Saturday, December 15, 2001

White Xmas



This time of year still feels a little strange here in L.A. Palm trees and mistletoe don't really go together. In fact a lot of the holiday traditions seem particularly out of place in the context of bright, sunny, 70 degree weather and Spanish mission architecture. Maybe that's because most of those traditions have come to us from Victorian England rather than from, say, first century Judea. Actually, Christmas decor in the spirit of the original Christmas (i.e., sand, palm fronds, camels...) would be quite appropriate for southern California. But Christmastime is not about being appropriate. It's about presents.

This year, since I won't be going "home for the holidays" I'm doing all of my shopping on-line. It's great, you just click on the item you want, add a few bucks for shipping, a few more bucks if you want to get it there on time, a few more bucks if you want it gift wrapped, and off it goes. Check off another name on your shopping list and within 24 hours you receive a confirmation e-mail, informing you that the item you requested is no longer in stock but is being backordered and should arrive sometime around Ground Hog Day. But it's still worth it for the convenience -- you can shop for items from virtually every store in the world and find something special for everyone on your list without ever having to leave the privacy and comfort of your office at work. You can even do it from your home!

I'm planning to catch up on some movies on my days off from work this year. The one I've been waiting for is Lord of the Rings. It's kind of a Christmas movie if you think about it: there's the magic old man with the long white beard, there's elves, there's nine demonic Ringwraiths on horseback and an army of bloodthirsty goblins. Maybe it's not that Christmassy after all.

There really haven't been too many good Christmas movies lately. I rented a couple from last year and was pretty disappointed. The Grinch was mostly pretty dumb until the last half hour when they basically just remade the original cartoon. In order to make it longer they stuck on this ridiculous backstory about the Grinch getting laughed at because he cut himself shaving, so he runs away and goes to live on top of a mountain. Say, do you think that's what happened to the Unabomber?

The other disappointment was The Family Man with Nick Cage about a guy who starts out as a rich asshole who drives a Ferrari and then wakes up as a tire salesman in New Jersey with a cute wife and cute kids and Jeremy Piven as a next door neighbor. Just when you think that he's realized that being a tire salesman is really better than being a rich asshole, he wakes up as the rich asshole again. He goes of after his long lost love and discovers... She's a rich asshole too! At the end we're left to assume that the two rich assholes live happily ever after. But what about the cute kids? And what about Jeremy Piven? Are they dead? Are they lost in a time warp somewhere in New Jersey? Only in Hollywood can they make a movie where they make you believe that being a tire salesman in Jersey is better than being rich and then turn around and tell you that being rich is O.K. too, as long as you follow your heart. Of course you have to get rich first, because everyone knows that following your heart don't pay squat.

There's really only one great Christmas movie -- the one that gets it all right and always brings a tear to the eye. The movie that has become a tradition for so many households, who gather round the TV set with a bowl of popcorn, reciting their favorite lines and sharing their favorite scenes. It's the one movie that really conveys the true spirit of Christmas without being overly sentimental or preachy. Of course you all know the one I'm talking about: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. I'm getting all choked up just thinking about it. I think I'll go rent a copy and pop up some popcorn. I love the scene where they electrocute the cat.

Here's hoping everyone's Holidays are happy and fun. And for those of you expecting presents from me, don't worry -- they'll get there eventually.

Love, Rich

Thursday, November 15, 2001

Milestones



I passed another milestone this month. Turned forty-two. Ever notice how similar "milestone" is to "gravestone?" I never picked up on that before. I guess as you get older you become more aware of things like that.

A lot has happened this year. For me, one big change was deciding to make a movie. I always used to think that I wanted to be a writer. I tried writing novels for a while, then some short stories, then a couple of plays. One time I actually had some poems published in the Connecticut River Review of Poetry. You may have seen them.

I tried songwriting for a while, wrote about fifty or sixty songs, made some demo tapes and sent them around. At one time I was playing three open-mikes a week and even had a few paid gigs here and there. Perhaps the pinnacle of my musical career was playing "Levi" in Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for three weeks at the Stony Creek Puppethouse Theater. I sang, I danced, I played guitar and harmonica: I stole the show.

My greatest claim to fame, however came as a result of a challenge presented to me by my pal Beck Lee who dared me to enter a contest for the "Funniest Unemployed Person" at a comedy club in Manhattan. My resulting stand-up routine may not have won the contest, but it did catch the attention of a New York Times reporter, who described me as "ashen-faced" and "terror-struck." In addition to that glowing report, I was also featured in a piece by a CNN correspondent that ran repeatedly during that holiday weekend. Weren't Mom and Dad proud to see me on TV with the words "Unemployed Comic" emblazoned across the screen?

It was about that time that I read my first screenplay, "Thelma and Louise." My then roommate, Jon Sperry had left it lying around the apartment and I flipped through it, thinking "this looks easy -- I could do this!" And sure enough, a mere three and a half years later I'd already cranked out my first script. I kept at it with diligence, perseverance and deluded enthusiasm until I had churned out eight more scripts and whittled my writing time down to a phenomenal eight days! I knew it was time to move to Hollywood.

Coming out here was a turning point in my life. I had decided to dedicate myself to becoming a successful screenwriter. I took meetings, attended industry parties, made key contacts and learned how to schmooze. I followed the trades, logged onto screenwriter-oriented websites and started work on a new quirky-edgy-drama-comedy. But I still felt like I was on the outside looking in. How long would it take for these Bozos to notice me?

About a year ago I started thinking about what was holding me back. After making my way through the usual list of excuses (which is no small task) I finally came to the realization that I was holding myself back. I tried to imagine what I would be doing if I was doing what I really wanted. The answer I came up with was: making a movie.

Today I met with a guy who was temping in our office for a while. He's putting out his own CD that has a beautiful title song called "Ten Times." He saw my movie and asked me to help him make a video. We are going to begin shooting this weekend. It's not a major production by a long shot, but it's going to be pretty cool.

I guess passing "milestones" ain't so bad, it beats passing gallstones for one thing. Plus, as long as you keep moving forward there's always the possibility of encountering new stuff along the way. I don't know what I'll find between here and the next milestone. Could be something pretty cool.

Love, HWD

Monday, October 15, 2001

Texas Two Step



The past two weekends have featured significant steps in my journey (some might say descent) through Hollywood. As is often the case when on a mythical quest, sometimes you have to travel away from your goal in order to get closer. Consequently, I spent the last four days in Austin Texas at the Austin Film Festival Screenwriter's Conference. But more on that later.

Two weeks ago was the Hollywood premiere of my short movie, Dante's View. The event was held at the Pickford Theater, a thirty-five seat screening room on the lot of Raleigh Studios, the oldest active movie studio in the country. We had rented the theater for an hour and I had arranged to show the movie twice, just in case everyone that I invited actually showed up.

