I had always known the Oscars were political, but my convictions grew to the size of Mt. Everest last night.
This year there were more actors of color nominated for awards than ever before. Why? Because public opinion had made a stink.
Why standing ovations for those of color who won? I think it was a way of assuaging collective guilt for only honoring white actors over the years.
It was good for their collective soul that they had a major blunder at the end. It revealed how choreographed and scripted the evening was, everyone on automatic, with no one paying attention to the details. It also humbled them, made them a little more like us.
The comment that gagged in my throat was Ms. Davis’ that “actors are the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life.” What? You mean playing someone you’re not and have never been is the only way to live life? Really?
Calvin says, “She was in LA LA Land, didn’t you know?”
I spent the week in Oregon gawking at the trees wearing their fall fashion colors.
One was more beautiful than the other.
The palette went from reds, pinks and beige to oranges, yellows and sage greens.
I enjoy walking under the trees and looking up. The experience is so beautiful it hurts. I’m enveloped in color, but it’s more than that. It’s as if the tree itself is apprehending me and all my senses are being acted upon, whispering its message.
I call it a porthole to heaven, a sample of what’s to come. And it creates a longing for more.
The experience lasts and gains strength, even as I reflect back on it later on. I am gripped by it. It wrenches me away from myself. It forces me to pay attention to the clues all around me that point to another place, just beyond my reach.
Calvin says, “Oh brother, you’re waxing too philosophical for me. Those trees are there for peeing, for telling the world I was there.”
The Olympics are over. I’m going to miss them.
It was something to look forward to every night. Especially the weekends when television programs are notoriously bad.
Television producers should take note of the Olympic events: they had drama, tension, suspense, tears, and happiness, all under fifteen minutes. The gamut of human emotions was on display for the world to see and react to. There were successes and failures. Highs and lows. Every event had its moment. And as a spectator, you lived through them with the athletes.
London did a smashing job as host. Granted it cost them $14.5 billion to pull it off.
I always ask where does a host country get that kind of money when they can’t seem to do a very good job of taking care of their domestic affairs?
And here I thought Europe was in a financial crisis with the euro. Apparently not in London.
Did Queen Elizabeth use some of her stashed cash under her mattress at Balmoral Castle?
Did Prince Phillip sell a few gold bricks?
Maybe the newlyweds the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge sold some of their wedding loot.
The question of where the money came from eludes me completely.
But the bigger question that stumps me is this: what is London going to do now with the new stadiums, race courses, and buildings that were build specifically for the Olympics? Who pays for their upkeep?
Calvin says, “I spotted the Queen in her bloomers warming up for a game of beach volleyball at the Horse Guards Parade.”