Lost and Found

Tags

art, Batman, books, faith, friends, friendship, graphic novels, grief, inspiration, movies, nostalgia, religion, sci-fi, space travel, writing

Lately I’d been thinking about a friend I hadn’t heard from in a few years, Allen Etter, artist, teacher, film director, author, and innovative writer of Christian Science Fiction. I don’t know about the genre now, but when Allen wrote Entropy Gate, I’d never read anything like it. As I searched out his website to see if he still taught at the university, I was saddened to learn that he had died, quite young at 52.

Publishers of Christian fiction were not interested when Allen wrote EG. You don’t have to be Christian or interested in science fiction to enjoy Entropy Gate or its sequel, Beyond. He illustrated his own graphic novels with his distinctive graceful/grotesque talent. I always admired his ability to evoke movement in his paintings.

Entropy Gate:

https://www.amazon.com/Entropy-Gate-Journey-Allen-Etter-ebook/dp/B005M6Q7HM/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=allen+Etter&qid=1580064068&s=books&sr=1-2

Beyond:

https://www.amazon.com/Entropy-Gate-Beyond-Allen-Etter-ebook/dp/B005U6ZDE2/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=allen+Etter&qid=1580064068&s=books&sr=1-3

Allen was invested in his faith, his family, and artistry. I admired the way his brain processed art in practical applications. One of his first webpages was of the girl on the cover of Entropy Gate and accessing the site by entering her sparkling green eye.

I remember best the wisdom in Allen’s large, dark eyes, his graceful hands, and his physical presence. At 6’7, he filled up surrounding space but he was never intimidating, more like cuddly. He listened with care and carried with him a quiet, inner burden. I enjoyed talking about fencing, which we both had studied, he being the better fencer.

Allen leaves behind sons and a wife he adored. I am sorry I hadn’t talked to him recently but have his art, books, the appreciation of his encouragement of my beginning efforts. Please check out his works on Amazon and enjoy his many exceptional talents. My glowing reviews were removed when it was discovered that we were friends, but he’s left some of them behind for us to admire. One of my favorites is a rendition of Batman:

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KNIVES & NEIGHBORHOOD

Tags

humor, inspiration, Knives Out, movie review, movies, mystery, religion, Tom Hanks

Knives Out 

Oh, yeah, let’s go there. Saw this last night with a group of friends from my church and we laughed and laughed. It’s the most fun mystery ever! I was too busy enjoying the people on screen to get invested in figuring out the mystery, which becomes clear about three-quarters through. I’m sure my friend and critique partner, Judy (aka Judi Lynn), who writes mysteries, will figure it out much earlier from some obvious clues.

As usual, I’m fascinated with the subtleties. If you look at any of the promo stills, you’ll notice the makeup, obvious shadows and blush under the cheekbones, to give the Thrombey family the look of thinness, a gaunt desperation. This is in contrast to the plump sweetness of the nurse/companion, Marta, in comparison to the Thrombey family of sharks. Everyone in this movies is having so much fun with their delicious characters—so meaty they could be easily be blown over the top—but all are skillfully contained. Or executed. (Couldn’t resist that.)

The house itself is a character. I can’t wait to slap the CD into the player so it can be paused to savor the gorgeousness of the interiors. (Who has a cannon in their drawing room?)

There are so many delightful twists and turns coming constantly and out of nowhere and yet slotted perfectly into the puzzle. Many tongue-in-cheek remarks and inferences are said so quickly they’re easy to miss. Love the detective’s name, Benoit Blanc, who surprisingly plugs in earbuds and sings a Sondheim show tune.

There is so much going on in this movie on so many levels that it’s a viewing that can be enjoyed over and over and will probably become a cult classic. Keep an eye out for Frank Oz and K Callan; as Stanislavski said, “There are no small roles, only small actors.”

Everybody in this is juicy, and I want to grow up to be Jamie Lee Curtis.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

This is nothing like what I expected. The only way I can think to describe this movie is intimate—almost, but not quite, too intimate. I have yet to read the Esquire article on which this film is based but imagine it will be as unique and unexpected as this work is. I was equal parts impressed, moved, humbled, informed, and encouraged.

Special camera work was used to capture what the original TV program looked like. The “Neighborhood” set and formatting was used throughout the filming as a tool to suck the viewer/audience into the world of Fred Rogers and the bitter, emotionally wretched internal life of a journalist (Vogel), who copes with, but has never resolved childhood traumas. When Vogel is assigned the job of writing about a beloved national icon, his wife begs him not to ruin her childhood with one of his typical exposé pieces.

