It’s odd to be on the opposite side of things as Claire now begins kindergarten. We went to meet the teacher two weeks ago, and Claire acted goofy. She hid. She wouldn’t say hello to her classmates who were also there. She sat in her new classroom seat and read a book loudly as if to say “see, I can do this already”.

The first day of school I was blessed to have friends cover my morning classes so I could join Claire and Donna at the elementary school. We were there super early with teacher gifts, kleenex, and cameras in hand. We took photos of Claire on the recess equipment and smiled as her second grade friend ran up to us. We chatted with her teacher and the other kids in the class, too. The first week was all about procedures, rules, and how to pay for lunch. I was eager for her to begin bringing home homework because I knew this was something I was good at doing with her. That week she had no homework.

This week though it was a little different. She had homework every night. For example, one night she had to write the letter “A” over and over again to practice it in some oddly formatted handwriting called dinelian. We also got our first teacher phone class. Claire was being gregarious and was moved to a solitary table where she broke a handle off a materials carousel. We made her write her teacher and apology and take dollar bills our of her piggy bank to pay for her mistake. It’s Friday now and she’s come a long way in just two weeks. Wednesday she was to recite “Mary Had a Little Lamb” which she did by reading the lyrics online on my Droid. I’ve watched her sit down at her desk when she gets home to do homework or read through directions for other worksheets that weren’t assigned. Sure, there’s been consternation on Claire’s part about not coming to high school with me, as she’s done for four years now, but there’s also the excitement of the day to tell Daddy when I pick her up after kids express.

This summer I had the opportunity to spend a month in my hometown of Pittsburgh, PA. Claire was with me the entire time and spent a good deal of the month visiting our family. I expected more time sitting, watching movies I’ve not seen, and generally being a log lump while working on my lengthy to-do list. I didn’t expect to travel around as much as I did. For example, one week I drove to Lawrence County to visit with my mother’s cousin all day on Monday, road around with my cousin Brian another day to shoot our city, and the third day I went with a friend I’ve not seen in 15 years to photograph another part of the city. Friends surprised us by driving from Virginia for a long weekend, and people I didn’t think I’d see I spent a lot of time with.

Auntie M & Claire on the John Deere in our parent’s backyard.

Claire and I fished at Trax Farm, my uncle and I had some good talks, I drove my mum back and forth to the train each day (so I could have the car), etc… My brother-in-law, Danny, and I installed lighting on my parent’s porch one day and another day we took Claire kayaking, after Donna arrived for two weeks in PA.

While there, we drove to Warren, PA for the fourth of July. I first made this trip 16 years ago with Donna when we first dated, and it was good to see so much of her family, including a cousin we’d not seen since our engagement party in 1999.

I shot many abandoned buildings and captured the history of Pittsburgh from the old farm homesteads out near Bridgeville to asylums in Scotts and New Castle to an old iron mill in Braddock. I also photographed the Strip District and Southside before turning the camera on the families.

I’d never live there again, but I know the true love I have for a city I once took for granted and now miss from time to time. A city that still holds my heart.

We’ve been working hard in the yard (which is an entirely different blog post) and the gate was opened and closed all day Sunday. Most of the time Dante, our dog, was in the dog run but Claire kept letting him out to play with him. We would tell her to put him away, but … well, we all know Claire.

Around 6:00pm Claire and I ran out for a birthday party and got home late. Dante usually sits under Donna’s feet or under the coffee table, so I barely blinked and went to bed. The next morning Claire and I were out the door early and I started getting the texts from Donna about 8:30am. “Dante’s missing!”

By that time Donna had been driving the neighborhood looking for him. Dante’s a very social dog and so he’d be running out to people who were walking dogs and catching school buses; he was doing none of this.

Donna was pretty upset so I headed home at my first break. Immediately I called our vet to find Dante’s chip number (under his skin between his shoulder blades). They didn’t have the number, which concerned me. I called Maricopa Animal and the didn’t even have him registers (ever). Oooppps. I finally did find the chip # and the company who chipped him said they’d send out a pet apb if we paid the full enrollment. It was $17.00 and we didn’t want to explain to Claire that her dog was missing, so we bought it.

I then made fliers, hung them on stop sign poles and light posts all over the neighborhood. I also stuffed doors and talked to people for two hours. Nothing. It was hot, and I was tired; I also needed to get back to work.

Before I took off, I called the Chandler Police Department. They told me to post on Pets911.com and also on Craig’s List. I headed back towards work, grabbed take away lunch, and then drove towards work. As I got close, my mobile rang.

