On love, in sadness...

As I've written about on other social media outlets, my father, Fred, suddenly and unexpectedly passed away last Friday night.

Even a week later, I'm still reeling from this loss. It seems utterly surreal to be living in a world without my father, who was unequivocally the greatest man I've ever known. I still remember my total shock when I received a phone call from my brother telling me they were rushing my father to the hospital because he had apparently stopped breathing, and then hearing a short while later that he had passed away.

I was fortunate enough to have driven home the previous Sunday for Mother's Day, and spent a few hours with my family. When I said goodbye I never could have imagined in a million years that would be the last time I'd see or speak to my father, although we traded comments on social media and via email later in the week. How could I have known? And what would I have done differently if I did?

My father's funeral last Sunday was honestly the most difficult day of my life to date. Having to say goodbye in this fashion was hard, and the fact that my father was buried next to my baby brother, who died of SIDS in 1984, made the day even harder.

I honestly don't know how I feel right now. I'm devastated from this loss, worried about how it will affect my mother and siblings (being the oldest does that), and I'm a little angry, too. But more than that, I wish I had one more opportunity to spend with my father, just to tell him again how much I loved him and how important he was to me. I know that no matter how many times I had that chance it would feel inadequate, but that is certainly my wish.

To demonstrate that in some small way, I spoke during my father's funeral. Many people marveled afterward that I was able to (just barely) keep it together for the entire speech, but the truth is, it was important that I was able to say everything I wrote without falling apart. I'm going to share the entire speech below, and I'll add the one thing I wanted to say that I knew would bring me to tears, so I omitted it from the speech to be safe.

Dad, I miss you more than words can say. I'm grateful for everything you taught me, everything you did for me, and everything you were. My life won't be the same without you. But despite the obvious fact that I owe my existence in part to you, I owe so much of who I am as well. And I hope you knew, and know, how much I love you.

Today is a day that none of us could ever imagine. Now that we're living it, we keep hoping that this is only a dream, that we'll wake up and all of this will not be real. But we know that's not the case.

On behalf of my entire family, I want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for being here today. If you're here, hopefully you had even a small chance to know what an incredible man Fred Hoffer was.

Hopefully you had the chance to talk with him a little bit. He could and would talk to anyone, anywhere—the gym, the grocery store, the mall, my nephews' school. I've had friends reach out to me the last few days and share with me memories of random conversations they had with my father during parties or other events, conversations I never even knew about.

If you knew my father, you undoubtedly knew he was a man who loved life. He was a man who enjoyed such a wide variety of experiences. He coached soccer for years for both my sister and my brothers. (He had a less-than-spectacular run as my soccer coach for one year, until he realized he was the only coach who would rather not ever put his kid in the game. And that was fine with me.)

He loved working out, and of course, on the flip side, he loved to eat. So many of us probably not only have memories of meals shared at restaurants, in homes, and at special events, but also those "secret" meals, the ones snuck in between other meals, which we just never mentioned to anyone.

He also was an incredible friend.

And if you knew my dad, what you knew more than anything was how much he loved his family. He was an incredibly devoted husband to our mother, a father beyond compare to my sister, brothers, and me, a fiercely devoted son, brother, cousin, and uncle, and one of the proudest, most involved grandfathers ever.

Without a doubt, Fred Hoffer was the greatest man I've ever known. A man with an unending generosity, an incredible personality, a gusto for life, and the most enormous capacity for love.

This loss is utterly incomprehensible to us. I keep walking into a room expecting he'll walk in any second.

We are so tremendously grateful to have had this man in our lives. I couldn't have been luckier to have him as a father, a friend, and a role model. So often in my life people told me how much I look like my dad, and how we share many of the same mannerisms. I have never had a problem with that. But all I keep thinking is of a line from Paul Simon's You Can Call Me Al: Who'll be my role model, now that my role model is gone?

The support and kindness and love you have shown my family and me is appreciated more than words can ever say. I can only imagine how touched my dad would be to see this outpouring of love for him.

