My friend Rob Hedden, who I've occasionally mentioned here (often for his deep, abiding love of squirrels...) wrote and directed a movie called You May Not Kiss the Bride. The movie had a nice cast, starring Dave Annable and Katherine McPhee, with a supporting cast of Kathy Bates, Tia Carrere, Rob Schneider, Mena Suvari, Vinnie Jones and Stephen Tobolowsky. The story mostly takes place in Tahiti, and at one point in the film, Rob wanted to have a South Seas-type song to play. There was a piece of music they wanted, but couldn’t get the rights. They ended up getting an original song instead – and the story about how it came about is fascinating. I’d never heard the story, but it came up the other day when Rob was telling me about a family trip he’s about to take to Tahiti, and mentioned the song they got, called “Te Mama Tahiti.” It's a very good song, and it’s remarkable who wrote and recorded it (under a pseudonym), and how it came about. I don’t want to give it away, but here’s a link to the song. Listen to it (at least for a minute, so you can get a sense of it) before I tell you who did this for the movie, which I’ll explain below. Though you might want to listen to the whole thing. It's not that this was done for Rob's movie -- I honestly really like it, and I never would have guessed the artist who wrote and recorded it for them. Okay, the person who wrote this song, arranged it, sang the lead, sang all the background vocals and also played the music for my friend Rob Hedden to use in his movie was --- Rob Hedden! I knew that Rob wrote and sang music. He had a fun, goofy band for a while, Quayton and the Maxiwhackers. But when he sent me this song, I had no idea it was him. About half-way through, I did begin to suspect it might be him singing the lead – but I didn’t think he was all the background vocals (especially since at a few points it sounded like a woman singing, and wasn’t completely sure that he wrote it, or arranged it. The fun story to it is that after the production couldn’t get the rights to the song they wanted, Rob wrote, arranged and did this – but didn’t tell the producers it was all him. He just said that he had a friend who did this and would give it to them for free. (He said the producers really liked the song…but they especially loved that it was free!!) After the producers said that they liked it and agreed that it should be in the movie, only then did Rob tell them that it was all him. And he said that they didn’t believe him! He had to keep trying to convince them, until they did. By the way, the words are all gibberish. They’re real Tahitian words, but don’t mean anything. Which Rob (who is incredibly self-effacing) said is perfect for him. I honestly like the song, a lot. I’ve listened to it at least a dozen times. And I should append one thing I mention above – though it takes place in Tahiti, the movie was filmed in Hawaii. And if you want to see the trailer (it does a reasonable job), here’s the link – Okay, and just because we're honoring Rob today, what the heck, just for the pleasure of the good fellow, here's another squirrel video.
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If you missed Last Week Tonight with John Oliver on Sunday, the Main Story was about UFOs. Yes, really. As you might imagine, this lent itself to a great deal of humor. That said, the focus was serious, dealing with the question of whether investigations into the issue have been substantive enough. While I agree with that point, I also think there have been some investigations that have more substantive that the show suggests. Regardless, it's a very entertaining piece. This is also where I again get to point out that when Oliver mentions (much too off-handedly, I believe, as just a name on a list...) the Army's Project Blue Book, I had an astronomy class at Northwestern taught by J. Allen Hynek -- who had been the civilian head of the project. The class was not about that, though he did devote two days to the subject. (Hynek was also the technical adviser on Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Spielberg even gives him a cameo close-up on the movie. It's in the final sequence when all the scientists are gathered in a semi-circle, and previously-abducted humans leave the ship. One of the scientists -- who looks exactly like an astronomer with with a gray goatee -- weaves his way through the crowd, steps forward, takes out his pipe, and gets a closer look. That's Dr. Hynek.) Three things I remember from the two days of UFO classes: One is that when he got a sense that the project was going to be closed down, Hynek made copies of material to take home so that he could later continue research on his own. A second thing is that he said that Project Blue Book was not allowed to be shut down until all cases were classified -- the problem for the government was that there were many still-open cases. So, what they did was classify those cases as "unidentified" and therefore could close down the project. And the third thing is that Hynek said he never came across a case that convinced him the UFO sightings were aliens -- but -- he said it is ludicrous to think that we are the only living