“Low”: Duvall’s New High

by Thomas M. Pender

As Hollywood clichés go, “the role of a lifetime” is among the top.  Still, as I was entrenched in the first third of the newly released DVD Get Low, the phrase kept echoing in my head.

Robert Duvall has had a very long and distinguished career.  Along the way, he has actually hit upon several “roles of a lifetime”!  From the enigmatic Boo Radley in To Kill A Mockingbird to Tom Hagen in The Godfather, Parts I and II to Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore in Apocalypse Now to his Oscar-winning role of Mac Sledge in Tender Mercies, Duvall has burned a trail of talent across the decades . . . and now, at the age of 80, Duvall gives us Felix Bush in Get Low.

Based on an age-old overtold tale, with no one left to know how much is true, Felix is a Tennessee hermit, self-exiled to his land, and almost never seen in the nearby town.  When he is, the townsfolk cross to the other side of the street, mothers hide their children’s eyes, and men spit at him.  It seems everybody (except the audience) knows about Felix . . . and it ain’t good.

Coming to the end of his life, or so he opines, Felix decides to throw himself a funeral.  He arranges with the local funeral home owners (who are dying for business, if you’ll pardon the easy pun) to arrange a giant gathering and raffle.  Tickets are sold, and the winner is to get Felix’s land, which is rich in timber, upon his actual death.

Among the folks interested in Felix’s new publicized “coming out” is a woman (Sissy [Coal Miner’s Daughter] Spacek) who seems to know who he was before he disappeared from society.  Also, a pastor from another state is asked twice to attend, first by Felix and then by the undertakers (played with deadpan charm by Bill [Caddyshack] Murray and Lucas [Friday Night Lights] Black).  The second time, he comes along.  Through the minister and the woman, we learn that Felix has something in his past to be ashamed of, that he’s never completely faced or conquered.  Eventually it seems that, one way or another, Felix means to come clean at the funeral party.

Laced with humor, Get Low remains a deep and touching character study.  As we learn about the man we don’t understand, we at times fear him, feel for him, pity him, and cheer him.  He is, as we each are, a complex human being, even when only a few characteristics show on the surface.  Remorse, regret and redemption come to the party, as well, and when the end credits appear, we finally feel that we have indeed met the man they call Felix Bush.

If you’re looking for action, sex, explosions and car chases, the cover art for Get Low (a simple shot of Bill Murray sitting and Robert Duvall standing in a field) will surely scare you away.  But if you want to see how intricate writing and subtle acting can truly bring a character to life, see Duvall’s latest triumph.  This “role of a lifetime” . . . no matter how many he’s had . . . is worth seeing!

One Perfect Day

by Thomas M. Pender

Freshman year at Michigan State was one of the greatest years of my life, full of new and rich experiences that I never would have encountered elsewhere.  I have many fond memories of that year.

And of that one day in April 1985. . . .

Spring term was fantastic.  After three months of shin- and knee-high snow, seeing my own breath day and night, and having to thaw out my nose after any simple walk, the mercury finally climbed, the coats disappeared . . . and the festivities began.  Most of my and my floormate cohorts’ winter festivities were limited to our dorm, so once the grass was revealed and growing, we hit campus!

One particular Friday morning, I awoke in a great mood.  I only had one early-morning class, and then it was officially the weekend.  My mood escalated when, exiting the shower, I heard a rarely-played favorite song on the radio.  This, I said to myself, is going to be a great day!

Upon my return, my fellow collegians who were smarter than I and didn’t have Friday classes were gathered in their traditional morning spot: Sitting on the floor outside of the dorm rooms at the end of the hall.  Here, cigarettes were smoked, beer was used as an awakening tool, and the mysteries of Life were discussed.  Ignoring the cigarettes and beer, I thoroughly enjoyed getting involved in the discussions.  From the basest human depravities to the deepest thoughts of holy men, the topics were a grab bag from the cosmos, and the sessions were never boring.

On this already good day, one of our floor demigods (meaning he was a sophomore!) sparked up in the middle of our musings.  Looking out the window at the bright spring day, he announced, “Let’s play whiffle ball!”

Being the deep-thinking scholars that we were, we instantly jumped up and got the tools for such a childish excursion together.  In under ten minutes, we were out in the courtyard between three dorms, divided into two teams, and enjoying our lives.  Our mannequin-torso mascot had been drafted into acting as our umpire, and with a Frisbee for a home plate, the game was on.  We played on and on for hours, until our stomachs told us it was time for lunch.

The early afternoon was spent plotting our adventures that evening, as there were plenty of gatherings that night being put on by the acquaintances of at least one of us.  As soon as day turned to near-dusk, we were off!  The first stop was at a higher floor in our 12-storey dormitory.

Here, we bumped into an adopted sister, “Holly with a Q.”  She mentioned that she had seen our whiffle ball World Series that morning, and produced a picture she had snapped out her window.  Past a bordering tree, home plate could clearly be seen.  There, our mannequin umpire viewed the game, my roommate Jeff was bent to retrieve a foul ball, and a stick-like figure stood in a half-shirt and shorts, celebrating his mock athletic prowess.  I still have this photo.  It is one of the best pictures of me in my skinniness, and a fond memento of the day!

Not being a party animal myself, but a standard fixture at each gathering, I enjoyed tagging along to each venue. Such jaunts gave me my first exposures to fraternity houses (which reeked of stale and spilled beer) and campus apartments.  In one such apartment, I was introduced by one of the hosts to a quintet of coeds in one corner of the room.  Shaking hands all around, the fifth young lady started a conversation by asking me about my floor name “Spike” and its origin.  During this talk, she maintained possession of my hand.