Thank you from the bottom of our bruised and aching hearts.

Book Review: "Sous Chef: 24 Hours on the Line" by Michael Gibney

From the moment I realized I loved to cook (and realized I was good at it), I had a dream of becoming a chef someday, of perhaps having my own little restaurant, where I could decide a menu based on what looked good at the market, and cook for people who loved food. Sure, television shows like Top Chef and Hell's Kitchen made being a chef look a little less appealing, but those shows are enhanced for their dramatic value, right?

Michael Gibney's terrific book, Sous Chef: 24 Hours on the Line, has made me realize that the reality is more like the latter than the former. Gibney has cooked in some of the nation's finest restaurants, and clearly knows his stuff. If someone with his skills and experience can still have nights from hell, what chance do some of us mere mortals have?

Sous Chef: 24 Hours on the Line follows Gibney on a day working at a New York City restaurant. He's one of two sous chefs working with a talented chef, who gives both Gibney and his compatriot a great deal of responsibility and latitude in the kitchen, but expects a great deal, too. You see just how much work it is to produce the food you get to enjoy in a restaurant, how many people are involved, how many crises may occur in the preparation, plating, and serving of the food. You get to understand why your food sometimes comes out under- or over-cooked, or perhaps missing a crucial component listed on the menu. These responsibilities, coupled with the breakneck pace of a day in the fishbowl-like atmosphere of a restaurant kitchen, when many sous chefs and others have been out late drinking the night before, can be overwhelming.

"The sous chef (from the French meaning "under chef") is the lieutenant, the executor of Chef's wishes. He is at Chef's side seventy hours a week or more, for good or bad, a perpetual Mark Antony to Chef's Julius Caesar."

This book makes you feel like you are there on the line with Gibney. You get to experience his highs and his lows, work through the challenges thrown at him, and weather the emotional issues he battles. Gibney writes in a conversational style peppered with bravado and lots of culinary terms (luckily there's a comprehensive glossary at the back of the book)—there's even a good deal of Spanish dialogue thrown in as he chronicles his conversations with dishwashers, salad chefs, and other kitchen staff.

If you're a foodie, fancy yourself a chef without a restaurant, or have ever thought about a culinary career, this is a book for you. It doesn't glamorize the sous chef's role; it presents a fairly realistic picture of a day in a fairly busy, fine dining restaurant, without stooping to clichés or creating stereotypical characters. I really enjoyed this a great deal, although it did reinforce that I was wise not to pursue a career as a chef after I went to culinary school. (I like having some balance in my life. Call me crazy.)

"Without a kitchen there is no restaurant; without a strong line there is no kitchen." I know the next time I go out to eat at a restaurant, I'll think a little bit harder about the blood, sweat, and tears (hopefully not too much of the first two) that went into the preparation of the food, and how much I have the sous chef to thank. And I thank Michael Gibney and his great book for that reinforced awareness.

Hoaxes don't help...

Yesterday I posted about the absolutely unacceptable way a New York mother responded to a birthday party invitation her son received from a classmate with two gay fathers. Many of you shared my outrage and cynicism.

Well, it turns out cynicism and outrage were appropriate emotions, but for the wrong reason. You see, the two people pictured above made the whole incident up.

DJs Leeana Karlson and Steve Harper, with Long Island's K-98.3, made the whole thing up. Apparently at the behest of K-98.3 management, the two admitted today that the entire story was a lie and issued an apology.

"Dear K-98.3 Listeners," the statement begins, "On Wednesday, we told you the story of Sophia's birthday party, and one parent's objection to the same-sex household of Sophia's parents. We also posted the invitation on our Facebook page, and invited comments from our followers.

"This story was, in fact, totally fictitious, and created by the two of us. This was done without the knowledge of K-98.3 management or ownership.