beings in the universe. He said a whole lot more on the subject, as well as on astronomy in general, but after all this time, that's all I've got... And as a bonus -- I actually tracked down Dr. Hynek's scene, in Close Encounters of the Third Kind!! I'm sure there have been many people who've watched the movie of the years who have wondered, "Gee, that's a weird shot of just one guy pushing his way through, what is the point of that??!" Well -- now you know the point. Yesterday, O.J. Simpson died, and it was covered widely across the news. As I've mentioned here, I worked on the Naked Gun movies, in which he appeared, so I figured I should write something . Though I wasn't terribly anxious to. That's because they were among the most joyous work experiences I've ever had, and some of my fondest memories. (As I've noted previously, they even stuck me in couple of the films as butts of jokes.) And the trial and whole situation just sucked the joy out of that. It became so difficult to watch those movies for me, and even think about the work. Enough time has passed, so that the situation isn't as bad as all that any more -- but it's still achingly sad. And I'm not even remotely involved in what actually is sad about it, just tangentially from afar.
However, I did write about the subject a least somewhat here a decade ago when the mini-series The People vs. O.J. Simpson was on TV. I didn't have any interest in watching it, though did decide to add some thoughts. And I figured I could just repost much of what I wrote back then, with a few tweaks and minor additions, rather than go through it all again. As I wrote -- when the real court trial was on, and so many people in the country were mesmerized by it all, the public glued in front of the TV, and it was the Conversation Topic of the Day for months, I just didn't watch any of it either. Maybe a couple minutes total, but that's all. I didn't watch the "Dancing Ito" sketches on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. There was absolutely nothing "fun" about it for me. It was just so profoundly sad on every conceivable level. In no way is my reaction meant as "O woe is me." Not even remotely. I'm a far-distant bystander. My point is merely how deep the tragedy went. And how much it impacted, beyond the attention-grabbing value, beyond what is so obvious and so gut-wrenching to those who it actually, literally pummeled . During the whole period, people would ask me, "You worked with O.J., do you think he did it?" I could only stare at them and say that I had no earthly idea. I got along fine with him, he wasn't someone I'd want to become friends with because he was involved in so many projects, always busy flying around, and somewhat distant, but, no, he didn't strike me as a mass mass murder. Did he do it? How on earth would I know? Beyond that, I really didn't talk about things connected to the trial. I, of course, crossed paths with O.J. a bit. It was part of the job, notably have to get information for the press kit I was writing. But I'm not sure he even knew my name. I think it was something like, "Hey, man." Not because it was me, I don't think he bothered to learn pretty much anyone's name, other than those at the top. We only had two extended conversations: one in his trailer, dealing with the press kit, and one sitting on the set, which oddly dealt with his family. At one point, he brought up how his wife seemed to want to get together, but that wasn't anything he was interested in. Whether his story was true, I have no idea. But that was the conversation. It hasn't aged well with time. The only thing I ever really commented about the trial was my observation whenever I'd hear people debating O.J. Simpson's innocence or guilt, and there would be people almost gleefully proclaiming his innocence, based purely on the reputation of the Los Angeles police department and its poor history with racial matters. To be clear, my reaction wasn't about these people's opinion -- I completely understood it, and the gross unfairness of the judicial system and well-publicized transgressions of the L.A. police -- but it was their near-mirth and utter certainty defending him and hope that O.J. got off. My thought at such moments was always a simple question: "Would you feel the same if the person killed was your sister?" One day, I mentioned this to a friend of mine. A few weeks later, he called to tell me he had been with a crowd of people, all of who were "rooting" for O.J., certain he had been railroaded and hoped he was acquitted. He said that he brought up my question -- and it stopped the conversation cold. Absolute, total silence. The mirthful certainty, the aggressive desire for acquittal completely disappeared. Again, to reiterate, I have no idea if he was innocent or guilty, though I have my opinion. It's just that one's thought on the subject should be based on the facts, whether believing him innocent or guilty. Having said all this, there was one personal thing that did ever so lightly touch me and was such a shame. It's that I'd become friendly over the two movies with O.J.'s assistant, an absolutely lovely, wonderful lady. She'd been with him for