I said hello and a woman’s voice said “did you get your dog back?” I told her “No”, and she responded that she’d seen my ad on Craig’s List. Then she said she saw another ad about a “Found Dog” that looked just like mine on the same street where I lost mine, half an hour after I lost mine. She gave me the guy’s number and I thanked her profusely before leaving him a voice mail.

Donna quickly found the ad online and we confirmed it was our dog happily posing for the camera in some stranger’s house. Eventually Robert, the stranger, called us back and said Dante was very happy and had had a bath (he was playing outside all week with us working in the yard). We made arrangements to pick him up after work.

Claire, Donna and I went over (about 15 houses away from our own),and I also rid to give him money for his troubles. He refused it and said someone once did the same thing for him when his dog got away. He’s a great guy and gave Dante a huge hug before he left. We did talk to Claire about the gates and listening to her parents, but we sure are relieved that Dante the Dog Adams is home and safe.

Claire, the 4 year old, has a fascination with Farmville. Mama taught her to play and she can navigate the farms better than many adult players. This is a shot I popped off the other evening as she quietly fertilized her neighbors farms by herself while we cooked dinner.

Recently Claire and her classmates were asked what their favorite books are. Claire said her favorite book is “Dante’s Journey”, which is a cute little children’s book we purchased for her in Florence, Italy last summer. It’s a cute little children’s book where Dante’s a little boy and goes through this land with Virgil, his doll. One level includes people who lie and what happens, and so there are these positive messages. She was excited to take this book to class, and at the end of the day, I asked her how it went. She said she wasn’t allowed to share her book “because it’s too scary.” She told me that her teacher said that, then i wondered if her teacher bothered to actually read the book. Perhaps she just saw the darker images or the child walking through a land that was depicted to be hell. Her teacher had the book put away where the kids could not see it.

So now we censor in kindergarten? It’s a child’s book, for God’s sake. It explains why you should not be greedy, why you should not lie, etc… It shows consequences. It’s not the original Dante’s Inferno (which they do teach in schools), so why censor? The kids read Where the Wild Things Art (at this age and younger) with their monsters gnashing their terrible teeth, etc…

So far I have kept my mouth shut, chose my battles and took the book home. But it still bothers me. How much censorship shall my daughter and I go through in her education over the next 13 years?

The day Donna knew she was pregnant one of the first thoughts that went through my mind was driver’s licenses and prom dresses. None of the thoughts had to do with kindergarten. Last week, it was the only thing on my mind as Claire and I went off to register for school. Originally we considered her attending an elementary school near my work but we don’t know what the future holds so recently we spoke to friends whose son attends an elementary school about a mile from our house. They only had great things to say about the school and both are teachers.

So we checked out the school and realized that if Donna were to drive to or from school, this elementary would be so much more convenient for our family. We stopped in one day to pick up the paperwork and we took it home. It was odd to fill it out because it was the same exact paperwork the students fill out at my high school.

Together Claire and I drove the paperwork over to the school; as we exited the car she took the packet from me to take inside. I shot a few photos and followed her in. We met with the attendance clerk and turned in all of her paperwork. The woman said Claire needed to take a placement test, and we asked what it entailed. She said Claire would be asked to identify her colors; Claire’s response was “do you want me to spell their names, too?” Very very fun.

Some of you may have read the previous post about my turtle, Baby Einstein Buddy Killer George Cooter I about a quarter-sized Painted Turtle a friend handed me in 1996 upon our return for the Fall semester. I kept the turtle in a small fishbowl in the dorm, hiding it from the RA and others. For lack of a better name, I called it “Baby” and later added Einstein after my favorite dead guy. Others who helped care for the turtle chose different names, then, a few years back, my male turtle laid an egg. Shortly thereafter, all other names were disbanded and she’s been Georgia (or Georgia Girl) ever since. It’s only fair seeing that we’re pretty sure only girl turtles lay eggs.

So, as the distance between college life and adulthood passes, my infatuation with Einstein has subsided. I’ve always had a thirst for knowledge and enjoy the challenge of learning new things. This trait has been passed to my child, who incessantly asks questions and actually retains my responses for future conversation. Today I taught her the numbers 1 through 1 quadrillion in tens and how to properly place commas in large values. We also did a subtraction problem which she got right! OK, she used her fingers, but did so on her own accord. She also completed her first Soduku (kid’s version) puzzle, so today was quite intellectually successful.

It seems that despite my attempt to mature beyond childhood idols, the past has a sneaky way of creeping back into the present. And so it happens that my daughter has acquired a new title as the family’s budding Einstein.

Clooney is Clooney. He’s good, he’s natural and he can act. I was hesitant to see Up in the Air as it just looked like a romantic comedy for him to bring home a paycheck; and most of the way through the film I still felt this way. Frankly, I only saw this one because it is up for six awards including Best Picture and two Actress in a Supporting Role noms for Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick. Of course, it’s also up for Writing, Directing and for Clooney.