"We were attempting to spur a healthy discourse on a highly passionate topic, but we made a mistake by misleading our listeners into thinking that this specific situation actually existed. "We are very sorry that we perpetuated this falsehood, even after it was clear that it had taken on a 'life of its own.' We deeply apologize for violating your trust, and we will work hard to regain that trust."

At this point the radio station's management hasn't commented on their plans for the pair. I hope they get fired and never work in radio again.

Let's face it: the type of treatment Karlson and Harper created actually does happen in our country. But when hoaxes like these catch the media's attention, they add fuel to the fire of those who deny that discrimination and prejudice exist, those who say that anti-discrimination laws protecting LGBT people aren't necessary. They're the reason that certain states—Kansas being one recently—can feel empowered enough to introduce a law in the state legislature that says discrimination against LGBT people for religious reasons is okay.

Hoaxes like these don't help. We need to talk about these issues, to make this type of prejudice really stop, but creating a scheme to promote dialogue isn't the answer.

Remember these?

I'll admit it: I was a sucker for cassette tapes. Because my cars up until 2001 had only cassette players, I resisted buying a lot of CDs until it was difficult to get new music on cassette. (And then I had to buy blank tapes to record all of my CDs onto cassettes. Such fun.)

I used to constantly make mix tapes with different themes, and of course, the attempt to tape things off the radio was a constant battle. In the pre-Internet days you couldn't Google lyrics to figure out what song was playing, and you always had to wait with your finger on the pause button for the commercials to stop or for the DJ to stop talking. And then you had to be ready when the song ended, to hit pause again before the next song cut in. Good times.

Anyway, seeing these pictures totally brought me back to those days, when you'd share cassettes and write—in painstaking detail—what was on each one. Sometimes, if it was only one record or CD you taped, you'd photocopy the cover for the cassette case.

Man, I'm old. But hope you enjoy the nostalgia!

Bet that wasn't the advice they were looking for!

Don't know if you've heard about this, but in the syndicated "Ask Amy" advice column that appears in newspapers across the country, a parent recently wrote the following to columnist Amy Dickinson:

DEAR AMY: I recently discovered that my son, who is 17, is a homosexual. We are part of a church group and I fear that if people in that group find out they will make fun of me for having a gay child.

He won’t listen to reason, and he will not stop being gay. I feel as if he is doing this just to get back at me for forgetting his birthday for the past three years — I have a busy work schedule.

Please help him make the right choice in life by not being gay. He won’t listen to me, so maybe he will listen to you.
—Feeling Betrayed

(You've got to wonder if this person really is serious.)

Amy's reply was fairly straightforward, but probably not what this parent was looking for.

DEAR BETRAYED: You could teach your son an important lesson by changing your own sexuality to show him how easy it is. Try it for the next year or so: Stop being a heterosexual to demonstrate to your son that a person’s sexuality is a matter of choice — to be dictated by one’s parents, the parents’ church and social pressure.

I assume that my suggestion will evoke a reaction that your sexuality is at the core of who you are. The same is true for your son. He has a right to be accepted by his parents for being exactly who he is.

When you "forget" a child’s birthday, you are basically negating him as a person. It is as if you are saying that you have forgotten his presence in the world. How very sad for him. Pressuring your son to change his sexuality is wrong. If you cannot learn to accept him as he is, it might be safest for him to live elsewhere.

A group that could help you and your family figure out how to navigate this is Pflag.org. This organization is founded for parents, families, friends and allies of LGBT people, and has helped countless families through this challenge. Please research and connect with a local chapter.

It makes me sad that there are parents and other adults (some of whom are lawmakers, scarily enough) who believe that your sexual orientation can be changed as a result of pressure or, God forbid, therapy. I doubt that Amy's advice will change this parent's mind, but I hope that their child has the confidence to resist whatever it is his parents try to do.

I've no doubt that one day these things will be sad little anecdotes we'll look back on with horror and disbelief, but until then, it's kind of scary. And depressing. Kudos to Amy Dickinson for an incredible response.

Seriously?