I arrived quite early and extremely nervous and was met at the door of the theater by a woman with a clipboard who was absolutely convinced that I was in the wrong place. Even though I was certain that she was mistaken (I had already been to the Pickford for a test-run a week earlier) her insistence was making me more nervous. Plus I was worried that she would prevent all of my guests from finding the right screening room. It turned out that she was there to greet the audience for a different screening (in the Charlie Chaplin theater) and she didn't even know there was a Pickford theater in the same building. I think she could tell how freaked-out I was getting because for the rest of the evening she acted as one of my "people" and helpfully guided my invitees to the proper venue.

The first show was mainly composed of the people who helped make the movie: Jon and Ivana, of course, Patti Troisi and her husband, Mike Kessler and his parents, Brian Nesin and his girlfriend Romy. There were also a couple of people from work and a few people I didn't know at all. About twenty in all. Not a bad showing, and enough to make the small room feel like it had a decent audience. I was in a hurry to get the show going, so we would have time to run it again and not keep the projectionist later than we had paid him for. It was impossible to enjoy the first show, I was worried about the sound, worried that people wouldn't "get" it, worried that no one else was coming, worried that no one would clap at the end. I was a bit of a mess. When it was over, nobody clapped -- until the final credit. Luckily the credits are only about a minute long, because I don't think I could have held my breath any longer. I think they really liked it. Everyone sure was nice about it.

When we opened the door and looked out into the lobby I was very pleased to see that the place was packed for the second show. A lot of people had gotten slowed up getting in due to the strict security measures employed by the studio. The second show was a lot more fun for me. The house was full, the sound was fine and there was this friend of Ivana's sitting across from me who laughed out loud in ALL the right places. Her laughter finally broke my tension and I loosened up and actually enjoyed myself. It's true, even if you only get through to one other person, that makes it all worthwhile. This time people clapped right away and almost everyone said something positive on the way out. It really felt like a success and was literally a dream come true.

We celebrated afterwards at the Formosa Cafe,
which some of you may know from the movie L.A. Confidential. It is a real piece of Hollywood history where the likes of Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis used to relax between takes of Some Like it Hot. More recently, the new Jim Carrey movie filmed a few scenes there and the afternoon before our party they did a Budweiser commercial using the same room we were in. The party was tremendous, we combined our screening celebration with Ivana's birthday party and the result was a whole lot of fun. There was a huge bouquet of red roses on one of the tables which I thought was for Ivana, and didn't realize till about midnight that they were in fact for me, a gift from my family -- along with a bottle of Drambuie. After a few drinks, people seemed to like the movie even more. Next time, I think I'll open the bar before the screening.

It was a great night and one I'm sure I'll remember for a long long time. The movie is officially ready to begin its own journey, starting with some hopeful submissions to various film festivals around the country. After all of the support, encouragement and just plain help I received in making the movie it felt really good to be able to share it and my excitement about it with so many friends.

While still on the high from the screening, I left early that next Thursday for Austin to attend the Film Festival. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I came prepared with business cards, Dante's View video, and copies of a couple of my scripts. The movie wasn't entered in the festival, but I brought it along just in case. Also I wanted to show it to David Hamburger and Bob Sweeney if possible. David, in particular, deserved a private screening since I ended up using some of his music in the opening sequence. I did enter two screenplays in the competition, and one of the made it to the second round, earning me the privilege of wearing a badge with "Second Rounder" written below my name. Supposedly this is considered something of an honor as several thousand scripts are submitted and only about ten per cent make it to the second round.

The real thrill of the conference, though, was meeting and talking with some screenwriters who are not only giants in the business, but personal heroes as well. Chris McQuarrie, who wrote one of the greatest scripts ever (The Usual Suspects) was amazing, smart, funny, very nice and so generous. I went to two of his seminars, both related to directing (he directed his second film, The Way of The Gun) and ate up everything he said. And if you ever want to hear some funny Benicio Del Toro stories, Chris is your man. Another major heavy, Shane Black (Lethal Weapon, Last Boy Scout, Long Kiss Goodbye) talked about creating heroes and villains, along with fellow legend Jeb Stuart (Die Hard, The Fugitive). I asked them, "What is evil?" and they both just stared at me for about 15 seconds while everyone in the room cracked up. But their very different answers told me a lot about how they approach their craft.

Lawrence Kasdan (Empire Strikes Back, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Big Chill, Body Heat, Silverado...) hosted a screening of one of my favorite westerns (Silverado) at a beautiful old theater in downtown Austin. Afterwards I ran into McQuarrie at the Driskill Hotel bar and asked him if he'd been at the screening. He stopped and looked heavenward and said "What a great fucking movie..." Hanging around with these guys, I actually felt like I belonged. It seemed like we spoke the same language and knew the same jokes. I've never been so close to actually feeling like a member of the club. I wish it could have gone on and on.

Fortunately, I also had a few opportunities to get together with Bob and Dave. In fact the very first night, I found myself listening to some live blues and gospel and drinking Shiner beer with Dave and some of his songwriting cronies and then hooking up with Bob at a very mellow cafe. On Saturday I had the pleasure of visiting Dave at home where he and his lovely and talented wife Catherine sat down for a private screening of Dante's View. We then went out to dinner at the same restaurant where they had their rehearsal dinner. Everyplace in Austin seems like the kind of place you'd have if you were going to start your own restaurant: relaxed, roomy, good music, good food and really cute waitresses.

On Sunday, I finally got to meet Bob's two sons, Thomas and Daniel. Talk about cute, these guys are definitive. And smart too, big surprise. We only had a short time together before my plane, but it sure made me want to come back for another visit and stay longer. And as a matter of fact, there's another film festival there in March that I am planning to send my movie to. I mean, heck who needs another excuse to go to Austin, but wouldn't it be cool if I could go there because my movie's being shown in the festival?

So if any of you know of any film festivals in your area, let me know and I'll apply. And if you have an empty couch in your living room, save me a spot -- I may be needing it.

I hope everyone is doing well.

Love, Hollywood Dick

Saturday, September 15, 2001

10 Zillion Light Years



For a couple of days this week I didn't think I would be able to write this month's newsletter. Why bother? What does it matter?

But then I started receiving emails from various people around the country, some just checking in, others expressing concerns & opinions. It felt good to know that so many people out there felt like I did and were able to share their feelings. I started to really appreciate the Internet as a tool for expression and communication that may help in the healing process. It isn't just for porn anymore!

My main concern at the beginning of the week was to get a copy of my movie in the mail by Friday to be placed in consideration for an upcoming film festival in New York. On Tuesday, it didn't seem all that important anymore. Then I talked to my sister, Susan, about a poetry reading she gave last week. She brought together a diverse group of people from her community and involved them in a truly positive creative experience. She even got some of them to sing. Many of those who attended thanked her afterwards and told her that she had inspired them to go out and be creative themselves. I realized that I had a responsibility to continue working on my movie, even moreso than before. A responsibility not only to myself but to my community. Creation in the face of destruction is as essential as breathing in after breathing out.

