Left to my own devices

W e moved from the house -- mom, dad and I -- in Spring of 1986, so this would have been around Christmas of 1983, 1984, or 1985, no later than that. I was standing on the front porch of our home on Draper St., the first home I'd ever known, with a couple of friends. I think one of them was Lyle? Maybe? I don't know. There were a couple of friends present. They'd come over earlier, and we'd just finished playing for the day. We were on the porch, doing that midwestern small talk before saying goodbye, and somehow, perhaps because it was in the offing, the subject of Christmas came up.

"Hello, how are you? Have you been alright Through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely nights?" - Telephone Line ,  ELO T here was a time when I used to love talking on the phone. This was before the ubiquity of the Internet, before cell phones, texting, video calls, etc. It was also before I had a job, and much of the work I've ended up doing over the years has fallen under the designation of customer service, where I would interact with folks either in-person or over the phone. That can wear down one's capacity for certain types of contact methods during off-hours. This was before all of that. This was when I was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young person.

      O ne of the topics at Thanksgiving was the lost art of letter writing. Once a commonplace necessity of communication, it is now wistfully recalled by those old enough to remember when it was abundant. It can certainly be argued that it had its time, and technology has usurped it, opening avenues of imparting dialogue and information to those we care about in ways that surpass the quaint, clunky method of writing something in our own hand on pieces of paper, folding them up, putting them in an envelope, paying for postage and mailing them off, only to take perhaps several days to reach their destination. And yet...

It's Election Day in these great United States of ours. I have today off from work. Our governor declared it a state holiday (though it only seems to apply to certain employers), the idea being that it will be easier for folks to go vote if they don't have to wrangle time-off from work in order to do so. Schools have the day off, as well, so I've heard that's caused issues for some parents. It's never going to be perfect. I applaud the intent.

Election Day here in the U.S. is just two days away, so why not have a little fun (your definition of 'fun' may vary), and try to predict the outcome? We'll also touch, tangentially, on the House and Senate outlook, because I believe the Senate and presidential races to be at least somewhat tied together. There's going to be some (minor) bits of history thrown-in, as well, for better or worse. Are you ready? Let's go.

As we hurtle toward the November 3rd election here in the U.S., where presidential, federal, state and local races will be decided, I find myself longing for the past. And, it isn't some distant, long ago past that never really existed. Just the other day I was watching a five-hour-long recording, on YouTube, of the NBC News coverage of Election Night1992. There was Tom Brokaw, Katie Couric, Bryant Gumbel, and the late John Chancellor and Tim Russert, all sitting around the newsroom, waiting on results to come in, calling states for either Bush or Clinton, and it was all so quaint and, oddly, a little charming.

I heard the Spice Girls song Move Over on the radio t'other day. Though the lyrics are fairly inane, I believe the gist of it is about how Generation X is gonna take over (unclear as to what -- society? the world? a toy shop?). At any rate , the song was from 1997 and, as I was listening to it (a fellow GenXer myself), I thought, "Have we really taken over, though?"

I'm not going to sugar coat it for you. The recent weeks have been pretty mentally and emotionally dire. There's a low-level hum of stress that seems to permeate every fiber of my being. And, yes, much of it is pandemic-related. I've been more fortunate than many, and I realize and appreciate that, but it doesn't mean my life hasn't been impacted, or that I'm devoid of stress points. I've started seeing a therapist, though so far those sessions have only mildly helped. The other night, in one of the darkest moods of late, I thought  "I don't think I'm going to make it through this pandemic. There's just nothing to look forward to anymore." Looking forward to things is something I took for granted in the pre-COVID days. It's doubtful I'm the only who can acknowledge that. Some of the things that filled my calendar were work or council-related, while others were more recreational. To be honest, I miss them all. While life during t

Did I tell you about the time I called and spoke with the editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics? Years ago, back in the mists of time (the late-eighties/early-nineties), I voraciously read comic books. Marvel Comics, specifically. DC was good for movies, but when it came to reading, I preferred the stories that Marvel put out. Among my favorite series were Thor, The Amazing Spider-Man, Captain America, The Avengers, Fantastic Four, Transformers, Marvel's Secret Wars, X-Men, The Punisher, Marvel's New Universe and, occasionally, Daredevil . I would go to various locations around town -- Fantasy Realm, and Book Nook, among others -- every month to purchase new issues. I shared my love of comic books with my friend, Derrick. We would discuss the content of new issues over the phone, and in-person. In fact, our love of comics led us to draw our own. The one I was proudest of was Foxbolt , which, if I'm being perfectly honest, was a rip-off of Batman and the TV cartoon character, B