If you've ever waited tables before, you know what it's like to have horribly rude customers from time to time. But the other night, Dayna Morales, a waitress at Gallo Asian Restaurant in Bridgewater, NJ, had customers who redefined the word.

Morales, a former Marine, should have known something was up when she seated the family and they commented on her short haircut. "Oh," one of the customers said. "I thought you were going to say your name was Dan. You sure surprised us!"

But the final straw came when the family left Morales no tip on a $93.55 bill, but instead wrote this comment on the check: "I'm sorry but I cannot tip because I don't agree with your lifestyle & how you live your life."

Honestly, as a friend said in response to an incident earlier this week, the crazy is starting to run loose in this world.

Now sure, this is a fairly isolated incident, but it comes on the heels of similar circumstances a few weeks ago, when a gay waiter at a Carrabba's Italian Grill in Overland Park, Kansas, received this note on his check instead of a tip: "We hope you will see the tip your fag choices made you lose out on, and plan accordingly."

Every time a legislator says that human rights should be decided by vote or that not every person is entitled to equality, and when the Speaker of the House of Representatives says that there is no need for legislation protecting employment discrimination against LGBT people when they can be fired for being gay in 29 states, we foster this type of attitude.

I don't know who these people think they are, but I hope they are forced to answer for their behavior someday, but whatever God they think entitles them to treat people in this way.

It's almost like Stephen King's "It"...

Warning: Do not read this blog post if you suffer from coulrophobia, the debilitating fear of clowns.

The town of Northampton, England, about 60 miles outside of London, is a fairly idyllic town which has a rich history dating back to the Bronze Age and is home to two rugby teams.

Oh, and since Friday, September 13, it's been terrorized by a clown.

Yes, you read that right. A red-haired, masked stranger in full clown regalia who wanders the streets at night carrying a bouquet of balloons, has appeared every night at various places around Northampton. But although he has frightened Northampton's citizens, who liken him to Pennywise, the evil clown in Stephen King's novel, It, the clown says, "I don't terrorise people. I just want to be spotted."

"He doesn't juggle. He doesn't twist balloons into animal shapes. He just stares," Northampton Herald & Post explained.

Is this a publicity stunt? A cry for help? Not at all, says the Northampton Clown. He has said—on his Facebook page and in a few interviews with media—that while people may be scared when he pops up, that's all part of the fun. That's his goal: "I just want to amuse people."

"Most people enjoy being a bit freaked out and then they can laugh about it afterwards," he said. "It's like watching a horror movie, when people get scared they usually start laughing."

And apparently that's not all. Because the clown has apparently given birth (so to speak) to a legion of friends and enemies, including Boris, the self-proclaimed "Clown Catcher." Dressed in a purple superhero suit, he also wanders the streets after dark and, on his Facebook page explains, "I am the official clown catcher. I am not here to scare anyone. I am not here to hurt anyone. I come in peace!" In fact, he only seems to want to meet the clown and take a picture with him.

Not quite sure what to make of this, but it reminds me of my freshman year in college when I read King's It. I had never been afraid of clowns before but, as those of you who've read the book can attest, Pennywise the clown scared the crap out of me. One of my college roommates used to pick up the book and read it when I was busy. One afternoon we were playing basketball in our room, and the ball rolled under my bed. Apparently my roommate had hidden a clown mask under there as a prank.

I didn't sleep in my bed for a week. Needless to say, I'm not visiting Northampton anytime soon...

Give this kid a pony!!

It's been said so many times before that the beauty and purity of children's hearts and thoughts can take your breath away. That absolutely happened when I heard this story about eight-year-old Ryan.

Ryan has a twin sister named Amber. Amber loves to have fun and be silly, just like other eight-year-old girls. But Amber is also picked on at her school because of her weight. She does not do anything to antagonize it. She just goes to class. She hears the names being called and takes it. Just like most children who are bullied she holds a lot of it in.

But one day, Amber told her mother, Karen, she wished she was not around anymore. Then there would be no more name calling.