My cousin Blake has been working on the final "print" of the movie for the past two weeks, in between his other assignments. Blake is a colorist at a big post-production company here in Hollywood. He looks at a film or tape and runs it through some highly sophisticated color-enhancing equipment and adjusts things like tone and hue and tint and contrast and a whole spectrum of colors, making sure each scen is properly balanced and color-correct. I finally got to see what he had done with Dante's View late thursday night at the end of his shift. I was amazed. The changes Blake made went far beyond color balance and correction to include evocation of mood and enrichment of texture. He created an internal palette that gave the movie a cohesive color logic of its own. And he made my many mis-matched cuts look seamless. We made a VHS copy of the movie and I got it in the mail on Friday, just under the deadline. It was another example of discovering how much generosity and talent people have and being fortunate to tap into it.

I think there are tremendous resources within us all that have been untapped for too long. I think we are beginning to see some evidence of that in the response to Tuesday's nightmare. The human spirit has always thrived when confronted with adversity. There may be no greater test of that ability than the one we now face.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of all will be our attempt to reach understanding with people we now perceive as evil. If we are to meet that challenge, it will require every inner resource we have. But most of all, it will require creativity. The world is what we make it and it is time for us to make it new. Every act of creation is a step in the right direction.

I was listening to Stevie Wonder the other day and I heard something that I felt I needed to share with everyone I knew.


Here's what Stevie said:

"They say that Heaven is ten zillion light years away,

But if there is a God, we need Him now
'Where is your God?' That's what my friends ask me
And I say it's taken Him so long
'Cause we've got so far to come

But in my heart I can feel it
Feel His spirit...
If you open your heart you can feel it..."

I hope everyone can feel it.

Love, Rich

p.s. To those of you in New York, my thoughts have been with you all week. If you get the chance, I'd love to here how you're doing.

Friday, August 24, 2001

Letter to the Editor



Making a movie takes a lot of work. It requires the combined efforts of a small army of professionals, camera operators, electricians, sound technicians, lighting technicians, makeup artists, production assistants, set designers and builders, property masters, caterers, drivers... not to mention actors, directors, producers, writers, and a hundred others. But in the end, it all comes down to one person: the editor.

Now, we didn't exactly have an army working on our movie, most of the time we just had me and Jon. But we have just as many editors as any big-budget, star-studded, Oscar winning, box-office blockbuster: We have one. And his name is Mike Kessler.

I met Mike while I was on jury duty and was first putting together the notes for Dante's View. I had picked up an old copy of the Longfellow translation of the Inferno and was reading it during the breaks. As the judge interviewed each juror, my ears perked up when I heard one guy say that he had recently graduated from film school. 'Hmm...,' I thought, 'maybe he could help me figure out how to shoot my movie.'

We spent a lot of time sitting in the hallway outside court while the lawyers argued points of law and evidence. Mike always had his palm pilot out, and everyone wanted to see how it worked. To me it was amazing how a tiny wireless, hand-held computer could access the internet and download text, pictures, even music, from right there in the hallway of the courthouse. To Mike it was completely normal.

At film school, Mike had learned to use the latest cutting-edge editing software and he urged me to shoot my movie on digital video to fully take advantage of the new technology. He even advised me on what kind of camera to buy. His enthusiasm and familiarity with the 'state-of-the-art' convinced me to take the plunge. I bought the camera, plus some lenses and microphones and was committed to going digital.

I gave myself a crash-course in digital cinematography and picked up some "sound" advice from friend of Jon's who happens to be an audio technician, and all of a sudden I was on the forefront of independent digital moviemaking. But all the while I was planning, preparing and shooting, I kept wondering, "How's this all going to get put together?"

The answer is called Final Cut Pro. That's the software Mike learned how to use and it is fast becoming the method of choice among professional editors. The only problem was we needed a fast, powerful computer to run it on. Specifically, we needed a Macintosh G3 or G4. We thought we would be able to "borrow" one but it soon became apparent that in order to spend the amount of time we'd need to do justice to the project, someone would have to buy one. That's where our producer (me) stepped in and literally doubled our budget (i.e. my Mastercard balance.)

We set up the computer in a spare bedroom in Mike's grandparent's house in Studio City (they live next to Tiffani Thiessen) where we have spent the past eleven days staying up very late editing together all of the various clips that are scattered across five hours of mini-DV tape. The software really makes it seem easy once you get the hang of it and we've been able to accomplish a tremendous amount of work in a relatively short time. But without Mike, it would have been impossible. Whenever I freak out at computer (which is often,) whenever I don't know if a scene is working or not (which is always,) whenever I am tired and punchy and we're right in the middle of an edit and I can't remember what we're supposed to do next (which happens every night about midnight,) Mike somehow keeps it together, suffers patiently through my paranoid-obsessive, borderline psychotic yammering and puts us back on track.

The editing room is where the movie really takes shape. Having someone there who not only keeps things grounded but also encourages taking risks is a great asset. But most of all it's a hell of a lot of fun. It's cool to watch as the pieces of the puzzle come together. It's exhilarating when you pull off a really slick piece of manipulation. And best of all, having the opportunity to do something you really love with someone who shares your passion and is having just as much fun as you are makes it not seem like work at all. Mike has, from the very start, been a key factor in making this dream come true and in the best way possible. Plus he's working for nothing, which is nice.

Anyway, even though the screen credit will just say "Editor," I wanted to share a little more of what my friend Mike has contributed to this project.

Thanks Mike.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Sunday, July 15, 2001

"Action!"


We wrapped principle photography on Dante's View last Wednesday at noon. The location was Ago, an Italian restaurant in West Hollywood that is a favorite among movie stars, partly because it is co-owned by Robert DeNiro, Christopher Walken and several other Hollywood heavyweights. The scene was a meeting between the main character, played by Jon Sperry and a woman he has been trying to set up a deal with, played by Ivana Massetti. Jon and Ivana are friends with one of the waiters at Ago and he got us permission to shoot there. So there I am, shooting a scene from a movie I wrote with two of my closest friends in one of the hippest spots in town, saying things like "Cut" and "Action" and "That's a wrap." It was soooo cool!

I had to learn a hell of a lot during my week as a "director." One of the first things I had to learn occurred on the first take of the first day of shooting. We were in a parking lot behind a Sav-On drug store doing a scene where Jon's character encounters a homeless woman. At the beginning of the scene I ask the actors if they're ready. They nod. I frame the scene and start shooting. But nothing happens. Nobody moves. Then Jon says to me: "Uh, there's a particular word you're supposed to say..." Who me? Oh yeah, I'm the director... "Action!" I bark, and off we go.

