One Leaf

Duncan and I spent a long moment this morning watching a single leaf, a brown and brittle hunchbacked thing as big as my palm with the fingers curled inward liked the hooked legs of a spider or a crab, crawl across the sidewalk. It moved slowly, taking tentative steps until the wind caught it and hurried it along at an awkward gallop. The Cottonwoods have been slow to change, as they were slow to bud last Spring, and just a week ago I remarked to Brady that it was almost as though they were the last of Summer's celebrants, still so green with full, tree-bound leaves swaying in the wind, a gentle chorus, so unlike clamor that accompanies the slightest shiver from all those who have fallen and scuttle and crunch underfoot each time they stir. Now, though, they are nearly bare, enormous clenched hands, rising dark against the blueness of the sky.

I have spent our afternoon walks trudging through the leaves, dragging my feet through them, making the most of their voices, taking what little joy there is to be had in their bodies, driving them before me like waves and dolphins before a ship. But watching that one leaf crab-walking across the sidewalk reminded me that there is life in even those things for which we have little use and are busy forgetting. It's walk and rush were feral and alien, but I stood transfixed and remembered that quote from American Beauty, the one I have used so often here: "[It] was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever."

Sometimes it's difficult to find the joy in this season, but if we remember that life does not end, that death and Autumn are an illusion, we can find great comfort in its beauty. Duncan knows this. He finds joy in every patch of grass, every twig and cast-off branch, every gust of wind, carrying the scents and flavors of the world to him. It's in watching his joy and delight in this suddenly barren world that I rediscover my own.

The Twenty-Five (or so): Another List

I have been tagged once again by my friend Kelly, from Property of Kelly, who now demands I list my Top 25 Movies. I don't really have a list of favorite movies in a set order, but I'll certainly give it a try.

• All About Eve* Joseph Mankiewicsz's writing is snappy and superb and the entire cast shines, especially Bette Davis. This film has some of the best lines ever written, bitter and brutal
• Sunset Boulevard* In my humble opinion, there is no finer performance recorded on film than the one provided by Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond. Every inflection, every twitch, every gesture is calculated and serves a purpose. Simply amazing
• Meet Me in St. Louis* This one is purely sentimental. The Christmas scenes near the end always make me cry. Judy Garland is wonderful, but the true winner in this film is little Margaret O'Brien, who won an Oscar for Best Juvenile Performance that year
• The Royale Tenenbaums I can't think of a finer ensemble cast. Each performance is stunning, the writing is clever and poetic and I love this film even though almost everyone I know is bored by it
• Until the End of the World A film about dreams and our culture's addiction to images, which become a kind of paralyzing disease. Beautifully filmed and directed with an international cast, this one is one I could watch over and over
• The Color Purple Sure it's manipulative and sentimental, but I think I have cried every time I've seen this film since I was 15 years old. It will always be a favorite
• Peter Pan Who wouldn't want to be a flying child who never grows up?!
• Bambi I was born to be a Bambi fan. I had no choice in the matter. My grandmother quilted my baby blanket with Bambi on it, took me to see the film and bought me the soundtrack. I have mighty memories of her and can not watch this movie without thinking of and missing her terribly
• Gone with the Wind* It's almost unbearably long, but this film is amazing and couldn't be a minute shorter. Vivian Leigh's performance, while a bit theatrical, is stunning. The grandiosity of the entire production is a marvel. I've watched three times this past year alone
• Magnolia Another one of those films in which people claim "nothing happens." If by nothing happening they mean the final fifteen minutes of the film when the most shocking and surreal thing I've ever seen occurs, sign me up for lots more "nothing."
• A Star is Born* "I was born in a trunk in the Princess Theater in Pocatello, Idaho..." This is a wonderful flim and the story of its restoration is just as intriguing. The FBI became involved and after nearly 70 years you still can't watch it in its entirety. This film became the film that inspired the world to preserve our celluloid history
• Boogie Nights This film is not about pornography so much as family, and with the 70's backdrop, a terrific ensemble cast and sharp directing by Paul Thomas Anderson I can't help but love it as much as I loved my Charlie's Angels lunch-box
• Fight Club This one had the poorest marketing campaign of any film I've seen. It's not about beating people senseless, it's about politics and society and should be required viewing for every college student in the country
• Brokeback Mountain Not because it's in the manual and I'm supposed to say that, but because it shows how truly fluid and ambiguous sexuality and love can be, even in the most unlikely of people
• Fiddler on the Roof A huge production with wonderful music, a great cast and "Tradition!" My sister and I used to watch this when we were kids, and had memorized my grandmother's soundtrack album by the time we'd entered elementary school
• Life is Beautiful A moving film that literally left me speechless for well over an hour after we left the theater. Ken, April and I were unable to speak without sobbing–not crying or sniffling, sobbing. This film is about courage and sacrifice and should be, I believe, watched by everyone
• Pulp Fiction No one does dialogue like Tarantino, except perhaps Mankiewicsz and no one delivers it better than Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman and Bruce Willis
• The Music Man All those trombones and a fun soundtrack make this one fun to watch and great to knit along with
• Moulin Rouge Another musical with a killer soundtrack and excellent performances by the entire cast. This was the film that made me finally like Nicole Kidman, who is far more talented than she's been given credit for
• Waiting for Guffman Christopher Guest and cast deliver an amazing improvised story of a small town putting on a show for a New York theater critic. I can't help but laugh almost all the way through
• Monty Python and Holy Grail I don't know of a funnier film. I memorized it during college and spent months doing little more than quoting it, recreating scenes with my friends, trying desperately to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen sparrow and saying "ni" until my mouth was bruised.
• Star Wars A New Hope Although its sequel, The Empire Strikes Back, is the best of the franchise, this is the film that made me fall in love with movie-making at the age of six. Every time I put it on I get goosebumps and remember what it was like to be a child and in awe of the universe and the magic of storytelling
• Rebel Without a Cause Not because of James Dean and his style of method acting, but because of the impact it had on film making and culture. It changed everything and gave teenagers a voice that still rings out in films such as Breakfast Club, Dazed and Confused and countless others
• Red River* The only Western I own. This was Monty Clift's first film. Cast against John Wayne he looks a bit like a wet puppy, but delivers the strongest performance in the film. And watching it it's fun to know that sometimes a gun is not always a gun
• This is Spinal Tap 'Nuff said
• American Beauty "Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in."

