When the Red, Red Robin comes. . .Ahh, No, Help Me!

We decided to go out for dinner last night because the refrigerator was empty, and it was too darn hot to cook, anyway. Our first stop took us to UNO in Fayetteville, which seemed crowded with senior citizens, and offered a wait of at least 1/2 hour. (Let me be clear that we have nothing against senior citizens. After all, how could we?) So we went up the hill to Hullar's and went inside. The patrons who were there looked like melting figures on a dark birthday cake, as the AC seemed to be barely working. Thus, we decided to go back down the hill to a place of whose door we had vowed to never again darken. Oh, life, why do we choose not to learn from you? (For those of you into literary terms, I believe that is an example of "apostrophe.")

We entered RED ROBIN. We were first accosted by the noise of the place, but it was cool and we only had to wait 5 minutes before being seated in a tiny booth adjacent to the food prep area. One very nice occurrence then occurred, as occurrences are like to do. We saw John Kieffer and his lovely family, whom we hadn't seen since Catherine Simoneaux had her high school grad party. I wish that occurrence had been the start of good things, but no. . . having gone to fetch our vodka and tonic and glass of chardonnay, the waitress returned to tell us the bar was out of both tonic and chardonnay. How could a bar be out of tonic on the hottest day of the year? Ah well, we scanned the menu hoping that something we wanted would have been added since the last time, probably 2 years before, that we had eaten at RR. Nothing had been. I opted for the chicken sandwich with the "unlimited french fry" option, a sure reason that RR again won't be named to the healthiest restaurant list this year. Linda went for the petite cob salad and soup combo. As we waited I drank a cranberry and vodka as Linda sipped a glass of I forget what it was. In that time, we were regaled 3 times with the monstrous Red Robin birthday song. When our food arrived, Linda discovered that the cup of soup she had ordered was indeed a large bowl of soup, which hitting on both cylinders, to mix a metaphor, was both cold and flavorless. The petite cob salad, while not petite, did come unmixed. My chicken was chicken. We ate a bit and left.

Now I know we were at fault for this gastronomic error. RED ROBIN is for kids and parents, who are too exhausted to care what they are eating. But I am writing this to serve as a reminder in text to never again eat there. (How can a bar be out of tonic?)

Hi-Ho, Silver! They're Blowin' Up the White House!

Over the last week, Linda and I went to see two of the biggest movie bombs of the year.  Our first trip into cinema disfavor was to see “White House Down.”  That adventure was followed shortly by a sojourn to see the artistic and economic disaster known as “The Lone Ranger.”  Both of these films have become box office flops despite the presence of big star power, the nearly iconic Jamie Foxx in “WHD,” and the truly iconic Johnny Depp in “The Lone Ranger.”  Linda and I fall outside of the demographics at which, I am sure, these films were aimed, so maybe we can judge them more objectively than lots of filmgoers.

We loved “White House Down.”  So did a lot of critics.  I think people didn’t go see it because of the trailers on TV.  It just looked like another “Independence Day,” let’s blow up a bunch of D.C. landmarks movie.  It was that. . .and lots more.  It was suspenseful, exciting, silly, funny, and a good way to spend a couple hours on a humid afternoon.  Channing Tatum is a hunk to be reckoned with as he guns down and snaps the necks of several dozen homegrown terrorists.  Linda thought he was pretty cool, but of course, no rival to Mark Harmon.  Jamie Foxx’s POTUS comes off as human and funny and courageous, and James Woods as the Secret Service guy is his usual wonderfully snakey self.  (Watch for the moment when they bring his wife in to talk him.  It’s great!)  The best performance for me was by the littlest actor, Joey King, a darling 13 year-old, who looks about 10, as Tatum’s incredibly brave and smart daughter caught in the middle of the White House mess.  This little one is really good, and there’s a maturity about her 13 year old face and demeanor.  Joey seems to be older than her years while still maintaining an innocence and vulnerability.  There are weaknesses in the film.  According to this tale, virtually every member of the Secret Service is a moron!  Also, I was troubled by why they had to summon a rocket from an underground silo in Nebraska or some such midwestern place to shoot down Air Force 2.  Wouldn’t there be an easier way.  And finally, the body count was a little bit over the top, and the film was at least 20 minutes too long, but virtually every movie I see is at least 20 minutes too long.  Still, “White House Down” was no downer!  (Lord, that’s an awful concluding sentence.  It reminds me of the titles of some of the bad film reviews that my English 12 students wrote years ago.  I didn’t say they were all bad, now!)