The woman playing the homeless woman is a beautiful actress with shining hair and piercing blue eyes named Linda Michaels. When she showed up on set that morning I took one look at her and thought she looks way to good to be a homeless woman. What am I going to do? Linda told me not to worry. She went over to the edge of the parking lot and scooped up a handful dirt from under some bushes and smeared it all over her face. It took several handfuls to hide her good looks but eventually she actually started to look pretty bad. Then she began to get into character and her face literally changed before my eyes, she became older and angrier and a little crazy looking. I was amazed. Even though it was just a small role in a low-low-budget indie flick, she had done some serious preparation. Linda gave me her time and her talent and a little part of her soul and she did it all on faith. I knew that making a movie was a collaborative venture, but I wasn't prepared for the incredible generosity and goodwill that people like Linda were willing to offer me. Another lesson.

The next morning we were scheduled to shoot in another parking lot, behind a Radio Shack on Sunset Blvd. I went up there early to stake out our turf and within minutes I was told by the owner of the lot that I had to leave. You see, I never really did ask for permission. I did speak with the lot attendant one afternoon and he seemed agreeable. I'm not sure if he spoke English, but he seemed agreeable. Anyway now I'm in a slight panic. I have another actress on her way to meet me to shoot the "Hooker" scene and I have no location. I improvise. I tell her to meet me at my house because we are going to change locations to somewhere better. Actually I have no idea where we are going. Fortunately, the actress, Patti Troisi, is really cool and as we drive over to meet Jon and Ivana I tell her that it's no problem because according to Sidney Lumet's book the accidents and mistakes always lead to the most interesting results.

Anyway, we pull up outside Jon & Ivana's place and they climb into the Lincoln Navigator I've rented for the week. We are about start off toward the unknown location when Ivana tells me to stop. Why don't we use the parking garage under their building? There is a frosted glass window right in front of their parking space which offers excellent lighting. We go in and check it out and it works great, in fact better than the original location because it offers more privacy. And since we are shooting the "Hooker" scene, a little more privacy wouldn't hurt.

Patti, as you may have guessed, plays the Hooker. Again I was amazed at the amount of work the actors do to prepare for even the briefest moment in their character's life. The situation was potentially awkward, but Patti made it a breeze. She invested her character with attitude and charm and spirit and allowed us to pull off a tricky scene with humor and class. Like Linda, she put her trust in me totally on faith and allowed us to share her unique gift.

It was an added blessing to have Ivana involved. Not only did she contribute ideas and suggestions during the writing of the script, not only did she agree to play the pivotal role of "Christina" in her acting debut, not only did she provide tremendous insight and practical knowledge throughout the production, but she's also a great friend who made this experience so much more exciting and fulfilling just by being there to share it with me and talk about it and plan and strategize and just plain enjoy. Because it was more fun than I would have ever imagined. And when you're having fun, it's even better when you can share it with people you love.

Speaking of which, none of this would ever have happened with Jon. Day after day, take after take, cigarette after cigarette, Jon worked harder than anyone, worked more than anyone, performed far beyond my expectations and really took the whole project to a higher level. And he did it all with smiles and jokes and charm and grace and wit and fun and complete professionalism. For the past two days, I have been looking at the rough footage from what we shot last week and I keep thinking the same thing over and over: "Man, is he making me look good."

A script is only a script, but a performance is a living breathing organism with a life of its own. Jon's performance has given my script a life I never knew that it had. I am very lucky to have had the opportunity to work with Jon and learn from him about what an actor can do. Because a good actor makes all the difference in the world. And for all I've learned in the past week, the most important thing is that there is a whole lot more for me to learn. But I am hooked for life on this gig and I'm going to keep on doing this until I get it right.

But first, I have to learn how to edit.

Love, HWD

Dante's View - Stills











Friday, June 15, 2001

Dante's View



A few weeks ago, I flew to Connecticut to see my sister Susan's new house, catch up with Mom & Dad on their way up to Maine, see my niece before she returned to Vermont, hang out with the rest of the family, and drop in at my 20th Reunion at Wesleyan.

One thing that's pretty cool about Wes Reunions is that they have all these fascinating seminars hosted by various alumni on a wide range of topics like The Melting Polar Ice Cap, Galactic Cannibalism, and A Touch of Terpsichore. (I don't know what it is either.) But by far the most popular of all the seminars was the one that featured West Wing star and fellow classmate Brad Whitford.

Brad's seminar, which also included producer Paul Schiff and writer Kaylie Jones was about surviving Hollywood with your soul intact. The big question on most people's minds, however, was: Will President Bartlett seek a second term? Brad's answer -- "We all thought it was pretty obvious."

Another well attended seminar, which directly followed Brad's (an excellent time slot) was all about The Closest Presidential Election in History and starred publisher Alberto Ibarguen, lawyer Steven Meyer and political writer and fellow classmate Dan Haar. During the election, Dan had been in the thick of things down in Palm Beach and at the seminar he related his views on the fickle nature of national media attention and the even fickler nature of the American voter. (Fickler?) But the big question on everyone's mind was: Will President Bush seek a second term? Dan's answer -- "He thinks this is his second term." Just kidding.

Both Brad and Dan were impressive examples of successful men in the prime of their careers. It was interesting to see how they had both evolved over the past twenty years, having journeyed so far and yet retaining the sense of wonder and enthusiasm that set them on their paths so long ago. I couldn't help comparing myself to them. Not always a good idea.

Just after graduation, Dan went right to work as a photojournalist at the Hartford Courant. He had already worked for the Courant as a stringer during college and knew exactly where he was headed. Brad, meanwhile, attended the prestigious Julliard acting school where he refined the craft he'd studied both at Wesleyan and in high school. I moved to San Diego, California and got a job in a store selling soap.

In the mid-eighties, Brad worked in New York playing in everything from Shakespeare to Sam Shepard and also bagged a few TV appearances. Dan had become one of the top photographers at the Courant. I was living with my parents.

Brad's first film role was as the boyfriend in Adventures in Babysitting opposite Elisabeth Shue. He went on play many other roles, most of which he categorizes as "Yuppie Scum" alongside such greats as Robert DeNiro, Harrison Ford, Al Pacino, Tom Hanks, Kevin Costner, Clint Eastwood and Albert Brooks.

Dan was involved in a tug of war between two departments, as someone in the editorial department had seen a sample of his writing and wanted to hire him on as a writer. The photo editor didn't want to let him go and wouldn't let him do both. Ultimately, Dan chose writing. Not many people have what it takes to make it as a professional news photographer, and professional journalism certainly isn't any less competitive. Dan had the skill and talent to succeed in either field and probably could have done both.

After trying my hand as a singer-songwriter playing for tips (or for no tips) in Washington D.C., I moved to Brooklyn where I soon added Unemployed Freelance Writer to my list of accomplishments. It was during this time that I read my first screenplay and decided that Unemployed Screenwriter would be my new calling.