many years, and was totally devoted to him and her job. I only heard her name mentioned a few times in the news, but I'm sure if I paid closer attention I'd have heard it more. Though she of course wasn't directly involved in the tragedy, I knew that her life was devastated, and what she'd seen as a lifetime career was over, and it was heart-breaking to me. I did try to reach out to her at one point, letting a little time pass into the case. But I never reached her -- I left a phone message of support, but I'm sure she stopped answering her phone, and I wouldn't be surprised if she even stopped listening to her messages. I miss being in touch with her. Really nice lady. There was also one big laugh that did come from it all. I was working on another movie with much of the same team that make the Naked Gun films when the verdict came down. As you might imagine, the production stopped as the announcement neared. And when "innocent" was announced...well, I'll just say that when you're sitting around comedy writers who know the people involved really well, the phrase "gallows humor" was never more apt. Also, I have kept the one "keepsake" I have of the time. During those days, O.J. was involved in many businesses, one of which is that he was on the board of directors for the company that made Swiss Army watches. He had one, and I commented how great I thought it was. He reached into his gym bag (and no, I doubt it's that one, I'm certain he had many), and he grabbed a box with a new watch, which he gave me. For all the connections the case holds in my mind, I've held on to the Swiss Army watch. I like it too much. And still use it on occasion. And as that watch ticks away, time passes. (Thus endeth the poetic portion of this article...) And I watch the movies, and enjoy them. And I enjoy thinking about the work and talking about it. But the films, while wonderfully funny, still aren't as innocently funny to me as once, and the memories still can't help have a shading. But happily, so many of those memories are great. So, while I did go on length here about the experience, I leave more detailed analysis of the crime and trial to others. Me, I'll stick with the movies. This is my annual tale about what was sort of a national holiday in our house. Especially for one member. For the rest of us, we were pretty much on our own and had to duck and cover. My mother, Betty Lou, loved April Fools jokes. This may not seem like a big deal, except that she didn't really have a sense of humor. I don't mean that she wasn't funny or didn't want to like jokes. Just that she didn't have a "sense" of them. Like some people don't have a sense of taste or a sense of smell. She just didn't seem to get humor all that well. I can only remember her telling two jokes, although they were really more off-handed quips. Watching a comedy with her was an experience, regularly interrupted with, "What did he say?" and "Why is that funny?" and "What are they laughing about?" She liked comedy. She liked humor. She just didn't particularly get it. But she loved April Fools Day. Just absolutely freaking loved it. Lived for it. She loved getting people, mostly her family, but even friends weren't immune. Often elaborate jokes that she set up. And the thing is, we all knew it was coming. How could we not? She did it every year. But she was so good at it that she still got you. And my poor dad got the brunt of it, because in later years, when we not only were expecting it, but were heavily on our guard, my mom decided that she'd better get my dad before he had a chance to realize it was April Fools Day. So, by the time they hit their late 70s, she'd pummel the guy with an April Fools Day joke usually before he'd even gotten out of bed. But she was prepared that early. She had her April Fools Day joke ready to go, first thing in the morning. Hey, the early bird catches the poor sap, that sort of thing. It was an art form to her. There were rules to an April Fools joke, for her. It couldn't be hurtful, that rule was at its core. But the main rule was - "An April Fools joke must be something that's bad, so that when the person discovers it's just a joke, they will be relieved and happy and laugh." If you do it the other way - set up something great, and then pull the rug out - nope, that's no good. Because then the person will be disappointed that something they were looking forward to didn't happy. Besides the fact that she had only told two quips in her life and didn't have a "sense" of humor, what made my mother's love of April Fools joke so profoundly unlikely was that she was the most unassuming person to pull pranks. She was a tiny, Midwestern woman. About 5'2" and maybe 90 pounds. Soft-spoken and sweet as the day is long. (A cousin once told me that my mother was one of the two nicest people she ever knew. The other was my grandmother - who was my mother's mother, so clearly she came from good "nice" stock. And to be clear, this grandmother - Grandma Rose - was on the other side of the family from my cousin, and not a relative. Just a pure, nice person. So, my mother learned well.) Also, she hated anything risqué. It didn't have to be crude, just something mild would do. "Oh, why did he have to say that?" was a typical question when watching a movie, or hearing a comedian say something as simple as "damn." On top of all that, she was frail - seriously frail. She had polio, a stroke, macular degeneration, and then the polio returned later in her life as "post-polio." And she never complained. Ever. It was just a part of life, and you went on.