I think there's one extra in there, but who cares. It took far longer than I expected. If you haven't seen all of them, I strongly encourage you to do so. They're pretty good.

*As recommended by my good friend, and Movie Mentor, David, who has taught me more about movies than I'll ever remember and far less than he knows. Quite often David feels that when recommending movies to me he's casting "pearls before swine," but my life has been tremendously enriched by his efforts and would be quite empty without him. Thank you, sir! Don't give up hope and keep the lessons coming!

Walking Meditation

When I was in college at Lake Forest and looked forward to coming home for Christmas or summer break, I used to count my steps. There was a time I could tell you how many steps from the theater building on South Campus to my room in Deerpath Hall. I knew how many steps it took to walk to the beach or to Tim, my mentor's, office. My journal is filled with entries that said things like, "Five hundred steps to the train station today. How many steps 'til I'm home?" It brought me comfort and gave me something to look forward to, like marking off the days until Christmas. I forgot all about that until this afternoon when I realized I was going through the motions on my walk with Duncan. I hadn't been paying attention: I wasn't in the moment. I was asleep.

As much as Duncan may not like it, sometimes the walks aren't about him. Sometimes they're not even about me. Sometimes they're just about the walk and being awake.

It's easy to get used to the places we go, the people we see, even the sounds and sensations of our steps on the same sidewalks or the same soggy grass. It's easy to forget that the world is changing every moment and even though we've walked or driven or peddled the same route day after day, climbed the same stairs, parked in the same spot under that one precious, shade-yielding tree, that everything is different than the last time we were there.

The nights are cooler now–they have been for awhile. Even the days are cooler and the trees and grass are different every time I see them. The elms are done but don't know it; they hold on to their yellowing and browning leaves like houses hold on to ghosts. The grass isn't as soft, and it has a September sort of crunch to it under our feet. The people, still wearing shorts and t-shirts, have begun to tie sweaters around their waists, or they wear hoodies. They all look the same to me.

I don't want to go through my life a zombie, counting the days until the weekend and then Monday morning after that, or the hours left until I get to leave work. I want to absorb as much as I can, to not take anything for granted. It's a difficult task to stay awake and not switch over to autopilot. Sometimes you have to work hard to be present and notice the beauty all around you.

There's a line in American Beauty, one of my favorite films, that makes me weep for my old poet's eye: "It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it.... that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever... It helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in."

Who at the park today noticed the man and his grandson fishing from the bank where I sometimes let Dunc wade in after the ducks? Who stopped and spent ten minutes watching them cast and reel, cast and reel, the sun setting in front of them, the mountains and lake turning black before them? Will they even remember how thick the bugs were, or that the school marching band was practicing Tusk, that quintessential marching band song not a quarter of a mile away? Will this night fade for them or will they lock it up some place and keep it alive simply because they want to keep it alive?

I will remember this night because it was beautiful and made my heart want to cave in.