Ryan did the only thing he thought could help. When asked by his mother to write a letter to Santa with his Christmas wish list, he wrote the following:

Dear Santa,

My mom said to send you a Christmas list. I wanted a remote control car and helicopter but I do not want that anymore. Kids at school are still picking on Amber and it is not fair because she does not do anything to them and it makes me mad. I prayed they would stop, but God is busy and I need your help. Is it against the rules to give up gifts early? Can you ask Big Time Rush to come to Amber’s birthday party? It will make her so happy. If you do not get them to come that is fine, just get her everything she asked for.

Thanks Santa,

Love Ryan

PS- My mom throws the best birthday parties. You can come if you want.

Karen was so touched, she put the letter up on her Facebook page, and it has since gone viral all over the world.

I hope Amber realizes how lucky she is to have a twin brother like Ryan, and Karen knows what special children she has. But more than that, I hope that as he gets older, Ryan's heart and spirit don't change.

The world needs more people who think the way Ryan does.

People are cretins...

Don't know if you saw this story in the news earlier in the week, but I've been to busy to post this before.

Apparently the grandmother of Max, a 13-year-old boy with autism, received an anonymous letter at her home in Newcastle, Ontario, Canada. The letter, signed by "One pissed off mother," refers to Max as a neighborhood "nuisance," "retarded," and a "dreadful" noise polluter.

But worse than that, the letter says, "Personally, they should take whatever non retarded [sic] body parts he possesses and donate it to science. What the hell else good is he to anyone!!! Do the right thing and move or euthanize him!! Either way we are ALL better off!!!"

See for yourself:

There are no words for someone like this. If the author of this letter is actually a parent, I fear for this person's children. Canadian police are investigating.

Sometimes people just baffle me.

Introverts, this one's for you...

Those of you who know me well (or remember me), know that I'm fairly outgoing and kinda (okay, quite) talkative. And I'll admit I don't mind being the center of attention every now and...well, a lot.

But that being said, I tend to feel the most extroverted and "on" when I'm surrounded by people with whom I feel comfortable. I'm not good at walking into a room full of people and shaking hands with strangers, no matter how good it would be for me to do professionally. And even when I'm in a room filled with people with whom I should be familiar, I'm still not the type to approach them and would be much happier hanging out in the background...or perhaps behind the scenes.

I know I don't fit your textbook definition of introvert, but despite what you may think, I'm definitely more introverted than extroverted. (Really.) And once I read Buzzfeed's 27 Problems Only Introverts Will Understand, I was pretty convinced, because I can identify with almost every single one of them!

Some of my favorites include:

• When you carry a book to a public place so no one will bug you, but other people take that as a conversation starter.


• When people can’t seem to grasp that being in small groups is where you excel the most.


• When people make you feel weird for wanting to do things by yourself.


• When you’re really excited to go out, but those good feelings don’t last long enough.


• And when you need to be completely alone so you can recharge and get back to being awesome.

Do any of these sound like you? That's absolutely fine. Remember:

Read the whole list at www.buzzfeed.com/erinlarosa/problems-only-introverts-will-understand. And then go someplace quiet and recharge yourself. I don't mind.

Movie Review: "Fruitvale Station"

I went into seeing the fantastically powerful Fruitvale Station knowing what the movie was about, and it packed such a punch that I can only imagine how those who go into the movie without knowing anything might feel. Any review will give you the same information mine will, but if you want to remain unaware, don't read on.

This amazing film, written and directed by first-time director Ryan Coogler, is based on the true story of Oscar Julius Grant III, a 22-year-old resident of California's Bay Area, who was inexplicably shot and killed by police at a BART station in the early hours of January 1, 2008. The film opens with actual cell phone video of the incident taken by witnesses on the train, but you're not completely sure what you're watching until you see everything unfold later on.