This then was the woman who lived for April Fools Day. If you saw her on the street, you would never expect it of her. And yet she always got you. Even when you did expect it. Okay, so she played April Fool's jokes. People do that, they play April Fools jokes. They say something, get you, and shout "April Fools!" Nope, that's not what I'm talking about. Like I said, to my mother April Fools Day was an art form. Here's what I mean. A few weeks back, I was trading emails with my brother's first wife, Karen Lupa, who is a nurse. Somehow, the subject of all this came up, and she told me a story I'd never heard before. It was from over 30 years ago, mind you, but it had stuck with her all these years. Now, remember - you know this is an April Fools joke. Imagine not knowing what's coming and living it. Here's what Karen wrote - "I wanted to add my favorite Betty Lou April Fool's joke. (As she pointed out, it needs to be something TERRIBLE but believable so that the "April Fool" comes as a great relief.) "When John and I were starting out in life and living in Milwaukee, she wanted us to get to know another couple who were physicians (and also, like John, children of physicians.) You might remember that we were anti-upper class culture at the time, that sort of counter-culture thing, but we dutifully met with this couple at one of the city's fancier restaurant and chatted politely, ending the evening with the clear knowledge on all our parts that we would not be socializing regularly with them (or ever!). "About a month later, Betty Lou called me to say that a 'formal' party was being organized at a very nice club for up-and-coming physicians and their wives. She started to help me decide what we could wear (I don't mean pull out of our closet, since of course we had no evening clothes, that just wasn't us, but rather what we had to BUY to wear). And beyond buying clothes, she helped me, too, figure out what to talk about and who to be sure to talk to, and also how really important this would be for all the parents, as they launched their respective kids into the world of medicine. As you can imagine, this was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. The conversation went on for a good 10 minutes - before those most delicious words....April fool!" That, ladies and gents, is the work of a master. And you must understand: this wasn't the exception. This is what my mother did on April Fools Day. To everyone in the family. And to good friends who got caught in the crosshairs. Everyone. Every year. For decade after decade. And you knew it was coming. And she got you every time. Because she was a master. Maybe they all weren't this elaborate. But often they were. And usually there was a lengthy set-up of some sort. Only rarely, and only later in her life when people were really on their guard did she occasionally toss in something quick, down and dirty. But most of the time, I got to witness the Shakespeare of April Fools Day at work. Watching any master craftsman at work is a rare joy to behold. And only the few are lucky enough to be witnesses. I was one of the lucky ones once a year, every year, on April 1. I thought we'd end our Opening Day celebration with a graphic that might give at least a small sense of why the day was All Baseball / All Day. I subscribe to MLB.TV, which allows members to watch every baseball game live, but also offers archives of the games if you miss them, and "shortened" versions of the games that edit out all the down-time and only show the pitches. It will not shock anyone here to know that I pretty much just watch the Cubs games (on the service, I'll watch other games on TV), though occasionally I'll put on different teams. As it turns out, MLB.TV keeps a record of who watches what and for how long. And a few weeks back, as Spring Training began, I got an email from MLB.TV with information they hadn't ever sent in the past. I have to admit, it surprised even me. A lot. Wait, seriously? I was in the "Top 1%" of Cubs fans???! And the "Top 9%" of ALL viewers in the United States???! I don't know which of those two is weirder. Still, in semi-defense of myself, I have a theory for this: I work at home, and spend most of my time at my desk in front of my computer, typing away. And while most baseball teams play their games at night, the Cubs play the majority of their games during the day -- when most people (including Cubs fans) are, y'know, at work. Or school. So, they can't put MLB.TV on to watch even an inning of a Cubs game, let alone the full game. But I can. And...well, I do. (Okay, not every game, and not every inning. I do have a life, within speaking. And it's generally on in the background as I work. Generally. And we're talking home games only for day games, because most of the Cubs