who are beyond us, in origin, in capacity, in some cases, in economics, and potential. We can't be these people.  We cannot become mutants, Asgardians or aliens or transfigured by super soldier serum.  We can only enjoy the escape, and return to ordinariness.  These films are rather like going on a roller coaster.  Once the ride is over, so is the thrill. 

What real heroes do, is inspire others to also be heroic.  It's part of why Wonder Woman was so successful.  The men who journeyed with her, were inspired to be super-heroic, and all the moreso because they lacked powers.  It's why Black Panther is also such a hit. The characters within struggle and find their courage to act. We don't need our heroes on the screen or in real life to be impossible.  We need them to be courageous and good.  So when we have super heros that are courageous AND good, we love it because of the characters' character, (like Spiderman, Wonder Woman, and Black Panther).  Their powers are the little extra. We'd like these characters as Peter Parker, Diana Prince and T'Challa. 

We are starving for examples in real life of people not preening, not preaching, not lecturing, not coming in after the fact to explain what should have been done, but for people to be fully present in the now and be both good and brave.   It's why we are starting to drift toward less fanciful movies, and more real life stories.  We want the extraordinary from the ordinary, a reminder to each of us, that it's possible. 

P.S. My son informs me, I should watch Logan, because it is darker and struggles with the hardness of doing the right thing. 

7 Quick Takes

1.  One week until Helen is due and I am a nervous wreck. I don't know if we'll make it on time. Editing and formatting take time.  I am hopeful.  But I tend to always feel like Charlie Brown about to kick the football, except I just KNOW that she's going to swipe the thing away when I get to the point of actually kicking.   I am excited. I'm proud. I'm also working on Penelope and so I'm ready to see people enjoying Helen.  I also want to see how she all comes together. I've been editing her in pieces so I want to see the whole thing, to read it from cover to cover and experience her as if I'd discovered this book instead of written it.  

2.  There are so many movies I want to see. I've seen Iron Man 3 before, we're going to Into the Darkness tonight (Can't wait can't wait can't wait!) and then there's Now You See Me. That one looks slick and cool. 

3.  I am also considering three new viewing addictions that currently are popular.  Downtown Abby, Game of Thrones...and Dr. Who.  Yes. I'm aware that they are cult phenomena, every one of them. Yes I'm aware I'm late to the party. What I'd like to know is which one should I sink my teeth into next and why.  Sell me. Give me the pitch of why I should watch whichever one you think worth watching.  

4.  Next week, I go to the reunion at Saint Mary's. I hope to walk to Notre Dame and light a candle at the grotto. I'll get to see two of my favorite teachers for lunch on Friday.  It stuns me that this was my life, my whole life only 25 years ago.  The passage of time seems like nothing, and yet there is so much that has been crammed into these past many years.  It leaves me winded. 

5.  Does anyone else feel like the razor of the world is cutting deeper these days?  For me, the news has become a daily assault on my peace and sensibilities.  I think it is why the Church gave us Pope Francis, because his exhortations to be more than a museum piece Catholic, to go out and be salt and light to the world, well we knew this, but it is so heartening, so warming to be invited.  

6.  Two kids are done with school, one has exams next week.  Then we have two weeks before everyone gets out! SUMMER!!!!!!!!I believe I love it even more than they....and I hate their summer math books more too.  I was going to equivocate on that last bit but it's true. I hate those books. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate them.  I don't care that they are good for boosting math skills. They are evil and ruin summer that should be spent grilling, swimming, reading book after book after book, catching frogs and fireflies (not at the same time) and playing cards with your parents.   You know what's not on that list?  Math books.  There. I said it.  Bleah.

7.  There's a new post over on Facebook page for The Book of Helen.  It is an open page so anyone on Facebook can go over and read it. I would ask if you haven't yet, to please please please like the page.  My goal this week is to break 100 likes.  Next week, we'll work on getting to 200. 

X-Men: No Class

Warning: Spoilers of a sort. I am ranting away, got my Catholic feminist hat on; buckle up!

I love the X-men.  As a kid, I bought them faithfully from 8th grade on; indeed I met my future husband because we both collected comic books.  I spied an X-men on his dresser when a group of friends had dragged me to this quad of boys' room for pizza.  We spent the next two hours discussing in nerdy detail, the plot twists and variant characters of Marvel's band of teenage mutants.  It resulted in me not leaving with my friends and getting a gentelmanly offer to walk me home in the rain to my college dorm across the street. (It was a mile and a half walk).   The result was a college romance that began three days into school and has lasted since, bringing 10 children in its wake.  

So not that I've established my bonifides as a fan, let me say I went to see the movie "X-men: First Class" last night with my best friend/husband and while I enjoyed the film, I have to pause and say "Boo. Hiss.  Baby, we've got a long way to go." to the producers/director/writers of this film. 

The men were beautifully rendered; complex and compelling with a gradual growth in maturity, friendship and accomplishment.   The story was great as you understood the relationship between Charles and Eric (Magneto) and the development/mistakes of the fellow male mutants that included humor, challenge, failure, loss and revenge.  There was much to recommend.

