An Unexpected Guest

After a day of spinning my tires, with little  focus amounting to almost nothing, resignedly running the hub; I stepped out this eve to catch a glimpse of the pink supermoon (obfuscated by clouds last night). My familiar and I immediately spotted a visitor clambering treeward from the deck. Wonder what ithey thought of my red-and-black plumage (lumberjack coat) and my short-haired, grey-and-white mouser? Certainly enough to not budge after they reached a goodly height. The stand-off could have been interminable. So, in the kindest assertive tone I could muster, I offered, through action and words, that we would go back inside, so long as the visitor cleared out before we came out again.

Reflections on son turning thirteen

And today, my son is thirteen years old. Now that he is a teenager, he can start a Facebook account, although I have always been somewhat elusuve and circumspect about mentioning him on social media until relatively recently. This momentous age throws a lot of my life into perspective. I have been told  repeatedly that I have a good memory and can vividly recall, for better or for worse, much of being twelve, myself.

So now  I look at myself and wonder what my struggling twelve-year-old self would think of who I have become. I grew up in the 1980's in a small city that aped a small town in its attitudes and atmosphere. I first used a typewriter and then a slew of computers before the rise of the Internet and personal computers and gadgets. He is growing up  during Covid in a big city and is a digital native who can cide video games, to cite a few notable contrasts. 

Am I who I want to be? Am I there enough for my son? Am I reigning in my temper, having worked at it for a while now? How do I keep my foibles from imprinting on him? What do I feel the need to change about myself?  How do I guide without (always) nagging, teach by example without preaching?

No easy answers to any such questions, and more, of course. I know that much. The answer lies in the doing and learning for the most part, and rolling with any inevitable mistakes as best I can. He is a great, kind-hearted, creative, empathetic kid. Must have done something right so far.

Urban Myth Debunked about 1962 King King vs. Godzilla

There was an urban myth circulating for years about the original 1962 King King vs. Godzilla that posited it had two distinct endings. In the Japanese theatrical release, Big Green was supposed to win, while in the U.S. release, the King was apparently the victor. Myth's been debunked since.

Alas, I believed the urban myth until all too recently.

Why must Covid bring disillusionment about even this, my fragile truth about a rubber-suit monster movie?

Saw the Japanese version at a Sunday matinee in my hometown at the Port Theatre. For the record, Kong won. Bystanders claimed that his tussle with Godzilla was like fighting someone with a flame thrower.

A syfy.com article about the urban myth is here.