We did not love “The Lone Ranger.”  Being of the era of the original Lone Ranger (see photo), we tried but could find little to like much less love.  It was as if the Disney creators of this film tried to jam every possible plot line and theme they could imagine into a movie that was at least 2 hours too long.  Also, the Lone Ranger is an icon of bravery and justice.  He is not a common-senseless nerd as played by Armie Hammer.  Another, also--Tonto is not an idiot even though his name means that in Spanish.  He is the embodiment of the true friend.  Why Johnny Depp, etal., thought it would be funny to have him come across as a silly, bad-skinned Native American version of Captain Jack Sparrow with a dead raven on his head, I cannot guess.  I am worrying about Johnny, who has been one of my favorites.  Barnabas Collins and now this!! At least Tonto didn’t have any gold teeth!   Another also, everyone in the movie is completely forgettable.  I doubt we will ever hear of the actress who plays the Ranger’s love interest again.  I’ve already forgotten her name.  (And by the way, Disney, the Lone Ranger does not have love interests!  He is an “Adamic” hero in the pre-Eve stage.)  And also, also, also, Tom Wilkinson, one of my favorite actors, did your contract include the clause that you were allowed to hide behind that ridiculous beard while playing the heartless, and apparently something else-less, villain!   Finally, let me mention something good--I found a couple of the things they did with the horse, Silver to be modestly clever.  The horse’s role was by far the most intelligent in the film.  Finally, finally, I know the story of the Lone Ranger from beginning to end.  I had the 78 rpm record “The Legend of the Lone Ranger” when I was 7 years old and played it over and over for years.  I remember Captain Dan Reed. Butch Cavendish, Bryant Gap where “Collins, their guide, had lied,” and can still recite parts from memory.  Maybe a 10 year-old who has never heard of the Lone Ranger would enjoy this new film.  I can’t imagine anyone else would.  It’s just too STUPID!  And a final also, “kemo sabe” means faithful friend, now and forever.

"Where Everybody Knows your Name"

There are two songs I really like which, though quite different, have the same sentiment.  The first is from the musical “Carnival,” and the title, I believe, is “Can You Imagine That?”  In it, the ingenue sings about the little town of Mira, which she left to join the circus, and the lyric runs, “. . .what I like the best in Mira, is everybody knew my name.  Can you imagine that?  Can you imagine that?  Everybody knew my name.”  The other song, which I’m sure some readers will have guessed, is the anthem from “Cheers,” the bar where, “You wanna go where people know, people are all the same, You wanna go where everybody knows your name.“  Those songs were both playing in my head before I fell asleep a week ago Thursday night, and I am happy to tell you why.

We had had a pretty miserable day that Thursday.  Up early, we drove 130 miles or so to Troy, NY, so Linda could see her mom who had fallen at home and been taken from the hospital to a rehab center.  Her mother, of course, was upset, and we figured that Linda and her sister and brother were facing the prospect of finding an assisted living facility to which their mom could be moved from her home.  We anticipated the sadness and anger and guilt and such that were sure to follow.

We got back on the Thruway and headed back to Chittenango, hoping to arrive prior to 7:00 p.m. to attend the wake for Don Perrone.  Don, if you didn’t know him, was a terrific gentleman.  Linda and I had known the Perrone family virtually all the time we taught and lived in Chittenango.   It was after 7:00 when we passed the post office, and we weren’t dressed in “calling hour clothes,” so we decided to go have dinner at Delphia’s, sorry that we had missed the wake.

We walked in and immediately saw Sylvia Perrone, Don’s sister-in-law, and her two granddaughters, who told us that the rest of the family would be along soon.  Then we saw Don and Edie Pinegar, our longtime, great friends.  They were aware of our mission that day and were very concerned.  Seeing them lifted us up a bit.  It was nice to be home with people who cared.  We were only at our a table for a few minutes, our drinks just delivered by a student from the past, when the Perrone family began to arrive for dinner.  It was better than if we had been to the wake.  We had time to talk to them, and offer our condolences.  I talk with Terry almost every day at Panera’s, but I hadn’t seen his brother Steve, a really good friend, in a long time, and it was great to give him a hug and tell him how sorry we were.

After dinner, we walked toward the front door, and I heard someone call my name.  I looked right and saw Ari Arsenault, who I hadn’t seen in years.  I walked over and gave Ari a hug.  She looked pretty great despite having just come from playing tennis with Colin Brady.  We talked for five minutes or so, and I caught up on her family.  Ari was a favorite student back in the late 90’s, and it made me feel really good to see her and know she was doing well.  And sitting right next to Ari and Colin were the Drescher’s, so we said a quick hello to them as well.

When Linda and I finally went out Delphia’s front door, I was feeling a lot better than when I entered.  We had entered feeling kind of down, and by the time we left, the friends we saw inside, even though we shared sorrow with some of them, had lifted us up.  We knew we were part of something good.  That’s what’s special about living in a place, especially one like Chittenango, for a long time.  You become part of--I don’t know the right word--the fabric, the story, the DNA of the village.  Whatever word you choose, it is a comforting thing to belong to.   Even though, we didn’t really know everybody in Delphia’s that night, it felt like it, and that felt good.  “Can you imagine that?  Can you imagine that?  Everybody knew my name!”