Oscar (a fantastic Michael B. Jordan of The Wire and Friday Night Lights) is an ex-con who is trying to keep his life on track. He wants to marry his girlfriend, Sophina (Melonie Diaz), although he struggles with fidelity, he wants to be able to provide a better life for those around him but can't seem to find his way completely clear of his past. But he is fiercely devoted to two things—his mother (the steadfast yet emotional Octavia Spencer) and his young daughter, Tatiana, who is already proving herself to be smarter than her parents are ready for.

The movie follows Oscar on New Year's Eve Day, as he tries to put his life completely on track. You see what a good heart and soul he has (although you get glimpses of his troubled past in some flashback scenes), and how determined he is to make things work, job-wise and relationship-wise. You see some of the tough-guy posturing he adopts with his friends, but it is more driven by bravado than anything else. And as conversations point Oscar and Sophina toward that BART station, you want to scream at the screen, much like you'd want to when watching a horror movie.

Running just under 90 minutes, the movie packs a great deal of plot, tension, and emotion into a short amount of time. The theater where I saw the movie remained silent through the entire film—a surprise in these days of discourteous moviegoers—except for the sniffling and sobbing that overtook most of us as the film reached its conclusion. (Yes, me, too.)

The performances are tremendously powerful and feel authentic. Spencer is the film's emotional center whenever she's onscreen—you can sense her intense love for Oscar but her fear that he'll ruin his life. Diaz's Sophina is conflicted between wanting to be with the man she loves and wanting complete certainty he'll give her and her daughter everything they want. But the movie belongs to Michael B. Jordan. Oscar is far from perfect, but you see how much he wants to do the right thing. When the film reaches its sad, sad climax, you find yourself emotionally drained because of such a tragic loss, and outraged at what transpired, and that is partially because of Jordan's star-making performance.

Walking out of the theater after the film, I felt completely wrecked yet so grateful I had the chance to see Fruitvale Station. This is easily the best movie I've seen so far this year and I can only hope that more people find it, see it, and take it to heart. Not since Boyz n the Hood have I been so blown away by the spare yet forceful power of a directorial debut. This is one I hope finds its way to the Oscars next spring.

When love is love, no matter who you are...

This is Arin Andrews and Katie Hill from Oklahoma. He's 17 years old, she's 19. One excelled at ballet and competed in beauty contests, while the other was the son of a Marine Colonel.

They look like your average couple, don't they? What's so amazing is that two years ago, Arin was a girl named Emerald, and Katie was a boy named Luke. The couple met through a support group for transgendered teens in Tulsa, Oklahoma, while both were completing their transitions.

Both struggled with their gender identities while growing up. "The teachers separated the girls and boys into separate lines for a game...I didn't understand why they asked me to stand with the girls," Arin told the Daily Mail. "Girly things didn't interest me, but I was worried what people would think if I said I wanted to be a boy, so I kept it secret." Meanwhile, Katie confided that, "Even from age three, I knew deep down I wanted to be a girl. All I wanted was to play with dolls. I hated my boy body and never felt right in it."

"Being transgender myself, I understand Arin better than anybody else — how good he feels and how complete he feels," Katie told The Sun. She also quipped to the Daily Mail, "We're both size five, so we even swap our old clothes our [mothers] bought us but we hated."

It's wonderful that now that the two have successfully completed their transitions, they can resume their lives with each other in bodies they feel more comfortable in. Arin said, "Now when I’m out in a public pool or lifting weights, no one raises an eyebrow. They just think I’m a guy...I can wear a tank top, which I couldn’t before, and I can go swimming shirtless. I can just be a regular guy. And I’m so lucky to have my family and Katie to rely on."

And Katie added, "We look so convincing as a boy and a girl, nobody even notices now. We secretly feel so good about it because it's the way we've always wanted to be seen."

HuffPost Gay Voices editor Noah Michelson, when discussing this story on their site noted, "It brings to light the idea that sexuality and gender are not the same thing. So both of these individuals are heterosexual...They're not gay just because they're transgender, and that's something that blows people's minds still."