Sitting through a good portion of this film, I was pleased by the concept of single man whose real “home” is on the road flying around the USA firing people for a living and then Kendrick, fresh out of college, comes along to his company and flips Clooney on his head. At first she’s annoying, but she grew on me. I’d seen Kendrick in other things like (God forbid) The Twilight films and she was forgettable, but here, she’s good. Really good. Perhaps it’s because she plays against Clooney or maybe because she was given a role where she could actually act. I bet by now, you realize Kendrick, for me, is the shining exception to a ho hum film.

Farmiga worked very well as the love interest for Clooney, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her of look. There’s something just classy and traditional about her without being too usual.

***Spoilers below.***

But I did say, I saw these things through most of the film. Then we his the big climax and give away. What I liked about the scene where Clooney finally realizes his “love” for Farmiga and rushes off to her home (a brownstone in Chicago, much unlike his hotels and airplane seats) is that the audience doesn’t expect it. Seconds before he knocks on the door, I knew it was a bad idea.

As Farmiga puts it the next and last time they speak, he was her escape. She escaped away from her family to him while ironically she finally is the realization for him that he could be grounded happily. Beyond that Kendrick rushes off to pursue her real dreams with Clooney’s blessing, and his boss puts him back in the sky (played with some aplomb by a bearded Justin Bateman).

Clooney’s chances of winning against Jeff Bridges will be though since he really didn’t do much with this film other than play himself.

As for what it’ll win. We’ll see. Precious has too much hype for Mo’Nique to not be in the running, and two actresses for the same film make this problematic. Precious also butts heads with Up in the Air for both Screenplay and Best Picture, so personally I think Up in the Air will be grounded before the race even begins.

Had Farmiga and Clooney lived happily ever after, this film would’ve been as stale as a mid-America hotel room.

cc licensed flickr photo shared by Daniel Semper

My name is Salmon. Like the fish. First name Susie.

Ah, and with those words, one of my most beloved novels has come to the big screen.

Gotta tell you that with all my film reviews, spoilers may occur. Deal with it. If you’ve not already read this wonderful book, go do it and then come back.

In 2005 I wrote a novel about a dead girl living through the lives of those still alive in her high school. A book where you don’t even discover how she dies until the waning pages. At the time, several people mentioned a little book to me called The Lovely Bones that I should read since it sounded like I was copying Alice Sebold. I assured them I wasn’t, wrote my entire book, and then picked up this gem.

I adored the irony of the conclusion to the novel and subsequent film, but I was hesitant to push this one towards my wife. See, my own daughter was just born and the rape scene before the murder still haunts me. I suggested that my wife never read the book because of that scene, and I sure have read some wild stuff over the years.

I had no idea how Peter Jackson, director, would handle this early scene, which, in part, was based on the author’s own experience in college. Fortunately, it was unlike my novel but anyway I still fell in love with such a wonderful book. After hearing it was on its way to the silver screen, I waited patiently. And waited. And waited. Wow, did I wait for a long time. But today I got to see it.

That rape scene? Cut out and barely even implied (and maybe I only thought it was implied because I knew the narrative beforehand).

Awards season is upon us and art direction stood out for me, to the point where it didn’t stand out which was perfect. There were a few scenes where I paid particular attention to the authenticity of the frame and I was pleased. The costumes (especially Ronan’s outfit) worked very well for me, and this “era” just worked for me.

People always talk actors when reviewing any film, and I went knowing that Tucci has been getting rave reviews for this film (and has been nominated in several awards so far). I didn’t realize quite how wonderful his performance was until he spoke in the film. He almost fell into the character to the point where I no longer watched Tucci. I watched a sad, depressed killer. He played it perfectly subtlety.

Even the subtlety of his lightened eye color, whose similarity to Ronan’s mesmerizingly pale blue, didn’t escape me. As for Ronan, I was lost in those eyes, albeit I’ve never seen her previous work for which she’d been nominated for an Academy Award. While Ronan’s performance here has the critics talking, for me, Rose McIver as Lindsay Salmon, Susie’s younger sister, stole the film. McIver began as the younger child like sister but after Susie’s death Lindsay matures into a woman, almost as obsessed with finding the killer as her father Mark Wahlberg is. Her onscreen transformation worked very well through the development of the plot, and I am eager to see her future dramatic work.

I enjoyed Wahlberg’s performance perhaps because I too am close to my daughter, Sarandon was hilarious as Susie’s boozy, chain-smoking grandmother but I never stopped wanting to shout “Damnit, Janet!” at the screen. Weisz and Imperioli round out the class. I enjoyed Imperioli’s role (no matter how small it was) but Weisz’s talents were terribly under used. Having seen much of her former work, I expected more from the role although I did understand that Susie’s mother’s healing required her to fall into herself.