away games are at night.) And since most baseball games for every other team are at night, most people have a great many choices of things they want or need to do at night when games are on. Watch TV. Stream movies. Study. Read. Have dinner. Get together with friends. Actually deal with your family. And yes, of course, watching a baseball game falls in there, as well, but probably not every night for 162 games. For three hours each game. But for half the season, 81 games, there I am working at my desk at home, and putting the Cubs games on. Not all of them (many are at night), and not the full games, but for at least part of all of them. And even when the Cubs are playing at night, I might put the game on for a while, or check the best innings of an archived game. And the end result of that is -- So be it. What can I say? That's what the statistics show. I can only accept the reality, explain it the best I can, understand that's it's a bit weird even with a reasonable explanation, and have a fine old time watching baseball and following the Cubs. While working!!! (Yes, I'm really, actually working when the games are on. Most of the time.) Play ball! As readers of these pages know, I've been a big political supporter of Nick Melvoin, since he was first-elected to the Los Angeles School Board, and then won re-election two years ago. He's the son of my friends Jeff and Martha Melvoin (who I believe were the only parents of any candidate in the race who walked through the district knocking on doors...), and has a wonderful background in law, politics (having worked in the Obama Administration) and teaching, as well as community activity. And he recently ran for Congress in the CA-30 district, hoping to win the seat vacated by Adam Schiff in his run for the U.S. Senate. Though Nick got some good endorsements, including the Los Angeles Daily News and Collin Allred (who just won the Democratic nomination for a U.S. Senate race in Texas against Ted Cruz), unfortunately he didn't finish in the top two of the "jungle primary" for the House nomination. Among other things, the 30th District didn't overlap the district that Nick represents on the School Board, so it was a tough battle against several well-known representatives in the state. Happily, he didn't have to give up his seat on the School Board, and I think he still has a great future. What also stood out for me was the "concession" email he sent out to all supporters. It was pure Nick -- gracious and thoughtful, upbeat and forward-looking, not a slam at anyone in sight, and I think it could stand out as a template for all candidates who don't win their race. It was so good that I thought I would post it here. Hey Robert -- Today, I'm reaching out to share some thoughts following Tuesday's election. Although there are still tens of thousands of votes to count, things did not go our way and we won't be advancing to the November election. I'm incredibly humbled by the support I've received throughout this campaign. I want to thank everyone — family, friends, volunteers, campaign staff, and community leaders — who joined our campaign and shared our message of solutions-oriented leadership. Building this movement would not have been possible without you, Robert. While these aren't the results we wanted, I am happy to congratulate my friend Assemblymember Laura Friedman on her successful, hard-fought campaign; it looks like she will be taking on a Republican in November. Getting to know the other candidates eager to uplift our community has been such a gift in this experience. I look forward to working with all of them to deliver for the communities of California's 30th congressional district. I am so proud of this campaign, but, more than that, so humbled by the experience. My overwhelming sentiment over the last 24 hours has truly been one of gratitude: I'm grateful for my community, for my family, and for all of you in my corner. You make the successes all the more satisfying and the losses all the easier to bear. It has been said that victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan; I have not found that at all true with you. I believe in politics because I believe in people–in our ability to do amazing things when we come together. That belief is undeterred. At a time when our politics seems so cynical and our world so bleak, I remember that we are here because of the choices people make. We can make better choices. Not just the big important ones in elections every few years, but the little ones every day. How we treat one another. How we show up for each other. It struck me as I was talking to voters at their doorsteps over the last few weeks that the world is not often changed by grand gestures, but by almost invisible ones: acts of kindness and inclusion and tolerance that start to change the way we treat one another. At its best, that is what public service can be: a manifestation of our belief in one another. I remain deeply committed to that work, on the School Board and as a citizen, and I thank you for the opportunity to serve. Onward, Nick |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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