When people love each other, it shouldn't matter who they are. The most important thing is that they're happy with each other, and happy together. Stories like this are like wonderful fortifications against the ignorance and hatred that still exists in our world. Wishing Arin and Katie every happiness always...

Shalom, 13...

So I watched the video of my Bar Mitzvah last night for the first time in more than 25 years. Wow.

My Bar Mitzvah was 30 years ago this year, January 8, 1983. The theme was Pac-Man. I even had a robot that talked (controlled by a guy who hid in the coatroom or something, but it was high-tech for 1983).

Watching the video I was struck by a number of things.

It gave me a combination of warmth and sadness to see so many relatives and family friends who have passed away since then. My grandfather, George, was very ill with cancer at my Bar Mitzvah, but to watch the video you would never know it. He channeled every bit of energy and happiness and pride and love into his body that night, and it showed, so it's amazing to think he died a little more than a month later. My grandmother, Gloria, suffered so much from osteoporosis later in life, that it's wonderful to see her actually standing upright.

Seeing people I've lost that meant so much to me in my life at a time when they were so full of life was simultaneously wonderful, surreal, and depressing.

Thanks to the amazing power of social media, I keep in frequent contact with, or have connected with nearly all of the friends who attended my Bar Mitzvah. The only ones I've not been able to get back in touch with are those not on Facebook or those who remain impervious to Facebook and Google stalking. (Shameful, I tell you.) But seriously, that's pretty great.

Although I had a lot of hair back then (it was the 1980s and I was from Jersey, after all), and bigger, darker glasses, it's unsettling to see how many of 13-year-old Larry's mannerisms I recognize. (My favorite comment from W when watching this was, "Wow, you rolled your eyes even then!")

Since then, I've grown a bit taller (although not much, sadly), my voice got deeper (thankfully), and I worked hard to lose my Jersey accent, but the Larry of 1983 isn't vastly different than the Larry of today. More sarcastic, sure, more confident in myself (most of the time), and certainly a bit wiser and more cynical (it is what it is), but still fairly similar. And I don't know that I mind.

I am so thankful to have these memories so accessible, and so grateful to have had so many special people touch my life, and continue to do so. Makes a Bar Mitzvah boy proud.

Your morning science fix...

Even if you're not good at math or science, you might be able to appreciate this equation. Truth be told, if I have any caffeine in the morning it's a Diet Coke (although I've been avoiding those), but I know how this feels...

Good morning, all!

Movie Review: "20 Feet from Stardom"

What makes a song memorable to you? While there isn't one solitary factor—it could be a classic guitar or saxophone riff, amazingly poetic lyrics, or a can't-stop-singing-it refrain—one thing that nearly always captures me is the harmonies, the background vocals. Whether it's the "sock it to me-sock it to me-sock it to me" of Aretha Franklin's Respect, the "do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do" of Lou Reed's Take a Walk on the Wild Side, or Oleta Adams' soulful harmonizing during Tears For Fears' Woman in Chains, those and other similar moments keep songs stuck in my head—and make them fun to sing along with.

Except for rare occasions, we don't really think about the unsung heroes singing in the background. Who are these people, and did they choose a life behind the spotlight, or is this what they wound up with? These are the questions answered by the brilliant, engaging, and entertaining documentary 20 Feet from Stardom.

The film looks at background singers from the earliest days of rock and roll—particularly Darlene Love, who, with The Blossoms, was the first group of African-American background singers, whose sound everyone wanted to emulate—through current background singers. While director Morgan Neville shares viewpoints and ideas and inspirations from recording artists like Bruce Springsteen, Sting, and Mick Jagger, as well as musical experts and industry professionals, this is a film about those in the background.