T wenty-three years ago today, we buried my dad. I use the collective "we" to imply Lewis's family and friends who were there, though none of us did the actual grave-digging and burial. It was a Tuesday. his visitation had been the previous day, and he'd died on Thursday of the preceding week. All of this occurred in Springfield, IL. I was living in Champaign. The drives to and from the cities on those days felt like the longest drives of my life.  Lewis, who'd been a sergeant in the Vietnam War, is buried in Camp Butler National Cemetery, just outside of Springfield. I'd say his thoughts on his military service were conflicted. Back in the early nineties, at the outbreak of the Persian Gulf War, dad and I had a phone conversation about what was going on. I was nervous about the conflict continuing for years, and the possibility of being drafted once I'd turned 18. I could see the sneer on Lewis's face through the telephone line. "Don't you lo

     I f you live long enough, you see a lot of things change. This can include an evolving urban landscape, where businesses come and go with the times. Among them are movie theaters, part of my favorite trifecta of establishments, along with bookstores and restaurants. In my hometown of Champaign, Illinois, several movie theaters have come and gone during my lifetime -- the Co-Ed Theater that used to be in the heart of campus town. Market Place Cinemas that used to be out by, well, Market Place Mall. Country Fair Theater that used to be a part of the then-bustling Country Fair strip mall. And, of course, the lovely Art Theater, which closed in late 2019 after a century of showing films. The most recent casualty is the Savoy 16. Like most movie theaters, the Savoy closed for the pandemic back in March. This wasn't long after its parent company, Goodrich Quality Theaters (GQT) filed for bankruptcy. Well, GQT has navigated the pandemic waters and is re-opening most of its theaters,

N ate Silver and the folks at 538 unveiled their  forecast model  for the 2020 U.S. presidential election yesterday. You should check it out, if such things interest you. When the model debuted, it gave Biden a 71% chance of winning the election. As of now, it's nudged-up to 72%. As has been noted by 538 (and others) those are same odds they gave Hillary Clinton on Election Day 2016. Take that as you will, but it obviously reinforces the notion that a nearly 30% chance of winning is nothing to take lightly. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your political persuasion), I think that Trump has a decent chance of being re-elected in just under 3 months. It brings me no happiness to believe this, and "decent" isn't solid, or great, but some of my Democratic friends are acting like this election is all but over, and I just can't agree. It all comes down to the Electoral College, and Trump could have an advantage there. You can see above the map I made at 270to

     L ast Saturday I drove to Lafayette, Indiana, ostensibly to look at a car. The deal couldn't be made (hail damage to my current vehicle, which had previously gone unnoticed, needs to be repaired first), so only half of the time there was spent at the dealership. I almost left for home straight afterward but my conscience drew me to Tippecanoe Memory Gardens, a cemetery where the remains of my friend Bret are interred. A fifteen minute drive from the dealership took me to my destination. I'd been there once before, and remembered the columbarium where Bret's remains were kept in a wall crypt. A sign on the door said that the building was locked at 6:00pm daily. I checked my watch and my heart sank at the realization that it was 6:35pm. Thankfully, the doors were still open, so I walked in. The room was empty (of the living, that is, and full of pew-like seats at a slight angle with a center aisle cutting between them. There, at the front, in a small wall crypt, was Bret

There have been a few events during my life, some personal, some en masse, that have impacted my life profoundly. Their influence was profound, altering my perception of the world, and my life in it. I feel as though the current pandemic ought to be another one of those occasions but, honestly, I don't know what to think of it at the moment. There have been some short-term affects, but it is difficult to comprehend the long-term ramifications at this point.

