My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 36: “ But if my spirit is lost How will I find what is near?”

Staying with my theme from yesterday, another somewhat obscure move that’s one of my favorites is My Dinner with Andre. This 1981 film, directed by Louis Malle, is comprised almost entirely of a dinner conversation between two real life friends, the actor and playwright, Wallace Shawn, and the actor and director, Andre Gregory. When I have told people through the years that this may be my favorite movie of all time, and described it, the usual reaction is incredulity, “How can they make a movie of that? How can you watch a movie like that?”

The driving force of the movie is the persona of Andre Gregory. In his labyrinthine story of the the last five years of his life after “disappearing” from the theater (partially based on reality and partially created for the film), Gregory recounts one bizarre, mind altering experience after another. The stories, often overlaid with supernatural (or hyper-natural) experiences, present a man who has let go of the mornings of conventional life and journeyed to find deeper meaning and a deeper reality, sometimes successfully and sometimes not.

Though the first half of the movie is presented almost as a monologue, punctuated only by occasional questions by the clearly overwhelmed Wally, during the second half, the slightly bumbling Wally (probably representing the viewer) gains his voice and argues with Andre for the simple joys of conventional life. This argument both challenges the thesis of the first half of the movie while giving time for Andre to further clarify and refine his arguments. Though neither side comes out as a clear winner, it is clear at the end that at least Wally has been affected, if not changed, by his dinner with Andre.

My relationship with this film goes back to the week in which it was first released. I remember where I saw it, whom I saw it with, and the conversation that followed. As a 22 year old person, who was feeling pretty sure about his world (not knowing how in a matter of months that world was going to be rocked in ways that I couldn’t imagine) I found Andre’s stories to be irritating, and his metaphysical dilettantism to be truly upsetting. I remember distinctly several moments of the film where I wanted to walk out, and only my friend encouraged me to stay until the end.

So what has changed in the past 40 years? I have not become more open to supernatural occurrences or metaphysical events, though I do think I am far less interested in challenging them. I have watched the film several times through the years, and each time I found Andre’s story less jarring and admired more the totality of the film. In presenting a conversation that so few of us have, Malle helped guide us through the mature examination of life and its meaning that we, with our heads down in relentless pursuit of mediocrity, to seldom do.

I’ve been thinking about thIs film during this time and rewatched several scenes yesterday. During this time of not moving forward, watching a truly thoughtful conversation might help us to move inward and to confront those questions which every actor is taught to ask: Who am I? Why am I here? Where did I come from? Where am I going?

Here is a scene from the end of the film for you to enjoy, but watch the whole movie. You have time.

Be safe, be strong.

My Journal if a COVID-19 Year, Day 35: “I’m wearin’ a Fur Pyjamas I ride a Hot Potata’”

Today is a gift for minds bogged down with far too much of the ordinary. In 1986, David Byrne, of Talking Heads fame, released an amazing movie called True Stories, which has remained one of my favorite movies of all time. The film is essentially an anthology of stories in a loosely tied narrative about the people of Virgil, Texas who are in the midst of the town-wide “Celebration of Specialness” to mark the towns 150th anniversary. Byrne acts a a narrator who is visiting the town and learning of its true specialness. The various scenes from town, culminating in the talent show that is the capstone of the celebration, all provide commentary of various aspects of modern life, to the soundtrack of Talking Heads music. Though the entire story is filled with wild characters in surreal situations, there is a recognition of our life and ourselves in these residents.

Byrne is joined by a number of well-known actors including John Goodman, Spaulding Grey, and Swoosie Kurtz, each playing one of the slightly askew townspeople. One bit of trivia I discovered when preparing to write this today is that one of the writers was Stephen Tobolowski, probably best know as Ned Ryerson in the movie Groundhog Day!

A favorite scene is a fashion show that takes place in the town mall as part of the celebration. While the “fashion” ranges from the truly mundane to the insane, the seriousness with which it is conducted, and the commentary of the hostess, bring into focus our own sense and conventions of fashion beauty, and comfort.

Enjoy this scene and watch the full movie if you have a chance.

Be safe, be strong.

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 34: “I get on my knees and pray, we won’t be fooled again”

I was chatting with a cross-country friend this morning, and when I asked what she was doing, she said that she and her kids were waiting for online mass. This frankly shocked me, and my question was, “I thought mass was on-demand, not live-streamed.” So after our talk, I decided to do a little Sunday snooping into the world of on-line Sunday liturgy.

First of all, by way of disclaimer (if it wasn’t apparent by the introduction) I have yet to “attend” an on-line mass. Given my somewhat nebulous relationship with “analog” masses, I certainly wasn’t missing it, and I figured that I would spend most of the time texting or purchasing things from Amazon. But the joy of at home attendance is that I can duck in, take a quick look, and duck out without disturbing the congregants.