However, there were also five women in the movie as main characters; Mystique, Moria McTaggert, Magneto's Mom, Emma Frost and a girl who became a villianess who never warranted even a code name or a regular name.   With the exception of Magneto's mom, who was sent to the concentration camp and then shot before her son, all the other women were either naked or stripped to their very sexy lingerie.

I realize it's comic books, but it's 2011 people.  Garters people?  Really? 

Emma Frost wore that sort of corsette and not much else other than an occasionally discreet cape for playing peek-a-boo with the boys reading the magazine in the comic books of yore, so when they introduced the Hellfire Club, she was as dressed as she came in the original. 

Naturally, Moira McTaggert is a CIA operative trying to bust this secretive club and so she dresses as part of the entertainment to blend in; there are just scads of scantilly clad ladies walking everywhere in this club, but the back drop is Vegas and so we're not supposed to think too much about it. 

The nameless mutant woman with dragon fly wings who shoots acid naturally works as a stripper.  She gets called Angel as a nickname as a form of comic book irony. (She's a stripper but she's got a holy sounding name.  Cue titters).  We're supposed to feel her struggle and decision to become part of the bad group of mutants as a misguided attempt to maintain control over her world, as protection against being an object because of her mutant ability just as being a stripper allowed her to have control over her beauty by being the director of her sexual power beforehand.  Bleah. 

Then there's Mystique; a woman who has blue scaly skin, auburn red hair and yellow eyes.  She first comes into Charles Xavier's home as a ten year old thief but naturally, she's au naturale.  We're not supposed to think too much about this either, as she's Les Miserable type poor and Xavier's ultra aristocrat rich and offers her a home.   It's set in the 1950's but again, and maybe my studying of history is weak but I don't remember naked ten year old urchins running around Connecticut in any studies of that time period, blue, mutant or otherwise.  She later morphs into a beautiful blonde to blend in, but attempts and fails to seduce Xavier and the Beast as she walks around in a terry cloth white robe whenever she decides go blue to be "the real her."  She eventually gets to bed with Magneto who actually says, "I want you to be free."  Got that?  Get naked and you're real.  Get in bed with a man and you're free.  Ugh. Boo.  Bad. Stupid. Irritating. Annoying.  All of that. 

As a side note, neither Mystique or Angel even bother to train to hone their abilities or advance, while the men are shown struggling and engaged in self discovery about the limits or lack thereof of their gifts. They just watch.


I was mostly annoyed because X-men is part of my own story and I'd like to have been able to tell my older kids who also love Manga and superheroes and read comics and play hero clix and Yugi-oh! and Magic that they could go, but I don't want my daughters thinking this is what women do.  And I don't want my sons thinking this is what women should do.  So I can't say, "Go, you'll have a blast."  I can't say, "It's just mental eye candy."  Because the film sends a message I don't want and that ought to have gone extinct long before the Cuban missle crisis that is set as the backdrop of this storyline. 

Here's the bottom line, Hollywood needs to evolve it's mental DNA past using women as a backdrop and making their sexual coming of age in the bedroom as the ultimate manifestation of a female's identity.  This should be older than old by now, and this sort of idea should not get a reboot by virtue/vice of a remake of an old comic. 

For those who say "Hey Sherry, it's the X-men.  Lighten up."  I'd say, "It could have been so much better if they'd just grown up a bit."   Sigh.

A Valentine

My husband has gone out to dig out our driveway. We've been at it for four days. He brought out the stereo for musical motivation. The CD?

The sound track of "A Bridge Too Far."

For those unfamiliar with the film (a worthy watch of the heroism and insanity and luck and courage and sadness of Operation Market Garden); there are many quotable scenes but the one that perhaps gets used the most in our family is a discussion between two officers about a heavily fortified bridge that must be captured.

Brigadier General Gavin: What's the best way to take a bridge?
Maj. Julian Cook: Both ends at once.

Brigadier General Gavin: I'm sending two companies across the river by boat. I need a man with very special qualities to lead.
Maj. Julian Cook: Go on, sir.

Brigadier General Gavin: He's got to be tough enough to do it and he's got to be experienced enough to do it. Plus one more thing.

He's got to be dumb enough to do it... Start getting ready.

We switch roles based on who starts the conversation but here are a few examples:

What's the best way to clean the basement?
What's the best way to tackle the laundry?
How are we going to manage 5,6,7, 8, 9 children?
How are we going to pay for college?
How are we going to shovel all this snow? (They're predicting more tomorrow).

Junior Officer: what was all that about, Major?
Maj. Julian Cook: Well someone's come up with a real nightmare. Real nightmare. (Sending out all the junior officers to shovel as we speak).

Being the eternal optimist of the family, I'm now hunting through our collection of music for a different soundtrack; The Incredibles.

Uncharted Waters of Adulthood

My poor kids.

When I was growing up,the worst that could happen was my cousins who lived with us, coming by the front french glass doors of our house as I was ending a date.