Nearly three decades ago, I read a novel by P.D. James. She was (and still is, rest her soul) my favorite author, and her then-latest book was a departure from the series of crime novels starring her poet-detective Adam Dalgliesh. The Children of Men came out in 1992, and was set in a dystopian future-England of 2021. The last human was born some two decades previous, the reason for a lack of any further births unknown, and society has cratered as a result. I was riveted by the book, reading it late at night, at school, even waiting for a dental appointment. The novel was adapted into a much ballyhooed film in 2006. It dropped the " the " from the title, and made a few more changes, but the core idea was there. It's a captivating movie, with assured director Alfonso Cuaron at the helm, though it takes on a darker, gritty, and more violent nature than its source material. Or perhaps all of that was on the page, but my mind interpreted it differently than it was

Have we done the review of my favorite songs from last year yet? No? Right, here we go...

"I love the past, 'cause I hate suspense." - Diane Young, by Vampire Weekend The interesting thing about being alive is that we know what's come before, but not what will be. Well, that isn't the only interesting thing, obviously, but it's an aspect of existence that fascinates me. Put another way, we know the past, but never the future. And, there will always be a future -- something epochal would have to occur for that to change. I've been ruminating on the aforementioned reality somewhat often during this pandemic. Additionally, I've considered the importance of the shared experiences we have, both en masse and amongst our smaller, more tightly-knit sub-groups (friends, family, that sort of thing). It is a significant factor to know our history, but there's nothing quite like going through a major event at the same time as those we know, those fellow humans who mean something special to us.

The original plan was to be seated in a movie theater this evening for the premiere of the new James Bond movie. That notion was scuttled when, somewhat early on, the movie studio pushed-back the film to November, out of concern regarding the novel coronavirus. Not to be put-off, plan B was the  general idea of getting together with some friends at a restaurant, to celebrate. Whatever happened, it would be the polar opposite of that day exactly one decade ago. Alas, fate intervened yet again.

A few days ago, Adam Schlesinger died from complications of the coronavirus. I'm not exactly sure why his death, amongst all the others , startled me so much. I'd forgotten all about his band, Fountains of Wayne, until learning of his passing, and couldn't even whistle one of their tunes. Perhaps it was because Schlesinger was 52, which is close (enough) to my own age? Perhaps it was just a culmination of the mounting death toll? I'm not sure, but it seemed to drive home the reality that this virus can not only infect, but kill. It cares not of class, race, religion, nationality, or age.

"Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker  Wherever you're going, I'm going your way"                                ---- Moon River, Mancini/Mercer The scariest part of life is not knowing the future. I am convinced of this, and it's one of the reasons we tend to look back on things more fondly than is sometimes deserved. I'll remember the good aspects of a job, for instance, and then have to shake-off the rose-colored glasses for a moment and remind myself how miserable I was during that time. Of course, experiences aren't always straight-up good or bad -- there's things to appreciate amidst the parts we wish hadn't existed. But, not knowing what comes next can often preclude a sense of calm from certain situations. I've been thinking about the aforementioned line-of-thought during these precarious times of sheltering-in-place during the global COVID-19 pandemic. Life has altered to such an extent, in such a relatively brief perio

She Loves Him      I t was during second grade -- was that it? -- when she first noticed him. Jenny, as she was known then, heard Derek answer a question the teacher had put to the class, and it was then that she suddenly noticed he existed. The school year was still young, and several other girls seemed to notice him as well. Many of them jockeyed to sit next to him whenever they were shown a film, which was often. The teacher would wheel-in a television set, put in a tape of a cartoon -- always educational -- and the frenzy to sit next to Derek would begin. Jenny always demured.      Fifth grade, still at the same elementary school, Jenny and Derek were again in the same class, Mrs. Harris, whose room was on the lower level, and felt almost cave-like to be in. Derek was still popular, though Jenny sometimes caught him sitting alone, staring off into space, and she wondered what he was thinking about. Perhaps it was nothing? Or maybe he had stuff going on in his life. M

Last month, I announced the nominees for the Matt Awards , my annual picks for the best in cinema. As promised, here are the winners (no doubt you were all waiting with bated breath)....

Today is the New Hampshire primary, the second state to vote on (among other things) who it wants for president in the 2020 election cycle, at least at the partisan level. Those of us who care about such things will be awaiting the primary results after polls close tonight. Bernie Sanders will very likely win the state, which wouldn't be unexpected, as he won it four years ago, and it neighbors his home state of Vermont, so something would be wrong if he didn't win. Pete Buttigieg will likely place second which, as a Buttigieg supporter, I'm fine with. I still don't think he'll do as well in Nevada and South Carolina (and beyond), but that's for another day.