It does appear that there are two divergent approaches to webcasting the liturgy. Most parish sites that I checked out posted a video of mass that was clearly shot earlier, and this video remains on the site all day and for the following days. Most of these videos appeared to be “one take” single or multi camera productions, though there was some evidence of editing in one (one might picture a director shouting, “Cut! Let’s take it from the consecration again!”). A few parishes are offering a live feed of mass, which I assume is archived and available later in the day. I’m sure the philosophy of this second approach is to capture the immediacy of the event and to maintain the illusion of routine. I must say that I had a great deal of difficulty with the “live feed” sites. I could see why people might get irritated and switch over to a pre-recorded site.

Which brings to another point. Parish identity has been dying, particularly in urban areas, for years. Most families have a variety of local church schedules posted on the refrigerator to make a weekly choice. This choice has now become even simpler as the viewer (participant) can quickly scroll through the available services to find the best music, prayer, and preaching. Instead of “Oh, darn, it’s Father Blank!” it is a simple switch to move to the next channel to other parishes in the diocese, in the country, or in the world. One also wonders how often (at least for the video sites) attendees are hitting the fast forward button. I’m sure that this is discouraged, but what Father can’t see…

In the few masses that I sampled, I was struck by how conventional they are. The usual parts of Sunday liturgy including congregational singing, inviting people to greet each other (one place encouraged attendees to text greetings to their friends), and the regular parts of mass all are done in the usual places and ways. I’m not suggesting that churches should be employing CGI to have dramatic effects, but there is an awkwardness and emptiness to watching what is meant to be a live performance on tape. It’s like watching a video of a stage play. Somehow it just feels wrong, or watching late night comedians broadcasting from their homes and pausing during the monolog for unheard laughs. It just feels needy.

Now, some of my more theologically inclined friends might say that this is the point, that we should feel bad that we can’t be together and liturgy without a congregation should feel incomplete. OK, then maybe we should be doing something else.

Be safe, be strong.

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 33: “In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears”

I think the bedroom suite of my new condo sold me on this place as much as anything else. It is on the bottom floor, so it truly feels each evening like I am going down into my own private retreat. The room is large, and it is attached by a large dressing area and master bath. There are two closets, and the laundry room is just off the bedroom for easy access. Best of all there is a walk out patio that is right beside a little creek that I can hear at night when I leave the sliding door open.

I like that this space is only mine, and that guests who come to visit (assuming we ever have guests to visit again) will be entertained on the top two floors, so there is a clear distinction between private and public spaces.

Be safe, be strong.

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 32: “When the dog bites, when the bee stings”

Five essential “world navigation” factors that I would not have understood three ( or even two) months ago.

1. When I wear my mask, my glasses fog up. I tried adjusting the straps, but it seems to be a feature, not a bug, of this system. It is much worse when it’s cold out, but they fog up pretty much all the time. This leaves me with a dilemma. I can put up with it and wait for them to clear after each breath or try to breathe very slowly so that the fogging is reduced, or I can take my glasses off and see a little less clearly while exposing my eyes to potential exposure.

Another issue with the mask is the inability to smile at someone. I have needed to develop my Tyra Banks “smizing” (smiling with the eyes), but I don’t know if this comes off as friendly or deranged.

2. When I buy produce in the store, there is no way to open the little plastic bags produce bags. In best of times this is a pain as one struggles to find the correct end to open and then usually needs to lick one’s fingers to finally pry it apart. Now try the same using gloves! I have opted for pre-packaged vegetables and fruits as much as possible.

3. When someone drifts within 4′ of me, I have to suppress the urge to scream. Once again I see this often on the rare occasions when I go to the supermarket. People are so well behaved standing in line 6′ apart waiting to get in and again while waiting in line for the checkstand. However, moving through the aisles, too many people seem to believe that movement protects them from infection, as if the germs cannot jump from one moving body to another, no matter how closely they pass.

4. When I take my nightly walk around the block, I have developed a subtle, but complex set of signals to tell oncoming pedestrians that I’m going to move into the street. I always work with the assumption that I’ll go into the street, because the streetwalker (hmmm never thought I’d call myself that) has the greater control of distance. Through nodding of my head to actual pointing, I always try to the let the other person know my intentions early so we don’t have the awkward street side tango.

5. I am extremely grateful for the women and men who work at stores and the pickup and drive through windows at restaurants. On the few occasions when I have gone, I find myself being artificially cheery and effusive in my thanks (a friend suggested that we conclude each transaction with “Thank you for your service”). Not saying this is a bad thing…just something I’ve noticed.

One more, as I’m writing this I’m hearing a siren of a fire truck or ambulance. I can’t hear this sound without wondering whether they are being called to transport a COVID patient to the hospital.

Be safe, be strong!

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 30: “Thanks for the Memories”

I was a bit worried that today would be the first day with no idea for a post, and it’s only been a couple of days since my last home picture and I wanted to spread them out. So I was worried that I’d have nothing to talk about until I went down to the mail and found a wonderful (and welcome) package.

