Sunday Afternoon

We are having a rare moment of stillness here this afternoon. There's nowhere for us to go, nothing that absolutely must be done before tomorrow, no child in need, no crisis to avert. For now. So I'm taking a minute to write.

Our cat is gone. Early this week Charlie walked out the door in his usual aloof, lumbering fashion and then . . . just never came back. We don't know what's become of him. He's never been gone for more than twelve hours at a time, and he's certainly never missed a meal. We've looked on every roadside, put up fliers at the Casey's and the post office, called the pound, called pet rescue, asked our neighbors, wandered around in the dark with a flashlight investigating every dark corner of the yard where he liked to hide while calling his stupid name over and over again - to no avail. He's just gone. We figure he was either taken -- someone saw a big, good looking cat with no tags (our bad) and thought, "Hey, free cat" -- or a coyote got him. There's just no sign of him and it sucks. We've had him for almost as long as we've had Parker and, while he was aloof and bulimic and annoying as heck at times, it distresses me that he's gone. It distresses me more that I don't know where or why. If he had been hit by a car, at least I'd know what happened to him. If he'd turned up hurt after a fight with another animal, at least I'd know. Not knowing is lame.

In other news, I'm re-thinking my position on people's busy-ness. I've been pretty hard on and judgemental of other people and their claims of being "too busy" to do this or that. I'm not saying I've changed my mind entirely and that I don't think some people use it as a crutch. I am saying that maybe there are more legitimate cases of really being too busy than I thought. This semester is shaping up to be a Kraken-sized beast. It seems we are constantly hustling from one place to another, stuffing things in the girls' backpacks as we go. Moments to just sit and contemplate are few and far between. Last week, a colleague at work asked me to edit a document for a committee we share. I said yes and then, six hours later, wrote back and begged off because I realized that I simply would not have the time to do the job any kind of justice. I'm too busy. Crap. If there's one thing I hate about my own judgmental nature, it's how it comes back on me in poetic, ironic ways. Sigh.

Also, speaking of committees, the diversity team at my school (yes, we have a team for that) asked me to speak at a brown bag discussion this week about Mormonism. Some of you may remember that I did this three years ago and I was all freaked out about it. As I recall, it went okay back then - but back then, we didn't have a Mormon running for President or Brian Williams flashing pictures of people in their temple garments on national television. So I'm not sure how or even if this will be different than last time. If you would though, say a little prayer for me or meditate in my direction or light candles or whatever it is that you do this Wednesday morning at 10 - not so I'll convert thousands but so I won't make a total jackass out of myself in front of colleagues and students. Whether you are Mormon or not, dear reader, isn't Mark not looking like an idiot a cause we can all get behind?

Yesterday was Avery Jane's tenth birthday. It's hard to see the scrawny, rubber-legged little chicken of ten years ago in the tall, beautiful, sometimes smart mouthed ten year old that is reading this over my shoulder as I write. But that's okay. I love how tall and smart and fun and enthusiastic and capable she is and I wouldn't trade her for anything. (She is punching me in the back right now saying, "Erase it, Dad!" But I will not.)

Anyway, as part of her festivities, we went to see The Odd Life of Timothy Green at the theater. I had no interest in it as it looked like a sappy, not terribly well acted cheese-fest. Suzy was supposed to take the two older ones but, in the end, I got the job. I wasn't upset because, for me, a bad night at the movies is still better than a good day at work, you know? Anyhow, I was surprised to find the movie was directed by Peter Hedges who also wrote and directed Dan in Real Life and Pieces of April, two films I like quite a lot. Dan in Real Life, while idealized and sentimental in many ways, is a lovely, funny film with nuanced performances and a wonderful sense of generosity and love. Pieces of April, which I haven't seen in years, was quite touching in the way it addressed the rifts that can grow in families. Both films walk the line between sentiment and sentimentality, between emotion and manipulation, but both manage to stay on the right side of that line.

Timothy Green is not so lucky. There are some moments so contrived and affected that even the kids in the audience were rolling their eyes. A lot of it seemed artlessly engineered to convey "quirkiness" and designed to pull on something the people in marketing refer to as "heart strings." It's about a subject that is close to my heart which is a couple's inability to conceive a biological child. On the day they get the final word from their fertility specialist that it might be time for them to stop trying that way and to think of other ways to have a family, in an evening of despair, they spell out every trait they think their ideal child would have if only they were able to have one. They list everything off and then bury the list in a box in their garden as a way of saying goodbye to those particular dreams. Magic rain comes and up from the garden sprouts a ten year old boy with all the traits they hoped for. And he has leaves on ankles because he grows from the garden and so, is part plant apparently.

Whimsicality ensues.

On the one hand, because I'm easily moved when it comes to this subject, there were moments when I felt touched, when I felt the movie had struck on something honest about the desires and fears parents have - how badly you want a kid and then, when you get one (however you get one), how hard it is to be the kind of parent that you feel is worthy of the child you have.

But then, on the other hand, there are moments when Jennifer Garner, her husband, and Timothy Green perform an A Capella version of "Low Rider" in front of a bunch of judgmental, stiff squares who can't see how totally awesome and whimsical and magic they totally are!!!! It's bad, folks. Real bad.

At one point, Diane Wiest, who plays the crusty, stuffy dowager empress character usually reserved for Shirley Maclaine, actually says, "If this boy can have leaves on his legs, then we can make pencils from leaves!" The thing is, even if I were to explain the context of that quote, it still wouldn't make sense.

The film can't decide what it wants to be and there's so much stuffed into 104 minutes that none of it gets its due. It's part magical realism, part coming-of-age love story, part Norma Rae, part frame tale, part "my dad never loved me enough drama," part comedy, part melancholic mediation on childlessness, and so on. Characters are painted in strokes as broad as a four lane interstate and Timothy's magical perfection becomes too much crutch and not enough performance. Still, sucker that I am, the final shots of the couple (spoiler alert!) meeting and literally walking into the sunset with their newly adopted child got me in the heart. I may be able to recognize the movie isn't that good -- but I'm not a monster, people.

Some of Hedges' obsessions are present. He seriously  loves himself some fall colors, some turn of the century houses, crippled adult child/parent relationships, sweet perfect grandparent figures, acoustic music, and wise children leading hapless adults too wrapped up in themselves to clearly see the simplicity of the path in front of them. It definitely fits within his body of work - it's just not as good as the others.

One other thought before I stop talking about this movie that I never intended to see in the first place: for making her career playing a deadly, sexy super spy, Jennifer Garner generally reminds me of someone who would be the student body president at some ultra-wholesome high school. Her double-decker bus of a mouth is just too giant and toothy and her demeanor is just too cutesy-poo for me to ever take very seriously as an actress.

Anyway, it's about five in the afternoon now. I think everyone's post-church nap should probably come to an end. Otherwise, there will be no sleep in this house tonight, and we can't have that.