Alcohol be damned.  Now I, the teetotalling freshman, was having fun, too!

Unfortunately, my compadres were not sensitive to my golden moment.  Mere minutes later, they were ready to converge on the next target, and they waved me to the door.  Figuring this would be our last moment together, I turned to the charming young lady and said, “They’re taking me away from you.”

“Call me!”

Another moment frozen in time.  A girl wanted me to call her!  I loved college.

The rest of the night is a bit less sharply remembered, as I was spending my time trying to keep that girl’s name in my head, despite all the outer noises and distractions.  Against the odds of my limping memorization capabilities, I did actually remember her name.  We ended up going out twice in the weeks that followed.

Collapsing on my bunk late that night — or rather, early the next morning — I realized that I had a bit of foresight in me.  It had turned out to be an even better “good day” than I had predicted!

Leather Devils And Satin Angels (WKHS ‘84)

For some reason, thinking about fall got me thinking about high school the other day.  I wrote this “epic” poem in anticipation of my 10-year high school reunion.  Many wonderful and a few horrible things happened in and to Waterford-Kettering High School during the Class of 1984’s tenure there.  This is an attempt to capture the entire three-year adventure.

.

.

1

We can still feel the memories and

Taste our youth, and we still recall

The lightning that pulsed through

Our fingertips

.

2

What we remember sharpest is that

At a time when we felt we could

Do anything we pleased

We weren’t allowed to

Do anything at all

.

3

But we did some of it anyway

.

4

We knew far more than

Children should ever know

Because we were hungry

For Life and the Future

.

5

We found it hard to concentrate

On the textbooks we were given

To study

Because that wasn’t what we

Wanted to learn

.

6

We struggled to grow fast yet

Hesitated when we realized

That the Great Unknown

Waited for us at the end of

The runway

.

7

We hurt our throats and

Lungs on autumn nights in

Stands along the playing field where

We cheered for padded heroes

And goddesses with pom-poms

.

8

We never laughed so hard

Fought so furiously

Or felt so much

As we did in the days of

Our boundless youth

.

9

The leather devils of

Rock and Roll gave

Us a beat to run with

.

10

And the satin angels

Of Romance, Sex and Love

Gave us a story to live

Whether we were ready

Or not

.

11

We thought that hands which

Held tight also held strong

And kisses lasted

A lifetime and one hot night

.

12

Friends were a lifeline

That would never snap

And we didn’t know where

We were going to end up

But we knew it would be

Together

.

13

Friday Night was a religious experience

And Fun was a deity

Which we prayed to

Monday through Thursday

.

14

Our October queen was gorgeous

And our October king was drunk

And we spent one magic night

Showing the world that we were ready

For the good times to carry us all

Away

.

15

We braved the storms of sorrow

When a few young souls

Were taken too soon

But in the storms we learned

We had strength

And tears

And friends

.

16

We spoke a language all our own

Wore uniforms of style

And walked with pride

In the knowledge that no one

But no one

Was just like us

.

17

We rallied with heart

We campaigned with purpose

And we won much more than we lost

We saved a school

We proved our point

We got results

.

18

We elected Clowns, Brains and Jocks

And we each had a secret plan

To be Most Likely To Succeed

.

19

We ran the gauntlet of

Peer Pressure and earned

Membership into Cliques

Of all shapes and sizes

.

20

And when it came time to

Throw our caps in the air

The most ironic feelings

Of Beginning and Ending

Followed us home

.

21

Children with foresight went in

And initiated Adults with memories came out

And now that the age

We could never picture reaching

Lurks in the shadows

Of calendar pages

We gather again to find

We are old enough to bring

A new friend to the party:

Nostalgia

.

22

But no matter how many

Gray hairs we’ll ever gain

Or brown hairs we’ll ever lose

We will always have those

Personal snapshot memories

Of the time

We took on the World

Together

.

.

written by t. michael pender  11/23/93

copyright ©1993 T. Michael Pender.  All rights reserved.

T.G.I.S.!

by Thomas M. Pender

The phrase has been popular for decades, becoming known by only its initials and even spawning a 1978 disco-themed film.

“Thank God It’s Friday!”

Nine-to-fivers cheer this phrase from Friday morning until it’s time to punch out.  They spend Monday through Thursday waiting for Friday.  It’s far and away their favorite day of the week.

But why?

As with Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, the workforce at large must awake to a rude alarm, shower and dress while half-asleep, wrestle with rush-hour traffic both to and from work, stare at the clock, deal with co-workers and managers and clients, and generally wish they were somewhere else doing something else.  So how is Friday different from its four preceding days in any given week?

True, at the end of the day on Friday, the official weekend begins.  True, most folks do not have to set an alarm for the next morning, and can therefore plan on staying up later doing something fun on Friday night.  These are all wonderful qualities to have in a day of the week.

But now, let’s talk about Friday’s neighbor Saturday.  On Saturdays, you can generally do most anything you could do on Fridays, plus there is typically no alarm, no rush hour, no work, no bosses, and no punch clock.  There are usually eight more Saturday hours to yourself and your own personal ventures than there are Friday hours.  During the same hours of the day you would be at your Friday work post, you can be in a Saturday mall, park, movie theatre, beach, ski slope, . . . anywhere but punching a clock!

I nominate “T.G.I.S.” for the new happy-dance catchphrase.  In fact, it’s about time another film was made . . . and we won’t have to suffer a disco soundtrack, either!