While appearing in A Few Good Men on Broadway, Brad met writer Aaron Sorkin. Later, while developing West Wing, Sorkin created the role of Josh with Brad in mind. Finally, Brad has the opportunity to show the range of talent he has been developing throughout his career. He has paid his dues and now he is reaping the well-deserved rewards.

Dan has his own weekly column in the Courant which focuses on economic issues but he also seems to be doing double duty as a political writer. He recently won an Excellence in Journalism Award, although he dismisses its importance. He has been a journalist ever since the day I met him twenty-four years ago and he continues to strive for a personal excellence that far outshines any award or accolade.

Me, I moved to L.A. to try and make it in the movie biz. Met some people. Sent out some scripts. Went to some parties. Met some more people. Sent out some more scripts... But now I'm working on something new.


Instead of just writing movies, I have decided to make them. I recently completed a script for a short movie loosely based on Dante's Inferno, but set in modern-day Hollywood. The star is long-time pal and fellow classmate Jon Sperry. I just purchased a digital video camera which I am learning to use (because digital is the wave of the future.) I have scouted my locations, hooked up with an editor, gotten permission to use some music and even done some test shots. The idea is to enter the short in as many film festival competitions as possible and use it as a calling card to get myself better known. At some point I may also have it posted on IFilm.com so anyone can log on and see it online. It's kind of exciting.

Lately I realized that I've been making movies all my life. In fact, when I was in high-school I made several short films including a comedy version of Man For All Seasons and a kind of pre-MTV rock video version of Siddhartha. Mostly though, I just made movies that played in my head. All sorts of movies -- some short, some that went on for months. And everything I've done has been part of that process. And now that technology has finally caught up with me I'm able to make those movies a reality. But for starters, I'm going to stick to the short ones. The first one is called Dante's View. I should be finished with it by the end of the summer.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Happy Dad's Day to the Dads.

See Memento.

Love, HWD

Tuesday, May 15, 2001

My Mom



Here are some of my favorite Mom stories:

The Egg

When I was a kid, I didn't like eggs. Not that I had ever actually eaten or even tasted one. I just didn't like the way they looked, or smelled. Yuck. But my parents were always trying to get us to try new things. 'Just taste it, you may find you like it. As you get older your taste buds develop.' Not my taste buds.

One sleepy spring morning I shuffled down to the kitchen where Mom was fixing my breakfast before sending us off to school. I sat down at the table expecting my usual bowl of Cocoa Puffs or Cap'n Crunch. Instead I was shocked to find a horrible yellow eyeball staring up at me. It was an egg. Sunny side up -- the most disgusting of all. A quivering bulbous mass of icky yellow stuff rising from a creepy circle of fried white gunk.

'Just taste it,' my Mom said. 'Just take one bite. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat any more. I just want you to try one little taste.' It was early and my defenses were down. And her request seemed fairly reasonable. Plus she was being so nice about it. She had a big smile on her face.

So I tried it. One little bite. I scooped up some of the white gunk with my fork and cautiously put it in my mouth. It was... Wonderful! Sweet and creamy and... cold?

I looked at my Mom. 'It's good,' I admitted. Mom laughed: 'April Fool! It's ice cream! And the yolk is an apricot!' 'Huh?' I didn't get it. 'It's not an egg?' 'No,' she said, 'I wouldn't give you an egg for breakfast, you hate eggs.'

I finished up my ice cream egg, one of the best breakfasts I've ever had, and went off to school where I told my friends about how my cool Mom played an April Fool's trick on me. Everyone was amazed.

The funny thing was, after that I wasn't afraid of eating eggs anymore, and eventually grew to enjoy them. But now I have them scrambled. Sunny side up still looks a little creepy to me.

The Shy Kid

When we kids were all in high school, my Mom decided to get a part-time job. As a graduate of the Katherine Gibbs Secretarial School she had no problem getting a position with a local psychologist who needed an assistant.

The psychologist worked out of a restored log cabin behind his house and Mom's desk was in the outer room that also served as the patient waiting area. Most of the people who came in to see the Doc ended up talking with my Mom before they went in.

One time this kid showed up who seemed very withdrawn. He was a little early for his appointment so Mom had a little more time with him than usual. She tried to make him comfortable, asked him a few simple questions -- the usual stuff. But this kid seemed really reluctant to talk. Mom didn't give up though, eventually she can get anyone to open up. Finally the kid warmed up to her and she got him to share a few things about himself. By then it was time for his appointment.

After his session was over and the kid's mother had picked him up, the Doc came out and stood in front of Mom's desk. 'What the hell did you say to that kid?' Mom immediately assumed she had crossed some doctor-patient boundary or breached some confidentiality. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I was just trying to make him comfortable. He seemed so shy.' The Doc was astounded: 'He's not shy, he's autistic. He's been coming here for years and I haven't ever gotten so much as a peep out of him. Fifteen minutes with you and suddenly he's chatting away. It was a tremendous breakthrough. What did you say to him?'

Mom tried to remember what she had done that was so special. 'I don't know,' she said, 'all I did was talk to him like anyone else.' The Doc shook his head. 'Why didn't I think of that.'

Mom stayed with the Doc for several years. Even though she didn't have a degree, she probably knew more about psychology than most PhD's. They don't have a school for Moms. But if they did, my Mom would have graduated summa cum laude.

Blue Ice

My Dad has an old college buddy who has made a ton of money over the years. Now that he's near retirement, he's been spending it on his friends. Every year he takes a bunch of them on some really cool trip like rafting through the Grand Canyon or a train trip through Baja California. One trip they took was a cruise to Alaska.

Most of the activities on the cruise involve looking at all the cool stuff you can see from the boat, like whales and eagles and icebergs. Unfortunately, most of the trip the weather was kind of gloomy and rainy and there weren't many eagles around and it was hard to find the whales. My Dad's buddy was a little disappointed, having brought all these folks out to Alaska just to watch it rain. But they all stood out on deck anyway to see what they could see.

One of the things they did see were these amazingly beautiful ice formations. The ice took on an incredible blue color that almost seemed to be lit from within. The guide pointed out that in the bright sunlight, this color would be nearly impossible to see, but in the cloudy half-light it really stood out. My Mom turned to my Dad's buddy and said, 'We're so lucky to have been out here on a day like this or we never would have seen this beautiful blue ice.' He smiled with absolute delight, 'Pattie,' he said, 'I love you. I wouldn't make another one of these trips without you.'

Of course after that the sun did come out and they saw whales and eagles and lots of great sights. But my Mom's favorite was still the blue ice on the rainy day.

Happy Mom's Day

Love, Rich

Sunday, April 15, 2001

Bluebonnets


Two weeks ago I flew to Austin for David Hamburger's wedding. The last time I was in Austin was about 18 years ago when my sister lived there. I spent about a year there building swimming pools with my then brother-in-law. It was great to go back and see the place, and especially for such a wonderful occasion. There was something special about this wedding, maybe it was the people, maybe it was the place, maybe it was the timing, maybe it was the bluebonnets...