We're counting down my 100 favorite songs of the 2010-19 decade, ten at a time. You know the drill by now....

In exactly one week, voters in the state of Iowa will caucus to decide who they think should be the next presidential nominee. It'll be a snooze fest on the Republican side, but quite the opposite for the Democrats. It will the serve as the beginning of a long primary season and, by virtue of its seemingly immovable place on the schedule, Iowa has what some consider to be out-sized importance for the dozen (technically) active candidates on the Democratic side. I am of mixed-feelings regarding next Monday. On the one hand, it's time we had real data. Not polls, not political ads, not stump speeches, not hyper-sensitive supporters engaging in online arguments and defenses -- real data. The only way we have that in this situation is for people to vote. On the other hand, results will barely be in when the mighty media wurlitzer will crank into gear, telling us how things really went down. That is the down side to concrete results of an ongoing electoral process -- narra

     H aving been a big Leonardo DiCaprio fan since the mid-1990s, I was disappointed when he wasn't nominated for an Oscar for his role in Titanic . Thus, in early 1998, began what was to become an annual tradition -- The Matt Awards. Perhaps one of the most egotistical things on God's green earth, every year I proceed to select the best in movie making, as a sort of consolation for the fact that very rarely do the Academy Awards align with my own yearly favorites. I used to do both nominations and then, a few weeks, pick the winners. After awhile I just went straight to the winners circle. This year, however, I feel like there were so many good movies from 2019 that I wanted to at least acknowledge their filmmakers with nominations. In a couple of weeks (before the Oscars ceremony), I will make announce the winners. No doubt you will all be on tenterhooks waiting for who will go home with coveted Matt Prize. Here, then, are the nominees:

Alright, it's been a few weeks. The holidays, and adjusting to the new year sort of put things off-track with the countdown, but let's get back to it and finish this! Up next in our list of Matt's 100 favorite songs of the (last) decade, we crack the Top 50. Let's see what we find...

There's a meme folks have been sharing on social media recently and, frankly, it rankles me on a particular level. It's one of those pro-church messages that couches itself in some sort of welcoming religious love, however, built within it is an insult. And I probably don't have to tell you wherein the insult lies. Here, then, is the wording of the meme, verbatim: "If you are having sex before are married, go to church anyways! If you are a drug addict trying to beat addiction, go to church anyways! If you are confused about whether you are straight or gay, go to church anyways! If you have an addiction to anything, go to church anyways! Churches are hospitals for the broken. Even people saved aren't perfect. It doesn't make you a hypocrite to go to church and do bad things, it makes you a hypocrite when you do them and claim that you aren't. Do you know how to break addition?!? By having people pray for you and pray with you!!! No need to be asham

Last weekend, Ashley & I drove by a new construction open house. I say, "drove by" in that we didn't actually stop and go in. There were three primary reasons for this. One, it was a two-story dwelling, and we're primarily looking for something that's one level. Next, the house is situated by a golf course, and if the news is any indication, golf courses are having a difficult time of it, so that introduces an element of built-in instability to the home purchase. Finally, there's a bit of mixed zoning going on in the developing neighborhood. Across the street from the house (and its fellow single-family residences) is a rather utilitarian-looking apartment complex. 

We had some good times together, he and I. It was the nineties, when the world was young(er). I had come out of the closet only a couple of years previously, and had started going to the local gay bar/dance club about a-year-and-a-half after that. I was gradually becoming more comfortable in my own skin. Dad, and my beloved maternal grandmother, Gummy, were yet to become sick and die from cancer. I was going to the local community college. Life was, if not great, good.

The last decade or so in pop culture has really been a nostalgia treat for folks around my age. Our sentimentality for intellectual properties such as Batman, Star Wars, Jurassic Park, Transformers,The Conners, Will & Grace, etc. has been indulged to the nth degree. That's a positive, I suppose, though there is a downside: what will the youth of today have to look back on 20-30 years from now for their own nostalgia? The mining of past content to satiate the appetites of people longing to look back really does create a vacuum.