"They're kissing They're kissing They're kissing They're kissing!" was the cry that echoed through the house. We weren't but as a teenager, one dies a 1000 times of humiliation. I was certain my Mom had put her up to it, but this has been denied consistently.

Now as the parent, it's my turn. I get to be the gatekeeper. This is uncharted territory. For years, I've supervised playdates, taken the time to know teachers and coaches and parents that surround my children's friends. Now, with a son in high school, I'd be hardpressed to pick his friends out of a line up, given the fact that the instutition at which he spends 8+ hours a day five days a week is more than an hour commute away.

We encouraged him to join a play, a club, anything to make friends more accessible. He did. Now, we must pay the price for our good counsel.

By being in a play, he had met and asked a girl on a date.

We tried to be nonchallant and vigilant at the same time. It meant we wafted between demanding that we be the drivers to pick the girl up and not insisting on getting her home address so we could google her family.

The date was on for this past Sunday. Because we were still unsure how this would work, I volunteered to take four children to see a seperate movie so we'd be oncall and available if anything disasterous happened. (Other than having your mother and two brothers and two sisters crash your first date)!

Our movie ended first. The other show had another hour to go, so I took my party home and returned to stake out the theatre. When my son came up with his date, her mother was talking with them. She had come along too. She had also taken the opportunity to catch a film she wouldn't otherwise get to see. We started up a conversation and hit it off.

I don't know how the date was for my son or for her,but as far as the moms were concerned, it was a fun evening. They gave each other a chaste hug and both parents went home sighing in vague contentment at having managed to cobble through the first hurdle of the next stage of parenting.

I'm thinking of putting in French glass doors and staking out his sisters for future date nights.

Let's Go to the Movies!

Back when I was merely in charge of five younglings, the Two Towers came out.
Man we wanted to see that movie. However, we were in between babysitters.

Sheer numbers required that we use adults at that point, I mean, who in this day and age had five kids? Most sentient beings over the age of 18 however, wanted extraordinary funding in return for doing what I did for free daily. Those who agreed, we used until they wizened up. I don’t think my kids were that difficult. She really wanted to go back home to Nepal. That's what she said in the letter anyway. The next babysitter who had lived in the town home across from us, suddenly enrolled in the community college and got very very busy. Then her phone stopped working altogether.

Our third sitter opted for a slightly less dramatic exit; she got married and had her own kids before moving out of the country. Having no grandparents within less than a six hour drive, we were going to miss out on Peter Jackson's second installment until it came out on DVD. Then we hit upon what seemed to us, a brilliant idea.

The late show. We'd wait an excruciating four weeks, when the crowds had significantly ebbed, and then, with the youngest dressed in sweatpants that could double as pj's, we'd take them to the movies and they'd fall asleep while we watched. Genius. Pure Genius!

The day arrived and willingly, we forked over what would have been the equivalent of a baby sitter's fee in kids’ tickets, and even more for the obligatory popcorn.

We were savvy enough to make sure no one got caffeine. We were punting on the parent screening of suitable material with respect to imaginary monsters, violence, scope, but we weren't so stupid as to pump them up with sugary guaranteed keep up until two o'clock am juice.

The last showing for the Two Towers was at 10:10. All of our ducklings tended to drop off at 8:30. They wouldn't last past the previews we told ourselves. Those couples who had managed to get a date night out sans kids looked slightly askance in our direction. We smiled weakly back and hoped our kids would be snoring silently soon.

Delusional. If NFL color commentators were able to screen our actions, they'd have explained to the audience what a mistake it was to start this project so late in the evening. The better play would have been to go to the movie at 8:30 proper, so natural fatigue would set in and do the job. Telling the kids they were going to a show and then postponing it past bed time by a good hour and half, we had missed the open window between natural sleepiness and getting that third wind.

The kids were actually reasonably good, only getting scared when say, there were lots of orcs in the scenes. One climbed into my lap and covered her eyes. Another made good use of his Dad's arm. The other three sat immersed in the film, including one I would have preferred to have seen a bit scared. I caught the eye of a woman sitting with her husband; she gave me a tsking look that said, "You should have known..." I resisted the urge to offer her the opportunity to babysit.

Since then, we haven't tried that plan. In fact, we've only made it to a few movies since the trilogy ended. One of them was Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I remember it vividly because sitting next to me was a family including four small kids and I spent much of the whole movie mentally wondering what possessed this mother to bring her young children on a Friday night to see a PG-13 movie and at the same time forcing myself not to give the tsking look. The woman must have sensed my struggle as she stopped to mention, "My babysitter quit on me and moved to France."

Now that I have teenagers, it's possible for us to return to the movies with a clean conscience, but I get text messages from my oldest two. "M& P had a fight. No one was hurt. When r u coming home?"

Paying my son for eating pizza with his friends and watching his siblings who had already gone to bed felt vaguely like extortion but my husband viewed it as an investment. "We're guaranteed if we keep having him babysit, he'll leave home."

He might even go abroad.
"Hey honey, what's showing this weekend?"