I was met at the airport by my old pals Kevin and Rob -- we were all in men's group with Dave back in New York. We adopted Texas nicknames for the weekend: Bubba, Hoss and Slim. I was Hoss.
We hung out around the hotel that afternoon, eyeing babes by the rooftop pool and resting up for the rehearsal dinner. As you can well imagine, three pale/balding/paunchy forty-year-olds made quite a hit with the ladies.


At the rehearsal dinner we got split up, being singletons. The best man took it quite well when I suggested he seat me next to his sexy Cuban wife. I ended up sitting across the room.

During the toasts, the bride's younger sister got up and read a letter written by the bride several years ago, listing all of the qualities a man would need to have before she would consider marrying him. It sounded like she had written it coming off of a bad relationship and was trying to conjure up the perfect mate by way of contrast. It was pretty funny and probably pretty embarrassing, except the weird thing was, Dave really was the guy she described -- her perfect man.

After dinner we had drinks on the balcony of the Stephen F. Austin Hotel and flirted with the best man's sexy Cuban wife, who turned out to be a lawyer from Cornell. By the end of the evening we were all smitten and/or drunk. Fortunately it was a short walk back to the hotel.

The next day I hooked up with Bob Sweeney who was my roommate in San Diego before I went to Austin and in D.C., before I went to Brooklyn. Bob is a lawyer also, who works for the state of Texas defending shrimp. He is married with two boys and looks like he could beat me in a roadrace without even trying. We had lunch with another old roomie, Johnny Goodman, who is also married and a father and living in Austin.

In case you hadn't noticed, there seems to be a pattern emerging here: Everyone's married.


The wedding of David Hamburger to Catherine Berry took place at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center just south of Austin. The setting was incredible. The ceremony took place outside, surrounded by fields of blooming wildflowers. The reception was in a Spanish-style courtyard with fountains and more flowers and some really excellent music. It felt like we had been transported out of the present to a timeless place where all the things you hope are true really are true and all of the things you worry about don't exist.

It was all a little too much for me, so after dinner I went and sat on a bench outside the courtyard and looked out at the wildflowers.
The bluebonnet is the state flower of Texas. The legend says that many years ago, before the white man came, the hill country was home to the Comanche Nation.

One year there was a great drought that brought famine to the Comanche. Many died that year. The people prayed and prayed to the Great Spirit, but there was no relief. The medicine man went up into the hills seeking a vision to tell them what to do. When he returned, he told the people that they must build a great bonfire and cast into it their most cherished possessions as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit.

The bonfire was lit, but when it came time for the people to give up their possessions, they hesitated. Their possessions meant too much to them, they did not want to give them up.

One young girl watched as the others turned away from the fire, unable to make the sacrifice. She was thinking of her own most cherished possession. It was a cornhusk doll made by her mother and decorated with a headdress made from bluejay feathers collected by her father. The doll meant the world to the little girl because it was all she had left of her family. Both her parents had died in the famine. But they had always taught her to think of others and not be selfish. She knew that the drought must end before others lost their loved ones.

She went back to the tent to get the doll and waited until everyone else had left the bonfire. The she walked over the fire and with a final look the beautiful blue feathers, she flung it into the fire.

That night the rains came, and they kept up for days. When they finally ended and the sun came out, the people came out of their tents and were amazed to see all around them the fields were covered with thousands and thousands of azure flowers. When the little girls saw the flowers, she knew that the Great Spirit had accepted her sacrifice and given this gift in return.

And each spring the beautiful blue flowers bloom again in remembrance of the little girl who gave life to her people.

Years ago, when I was a kid, I was in a group called the Indian Guides. One summer night we had a big bonfire and we were supposed to bring our favorite toy and throw it into the fire. I didn't want to do it. I cheated. I picked out a toy that I didn't really care about and pretended it was my favorite. To this day I still remember the toy I threw into the fire, but I'll be damned if I can remember the one I kept -- even though it was my favorite. I wish I could remember it, because I think it's about time I threw it away.

When I got back to the party, I went up to this lovely young woman named Sam and asked her to dance. We ended up dancing the rest of the night. I never even got her last name. Slim disappeared with a blond psychologist from L.A. and we didn't see him until much later. Bubba and I helped the bride's family pack up the presents. I collected a bunch of roses and gave them to Sam. Bubba and I were about the last ones to leave.

Thank you Catherine and David for reminding me of how sometimes things can be the way I hope they are. I wish you all the best.

Love, HWD

Thursday, March 15, 2001

Guilty



A couple of weeks ago I finished up a month-long stint on jury duty. I was pleased to fulfill my civic duty, and tried to do my best to uphold the principles of our slow-grinding yet fair-minded system of justice, ever mindful of the tremendous responsibility I faced, deciding the ultimate fate of another human being. Plus it beats working for a living.

One of the reasons I was picked for this case was because my employer pays my salary no matter how long my jury duty lasts. It's kind of a goodwill thing that some law firms do. Since this case was scheduled for three weeks, they had trouble finding people who could afford to serve. A friend of mine at work considers jury duty part of her benefits package.

As an added bonus, the case was fascinating: The defendant, Jim, was accused of assaulting his hooker/drug-addict girlfriend, Joy, with a toilet plunger and threatening to inject her with hydrochloric acid. Jim thought Joy was sleeping with a cop named Todd and that she was ratting on him. Fortunately, Joy had called 911 and the cops arrived before he was able to follow through on his threat. Jim was tossed in jail, where he became acquainted with a fellow inmate called "Clown."

Clown is a member of the notorious 18th Street gang where he was a fairly successful hit-man, having racked up 15-20 contract killings in his day. He has never been arrested for any of those killings, however and was in jail on a rape charge. He was just the kind of guy Jim was looking for.

Jim asked Clown to get in touch with Topo, the head of the Mexican Mafia, to arrange to have Joy and Todd "taken care of." Jim passed Clown handwritten notes with information and instructions on how to carry out the murders. They used notes because they (rightfully) feared that the jail cells were bugged. Clown, however, wasn't too sure if he could trust Jim. And besides, being a family man, Clown had decided to try and turn his life around and maybe get away from the whole murder and rape thing. He decided to pass the notes to a deputy and then agreed to continue to play along to help the police nab Jim in the act.

Jim, meanwhile, got in touch with a drug-addled, dimwitted single mom named Renee to act as his liaison on the outside. Clown was supposed to get the hit man to call Renee, who would then pass along information and take care of the "fee." Only the guy who called Renee wasn't a real hit man, he was an undercover cop who called himself "Silent," and all the calls were being taped. Apparently, Renee found Silent's voice overwhelmingly appealing and could barely keep her mind on the job at hand as she flagrantly offered her sexual services to this complete stranger who professed to be a hired killer and who was in fact gathering evidence that could put her away for many years.