As Tom Hanks said—explaining his POV in an interview—people thought of Rogers as either a saint or a fraud. Vogel leaned more toward the fraud, and after meeting Rogers, ended up bewildered, confused, then disbelieving to the point where he becomes almost obsessed with the need to understand someone who only sees the good in others and him. And the hurt.

What I liked most about this movie is how respectfully Rogers is depicted, not as a saint, but as a person with flaws and problems, while imbued with substantial grace and so much compassion he could cherish everyone as a unique being. On his TV program Rogers never talked about God, and yet he exemplified all that is good about religious belief. He personified true evangelism by extending compassion and kindness. He brought more goodness and light into the world as no present day evangelism or obnoxious evangelists do.  Reverend Fred Rogers saved souls without self-righteous demands to repent or pointing out what is lacking or needs changing.  He lived his beliefs, celebrated differences, and accomplished it while battling his own failings and disappointments.

We can’t all be a Fred Rogers, but we can see this movie and get an idea of where and how to start.

 

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-donner

https://www.facebook.com/Julia-Donner-697165363688218/timeline

 

Dedicated to Marlane Sturm

Tags

culture, customs, doctrine, dogma, Indian, Lakotah, Little Big Horn, Ministry, Missionary, Missions, Music, Muslim, Native American, religion, Sioux, spirituality

For almost twenty-six years, Marlane Sturm directed Music Ministry at Aldersgate UMC in Fort Wayne, IN. Music was not her only calling. She nurtured a fierce interest and commitment to Native Americans, especially the Sioux, and created the Bear Creek Mission. Her aim was to help. She understood their beliefs and culture. She never went to the reservation to preach, only to help, and in time, was given their trust and respect—not an easy achievement.

I only know bits and pieces of the indigenous peoples of the costal and southern US. Due to a character in one of my works, Jacob Sampson Williams, I had to research the plains tribes. Since there is so much written, and I wasn’t a scholar, I chose to use the perspective of the Northern Cheyenne.

John Stands in Timber, the late tribal historian for the Northern Cheyenne wrote Cheyenne Memories. His book became my source material for Jake, half Indian, whose mother was a German immigrant. In 1860, she travels west to help a relative and is nearly killed when pitched from a carriage during a prairie fire. She would have died, if not for Jake’s father, who finds her wandering in shock.

The Northern Cheyenne, at that time, had a different viewpoint when it came to crazy. We lock up, drug up, or shun people with mental issues. They considered them somewhat blessed, touched in the head by spirits, and therefore, were carefully treated. The camp accepted the woman who would become Jake’s mother as Human, one of the People.

Another profound difference between our belief systems is the Native American respect for Nature, their understanding that all things relate to all things. The world, its peoples, the stars and moon, everything is interconnected. Some plains tribes thought of farming the land as “cutting the Mother’s breast,” while Eastern tribes were wonderful farmers.

Two hundred years ago, our expansionism refused to accept that Indians had nations, spoke and believed differently, until they realized tribal feuds could be a useful tool. The battle at Greasy Grass (Little Big Horn) is quite different in Cheyenne Memories from the deification of Custer’s role. Industry and railroads owned the politicians and newspapers. It was essential to vilify anyone and anything seen as a barrier to expansion. The mutilations to dead soldiers at Greasy Grass was exploited in the press. The mutilations and horror of Sand Creek, where Black Kettle had been told to safely camp, then ruthlessly massacred, were far worse than Creasy Grass and included the women and children. Warriors had no respect for anyone who hurt the innocent and had long memories.

Unlike our culture, tribal leaders were chosen for their generosity, (often the poorest in camp due to giving away everything they owned), or for their spirituality and wisdom. All males fought, while the women and children hid. Some women stayed behind to fight, but children were cherished. To bombard a peaceful village was incomprehensible and profoundly evil to the People.

Why all the sad parts of history? The point is to illustrate the differences in cultures and how Marlane understood and demonstrated her awareness. We live in a world where strict adherence to religious dogma has created chaos and violence. I knew nothing about Muslims until one married into our family. He explained the kindness inherent in those who practice the Muslin faith with true dedication. I felt shame and despair that doctrine is used as a justification for hatred. I learned from his patience with my ignorance, discovered a need to study other religions, and have had my own faith enriched by the differences.

Marlane was graced with an understanding—the heart to know and live it. There are Lakotah who will never think of her as a waśicun but as wicaśa okinihan.

Enjoy your well-deserved retirement, Marlanie, but we will miss you.