I have been lucky to teach nearly 2000 students during my years as a high school teacher. In the years since I have run into students in various places (I even had one turn up in a focus group I was interviewing in Salt Lake City last fall). It is always nice to see them and to look into their faces to see the person inside that they once were. However, I have been lucky enough to have a very few great people stay in my life and make that delicate jump from student to friend. One of these is Annie, who lives in Hawaii with her wonderful husband. She splits her time between her job as a psychological counselor and her avocation of making quilts. I’ve been able to visit her a few times when on the Island, and she sent me a quilt when I moved into a new place a few years ago. I’m extremely proud of all that she has accomplished and the person she is today.

This week she reached out and asked if I had enough masks, since she was making masks from quilting fabric. This was timed perfectly, as I was just reflecting that the selfish hoarders in the area have bought up all the masks, so people like me don’t have one and thus their exposure is greater. I did wear my “Jessie James” bandana whenever I went out, but I’m not certain how effective this is. Today the masks arrived, and they are wonderful and beautiful…one even has a bicycle pattern! I will wear them with pride, remembering every time the wonderful connections in life.

Be safe, be strong.

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year Day 29: “ This is the craziest party That there ever could be”

In these days of lockdown, many people have developed an even closer relationship with their television sets and particularly with the services of Netflix and Amazon Prime. When I’ve asked what people have been watching, occasionally I hear about a movie, but more likely I will hear about a limited or extended series that they are binge watching.

When did streaming services move from primarily being a source for movies and being a venue for rerun and original series? I watch very few movies on the streaming services any more, partially because it’s hard to find good movies consistently, and more because there is something very reassuring about watching episodic shows (even if I watch all the episodes in one sitting).

I think this comes down to three things that are particularly important to us right now. First, and most obviously is time. We have loads of it, and it a 11/2 hour to 3 hour movie just doesn’t cover enough. An 8 episode series (assuming just one season) can take between 8-16 hours to watch. That’s practically a day. Second, I believe that we enjoy the consistency of characters and setting. Even in a highly dramatic and violent show where vital characters appear and disappear, there are always lynchpins to hold the viewer and to carry from episode to episode. Finally, though there ware exceptions, episodic TV is often not as intense as a one-shot movie. There may be the cumulative intensity over the course of the season, but to have that spread over numbers of episodes can blunt its force in a time when we need it. In a word, there is a reassurance to the form that isn’t present in a traditional movie.

Whether you are watching Ozark, Tiger King, or Shitts Creek, I hope there will continue being another episode to ferry you through another hour toward our eventual release.

Be safe, be strong

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 28, “ “A Cup Of Coffee, A Sandwich And You”

When I envisioned my new place, long before I even started looking, one of the givens was that it had to be a great entertaining space. One thing I have missed greatly in the past few years is having people over for dinner. My mother was an amazing entertainer, and though I have not inherited all of her culinary skill, her hospitality gene is strongly in me.

This is the dining room. It it immediately up the half-stair from the living room and next to the kitchen. There is a nice pass through window between the kitchen and dining area, and I purchased the nice grey cabinet that is beside the table from the previous owners to serve as a side table. My table holds six comfortably, and the table originally had a leaf, so I’m wondering if I might figure out a way to fit something in the space so I could go up to eight or ten. I love that the dining area is clearly distinct from the living room, so my guests can have drinks and appetizers downstairs and then come up for dinner.

I can’t wait to have people over…or people anywhere!

Be safe, be strong!

My Journal of a COVID-19 Year, Day 27: “You’re a part of me. I’m a part of you.”

Sometimes I start to type the heading for the blogpost with no real idea of what I am going to write. This was one of those days, but luckily the blog fairy sprinkled magic on me. For today when I typed in the blogpost title, I noticed something new. As I started to key in COVID, after two letters, the properly-capitalized word appeared in the auto correct pane of my iPad.

I don’t know how words enter the autocorrect dictionary. Perhaps the software registers a certain number of uses and then adds it, or perhaps these changes are sent down from on high from our Apple overlords. When I type DH, I get the option of DHUYVETTER, which would argue for the first option. However, a friend pointed out the the term Coronavirus is also in autocorrect now, and I have seldom, if ever, used that term. So it is likely that this adaptive dictionary has both AI abilities as well as remote editing from a central intelligence.

How does a word become part of our world? Can you remember the first time you heard the word Coronavirus? Depending on your circles and how widely you read, this was probably January or February (of course Coronavirus has existed in many strains for many years…as most of us know…now). It sounded remote and with the exception of a humorous connection to beer, very separate from us. When did the term Coronavirus become switched with the more technically correct COVID-19? Was this tied to the arrival in the west, when a vague illness, primarily in Asia, was now a very specific danger to us? I started typing COVID-19 in the title of this blog on March 18, 2020, and I believe today is the first time I saw it in Autocorrect. The extraordinary has become commonplace, and my iPad (and I suspect Apple) believes that it is a term that will be with us for a long time.

Be safe, be strong.