Do you start to get the feeling that these lowlife losers are lowlife losers for a reason?

To her credit, when they played the tapes back in open court, Renee did at least appear somewhat embarrassed.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting there listening to all of this with fourteen other people (three alternates) and I'm just dying to tell someone -- anyone! But you're NOT ALLOWED TO TALK ABOUT IT. Not even with the other jurors, the people you see every day, have lunch with, sit next to, walk to the parking garage with, and who are practically the only other people in the world who would not only understand you, but would be able to talk about it too. Who came up with this ridiculous system? It's unhealthy. Don't they know what can happen to a person when they have a really great story to tell and they aren't allowed to tell anyone? That's how people develop personality disorders and imaginary friends. Believe me it took all my resolve and discipline to last a whole month.

Finally the case ended and they put us into the jury room for deliberation. We had all of the evidence in front of us, including the handwritten notes and the taped phone calls. But what it came down to was, whom did we believe.

The prosecution had plenty of witnesses: Joy the hooker who admitted that she was shooting up each day before court, that is until she O.D.'d and ended up in the hospital where she was promptly arrested on another charge and wound up in county jail. There was Joey the alcoholic stool-pigeon who used to show up at Renee's house completely wasted and waving a gun around in front of her kids. There was Jeff the burnout who picked up Joy one night and the next morning awoke to find her psychotic ex-boyfriend busting down his bathroom door and threatening to shoot her up with acid. We heard from Renee the horny speed-freak who testified that she was only coming on to Silent because she wanted him to do her a favor and kill Joey too. And there was Clown, who is now serving a life sentence for rape but apparently has gotten away with murder so many times he can't count them all. The prosecution also had several cops, a handwriting expert and a woman from the phone company.

The defense had one main witness: Jim. He had an explanation for everything and most of what he said was plausible. But there was something about his story -- it was too good. It reminded me of writing a screenplay, how you have to make sure everything fits together and all the loose ends are tied up and nothing comes out of nowhere. And he was masterful. But when we got into the jury room, everyone felt the same way I did: Jim was a lying sack of shit. We didn't believe a single word. The drugged-out morons and degenerate scum were far more convincing.

We deliberated for about a day and found Jim guilty on every count. According to the D.A. he should be looking at about twenty years. It felt pretty good to help get that scumbag off the streets. I was proud to have done my part. Now I'm back at the law firm helping big fat insurance companies keep their big fat reserves to themselves. It's not quite as satisfying as my experience on jury duty. But we do have a great dental plan.

Be good.

Love, HWD

Thursday, February 15, 2001

Dad


Last month was my father's 70th birthday and my sisters and I went down to Florida to surprise him. Months of planning and preparation were required to pull off such a feat -- the logistics, the coordination, the split-second timing needed to snag half a dozen super-saver airline tickets, all required that we set aside our day-to-day concerns and focus on something more important. And we all rose to the occasion like a pennant-winning baseball team. But it was not always thus.

Several years ago, on the occasion of my Mom's 60th, my Dad planned a big party for her and asked us to come down and surprise her on the day of the party. The plan was to rent a van, load it up with me and my sisters and their families, and spend a leisurely two days getting there, arriving the evening of the party fresh and perky and ready for action.

However, due to some credit card problems, the van we thought had rented was suddenly unavailable hours before we were supposed to pick it up. After some twenty-four hours of frantic phone calls to every rental agency in Connecticut as well as several panic-stricken calls to Florida, last minute transportation was procured.

Without a minute to lose, we piled into the van and drove thirty hours straight through from Woodbury Conn. to Osprey Fla., arriving less than an hour before the party, bleary-eyed, burned out and bedraggled. But, we made it -- the party was a huge success, and Mom was completely surprised.

The fact that Dad was able to keep the secret from her, especially after our string of nervous calls the day before, was impressive, but not unexpected. Dad is the kind of guy who plays it close to the vest -- he's not known for sudden outbursts of unbridled emotion. Growing up, one of our favorite stories was the one about the (one) time when Dad laughed. Out loud. He's a pretty cool customer. Not so with Mom.

Several times during the month before Dad's 70th, I'd be on the phone with Mom, discussing the details of the upcoming covert operation (code name -- 'Dad's Birthday'), when all of a sudden her voice would get really loud and unnaturally formal -- Dad was passing through the room. "O.K.," she'd say "I'll take three boxes of the thin mints and two boxes of peanut butter." Good one, Mom (it's 11 p.m., her time). Dad of course, would be completely oblivious to the charade. In fact his only comment was: "Do they still have the ones with the coconut sprinkles?"

Miraculously, and thanks in no small part to my father's complete lack of awareness of virtually everything around him, Mom kept the secret and the airlines did not go on strike and the rental car we reserved was actually there. We all arrived fresh and perky and ready for a week of birthday fun, and Dad was totally surprised.

We did all of the typical 70th birthday stuff: mini-golf, go-cart racing, ski-ball, video games, lunch at McDonald's. Somehow Dad's favorite things to do were exactly the same things that his grandsons like to do.

In fact, for as long as I can remember, my Dad has spent his most of his time doing the things the rest of the family likes to do. He spent most of his money on us too. When it comes time to buy him a birthday present, I never know what to get him. He never seems to need or want anything for himself. But seeing him surrounded by his family, having a hot dog at the video arcade, I realized that he had all he ever wanted.

Happy Birthday Dad.

Love, Rich

Monday, January 15, 2001

Wisdom


As one gets older, certain things get left behind. Hair, for example. Also muscle tone, memory, flexibility, stamina, fearlessness, growth hormone... The list is painfully long. In exchange however, one also gains certain things. Like a bulging gut. But there are also some positive gains. Unfortunately I can't remember most of them. I did manage to write one down on the back of a credit card receipt -- actually that reminds me of another one: Credit. But the one I wrote down was: "Wisdom."

The receipt was for a motel room at the Furnace Creek Ranch in Death Valley, where Brian and I went for New Year's weekend this year. As some of you may remember, we made our original pilgrimage to DV two years ago on New Year's Eve. The memory of being turned away from the Furnace Creek Ranch after having driven all night and hiked all day, prompted me to make reservations months in advance, just in case we decided to make the trip again. Wisdom.

Having made the reservations, the decision to make the trip was almost a no-brainer. We thought it would be cool to invite some friends to come with us. Female friends. Brian asked a couple of women from his office and I sent an invitation via email to a woman I know. Brian's friends never seemed fully committed to the idea, they seemed to want to leave it up in the air. As for my friend, I have yet to hear back from her. Anyway we decided not to wait for the females to make a decision -- who needs them anyway? They would only slow us down. We decided to head out on our own. Just the guys. No strings, no encumbrances. Wisdom.