I agree with the critics that Peter Jackson could’ve done more with the film and the special effects were well done (more than half of the film was a blue screened Susie-styled purgatory) but the film, if nominated for an Oscar for special effects, cannot beat Avatar in this category.

As with any book made film the critics will lambast certain perspectives and lack of development, and my only concern really lay in the characters of Ruth Connor and Ray Singh. If memory serves Sebold gives more time to these two characters, and while Singh moves in and out of the narrative as Salmon’s almost first love, his relationship with Ruth and then Ruth’s posthumously relationship with Susie could’ve been more fleshed out. Here was my single disappointment with the film. Albeit Jackson’s subtlety of the relationship of the two living teens works well and did well to not overshadow Susie’s tale. Moreover, while the irony of Tucci’s demise is not lost on Sebold or Jackson, some audience will leave the theatre scratching their heads; hopefully, to only return again and again to see this wonderful film.

Back when I was in high school one of the cool things to do junior and senior year (read: after I got a car) was to hit local shows. I knew several guys in bands back then, and Friday night’s usually found us at the Lithuanian Country Club. What it really was was a small track of land off a windy road near a highway owned by some Lithuanian club (think Elk’s Club but scarier) of old guys. They never used it at night and would rent the basement and barn out for shows. So come the weekend we’d find ourselves in the smoky basement or out in the chilly barn (where there was more room for more talented acts.. & bigger audiences).

After two years of this and bands coming and going, I went off to Penn State and began following bands like Velveeta and Jealous Sun (my first website I ever developed was for this band, now way defunct. Look for Jeff VanFossen, the lead singer, online). More smoky bars (no more basements for me!) and good, raw music. Then I grew up. I moved to Arizona and Dan and I hit the local scene. At first, it was supposedly all about Scottsdale (sorry! Don’t sue us. We weren’t locals then.) We saw Rock Lobster, and they were cool. Then we saw Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, and I was really confused because wasn’t that a Refreshments song they were playing, and then I finally got to the point where it didn’t matter; Roger rocks, and that’s it.

But then it was less and less about the shows and more about the music. We got old. Fridays and Saturdays were about sleeping after 4am mornings all week, and we had kids. Kids who didn’t understand that 4am on Saturday or Sunday was still 4am!

Now, it’s 2010. I am going to be 36 this year, and a few months ago I had the opportunity to see Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers of the first time in a few years. I almost blew it off, but something dragged me out there. I took my camera and shot the whole show, and I loved it. Something about being up there, the music, the people, everything.

When one of my students asked me to come out to his show, I actually didn’t give a lame ass answer of NO. I considered it. This was a cool guy who I knew has so much potential, so I checked when, I checked my calendar, I checked who could go with me, and I paid for the tickets. I asked if I could bring my camera, and I eagerly agreed to shoot the show. The band is young and needs promo pics and a demo, so I was willing to help out (didn’t even consider asking for money, as I know they don’t have any… hell, maybe they’ll make it big and pay me in 10 years).

Friend backed out but I was still on for the show. It was a strip mall store front. Looked like the place, called The Clubhouse, in Tempe bought a few stores and broke down the walls between them and then painted the front glass black. Not too much to look at, but for $10 and five bands, I was there to support. In line, I felt like a sore thumb. I could tell who was a parent pretending to not know the dark dressed emo/skater/thrasher/whathaveyou kid nearby. The kids behind me were pulling half smoked cigarettes out of an ashtray and burning the butt ends to get rid of germs before smoking them. (Was I ever that lame in highschool?)

I got in as the band took the stage. Sick But Beautiful is the name Alex picked for the band, and he told me he played guitar and back up singer. It was more like screamer, but it wasn’t that Screamo crap I hear about. This was more like way edgier Linkin Park with Shinoda and Bennington upfront. I was surprised. Not because I didn’t have faith in Alex, but because I was actually enjoying the music. This was one of their first gigs and they went on first of the night, so they only had about four songs. I shot straight through their set through some terrible lighting (had to punch down the iso to 3200 just to get some shots), and I even leaned against the stage so the moshers who kept running into my back wouldn’t jar my shots.

After the show, I hung around and pretended to care about the next band. They were in the same vein but I didn’t have anything invested in them, so I snuck out. Then I remembered who I was. I called the wife from the car to see if the kid was asleep, and while I did that, club security knocked on my window to make sure I wasn’t some kid doing drugs between sets in the parking lot. Ah, how fun it was to drive back to adulthood.