The drive out was great: the open road, the blue sky, the miles and miles of snail's-pace Las Vegas New Year's weekend traffic. Fortunately, we'd been this route before and turned off the interstate onto state highway 395, which runs through the middle of nowhere, past the Federal Prison Ranch and the Artillery Testing Range, to the west boundary of Death Valley National Park. At about sunset, somewhere outside the town of Trona, I remembered that I had forgotten to pack my L.L. Bean hiking boots. Oh, well -- no turning back now. What's done is done, no sense worrying about it -- I'll just have to make do. I laughed it off. Wisdom.

We checked in at Furnace Creek Ranch, ate a wholesome dinner at the '49er Cafe, went for a relaxing swim in the geothermically-heated spring-fed swimming pool and finished off with a few beers at the Corkscrew Saloon. Then back to our comfortable room to rest up for a day of hiking and adventure. This was the life -- sure beats freezing your ass off in the front seat of a Nissan Sentra at four a.m. in the middle of a casino parking lot. Wisdom.

Our first destination the next morning was the famous Death Valley Sand Dunes, an easy two-mile hike from the side of the highway to a series of graceful, undulating dunes, some reaching 80 feet in height. We hiked out to the highest dune, took some pictures and chatted with the other hikers for a bit. Some kids were running, jumping, rolling and tumbling down the steep side of the dune, which sloped around to form a giant bowl that might have been the world's biggest sand box. It sure looked like they were having fun. I remembered doing the same thing with my sisters on some dunes out on Cape Cod a very, very, very long time ago.

Brian decide to give it a try. He took a running start and dove head first down the slope, hurtling ass-over-teakettle down the sandy incline. He ground to a halt about halfway down and sat up -- slowly. He looked a little dazed. I called down and asked if he was all right. He waved back. His confused look and jerky movements convinced me that he was fine. I decided to walk down. Wisdom.

After a picnic lunch, Brian suggested we try to find Little Bridge Canyon, which was purportedly located on the other side of the highway from the dunes. We headed up a broad and rocky "alluvial fan" towards what we thought was the mouth of the canyon. The alluvial fan, when viewed from the highway, looks like a wide, flat, fan-shaped ramp that leads directly into the mouth of the canyon. In the desert, however, perspective and distance make molehills out of mountains.

We proceeded to trudge up the fan for two or three miles. Turns out it is actually not so flat and is covered with razor-sharp rocks and riven with steep, treacherous gulches. Plus, we couldn't seem to find the damn canyon. We had now turned east and were attempting to cross the breadth of the fan, but kept running into more freakin' ravines. Eventually we hit one that was nearly a hundred feet deep. There was no getting across, and to go around in either direction would have taken almost as much time as we'd already spent. The highway was a faint grey thread below us and the car was a microscopic speck. And the sun was going down. Brian didn't want to give up. We'd come this far. We must be getting close. It was time to make a decision...

Sometimes on the way to your goal you find something you weren't expecting that is even better than what you were looking for. But sometimes you don't. Sometimes you don't reach your goal at all. Sometimes you just have to give up looking. And that is true wisdom.

We headed back to the car and drove up to the general store at Stovepipe Wells where I got a can of tuna and a shot glass. Before the sun went down we took one more hike to a place called Mosaic Canyon. We hiked part way in, but it got dark pretty fast and we had to turn back.

When we got to the motel, we went straight for the pool and man did it feel great. We even met a couple of women there and asked them what their plans were for New Year's. They said they were going over to Furnace Creek Inn (the ritzier cousin to the F.C. Ranch). I said, "Oh, is there a party there?" The dark-haired one said, "Maybe." Then they left. I paid them no heed. Who needs 'em anyway?

We went back to our room to change, but before heading over to the Corkscrew Saloon to ring in the New Year, I broke out the tequila and we duly inaugurated my brand new souvenir Death Valley shot glass. I'd even had the foresight to bring a couple of limes. Wisdom.

On the way out of the park the next day, we stopped at the Ranger Station and grilled several of the Rangers as to the exact whereabouts of the so-called "Little Bridge Canyon." They admitted that it was a tricky place to find, and even after pulling out several topo maps and detailed trail guides, offered us little in the way of satisfaction. One of the Rangers, a cute young woman named Kathy, did suggest another hike that was on our way and not too time consuming. It was called Darwin Falls.

Despite the fact that Kathy was very sweet and had a beautiful smile, I checked the maps and guidebooks myself to verify the fact that Darwin Falls was not another one of their imaginary destinations designed to lure unwary hikers into dangerous and life-threatening situations whose sole purpose was to validate the budget and payroll for the Park Service's Emergency Rescue Squad. It seemed to check out, so we decided to have one more mini-adventure before heading home. In this way we would make up for the disappointment suffered the day before and end our journey on an up note. Wisdom.

Darwin Falls was right where they said it would be, and after a short but interesting hike through a winding canyon, we reached a beautiful oasis in the middle of the wasteland. A thirty foot waterfall spilled down steep rock walls into a crystal pool in the middle of a peaceful sylvan glade.

About twenty feet above us, along the canyon wall, we saw two women coming down a trail. Still in the mood for adventure, we decide to see where the trail went. On our way up we met the two women and they turned out to be the same women we met at the pool the night before. We said hello and wished them happy new year. The dark-haired one told us that the trail led up the side of the canyon to a much bigger waterfall. Since there seemed to be several possible avenues of ascent available, I asked her if the one we were headed for was the one she had determined to be the best choice. She said, "Kind of." Then they left.

Armed with dubious advice, we started our ascent. The trail was steep, often slippery and at times required some rock-climbing ability. At one point, Brian turned to me and asked, "Is this worth dying for?" I shrugged.

We were up a couple hundred feet above the canyon floor, clinging to the jagged rock face in the failing light, trying to decide if we should continue. Since I was now in front, I edged out along an outcropping of rock and peered around to see if I could see what lay ahead. All I saw was a flat promontory, jutting out into the canyon. It didn't look like much, but it seemed like as good a place as any to turn around. Besides, we might get some kind of view from there.

We reached the promontory and turned around to see an incredible sight: a stream of water pouring forth from a notch in the rock about a hundred feet above us and falling unimpeded for another two hundred feet nearly straight down and out of sight to the floor of the canyon far below. The canyon walls loomed around us, steep and sheer, chiseled by nature from the dark, hard rock. There was no other place on earth from which to view this sight. The canyon walls were too high and offered no other access, except to the birds. It was exhilarating and awe-inspiring. The perfect end to our adventure.

We stayed for a few minutes as the light grew dimmer, just long enough to take some pictures and build a cairn to mark out achievement. Then we headed back, hoping we would remember the way.

Sometimes on the way to reaching a goal you have to stop and consider if the goal is really worth the effort. But until you reach the goal you may never know its worth. It may turn out to be worth more than you had ever imagined. So, sometimes you just have to take your best guess and proceed on faith. And all the wisdom in the world won't help you if you don't have faith.

Happy New Year.

Love HWD

Death Valley Gallery - 2001