Love, an annual fixture with her singing Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) on David Letterman's show every year since 1986, is one of the five singers prominently featured in the movie. Love spent years under Phil Spector's management, and actually recorded a number of hits, only to find her voice was being used for other singers. The film also focuses on Merry Clayton, who most notably performed a duet with Mick Jagger on the Stones' Gimme Shelter (and who also had a minor hit with the song Yes in 1988, from the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing); 1970s background singer Claudia Lennear; Lisa Fischer, a Grammy-award winning singer in her own right, who is considered one of the best background singers in the industry; and Judith Hill, a background singer for Michael Jackson who rose to prominence when she sang at the singer's memorial service, and who was on The Voice earlier this year.

As a huge music fan, I absolutely loved this film, because it gave you the opportunity to see those whose voices I recognize but whose names and faces have not been known to me. You get to see the triumphs, the appreciation from the singers they work with (and the renown that these artists often give them on stage), and you also see the downside of perhaps being more talented than many artists out there yet never getting the chance for that big break. And in some cases, the breaks come, but these singers either didn't know how to handle them or didn't manage them well.

If you like music and like to immerse yourself in the inner workings of the industry, definitely see 20 Feet from Stardom. It gives you the exhilaration you get from a good movie, plus you get to hear some great music and some terrific stories. Once you see it, you'll think more about those people whose names don't show up on the record, or don't get mentioned by the DJ, but make the songs you like more memorable.

Movie Review: "The Bling Ring"

One of Sofia Coppola's strengths as a filmmaker is her ability to take what we think we know—lonely actors, relationships, royalty, and the cult of celebrity—and skew our perspectives. That talent is on fine display in The Bling Ring, an enjoyable if slight movie based on the true story of a group of California high school students who, in 2008, broke into the houses of their favorite celebrities (Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Audrina Patridge) and stole clothing, jewelry, and money.

Insecure Marc (Israel Broussard) is a new student in a transitional high school. His low self-esteem (he doesn't think he's as attractive or worthy as his peers) makes him determined and somewhat desperate to fit in. He meets Rebecca (Katie Chang), who quickly takes him under her wing and introduces him to her circle of friends—Nicki (Emma Watson, the anti-Hermione), her surrogate sister, Sam (Taissa Farmiga), and gravelly-voiced Chloe (Claire Julien), all of whom are more interested in clubbing, taking drugs, and shopping than academics, which suits Marc just fine.

Marc and Rebecca bond over their mutual love of celebrities, fashion, and gossip, although Rebecca's brazen thievery surprises and unnerves him. But he considers Rebecca his best friend, and since he finally feels as if he belongs, he keeps most of his concerns to himself. And then Rebecca ups the ante from breaking into random empty houses to breaching celebrities' inner sanctums. (You won't believe how easy this activity becomes, and you can't help but wonder whether this was truly the case back in 2008.)

The pair, with their friends tagging along from time to time, identify celebrities who are out of town (God bless the internet) and break into their houses, stealing designer clothes, jewelry, money, and drugs, sharing and selling the spoils (and celebrating their finds in clubs and via social media). They don't really try and hide what they're doing, and no one really shows remorse—the general sentiment is that these celebrities have far more than they need, so why shouldn't they take some?

As you might imagine, the gig eventually comes to an end, to Marc's simultaneous relief and sadness. And as the group tries to spin what they've done (some more successfully than others), you find yourself wondering how disconnected these kids are from the adults in their lives, and how we as a society have built celebrities—particularly those more famous for being famous than for actually doing anything—into somewhat of a revered class yet one deserving of some humility and comeuppance, particularly from those less fortunate.

What makes The Bling Ring so enjoyable is both the audacity of the schemes the group pulls off as well as the strength and naturalness of the actors' performances. (All but Watson have done few if any movies prior to this.) Chang is marvelous as the icy ringleader; you understand why Marc wants to be her friend and stay in her good graces. Broussard is refreshingly vulnerable and conflicted in his role as the film's imperfect consciousness, and Watson has both the self-centered California attitude—and the dialogue—down pat.

I enjoyed this movie a great deal, but in the end, Coppola's decision to keep the audience at arm's length from the characters undercuts the film's power, so it didn't quite wow me. It's still definitely worth seeing, perhaps when it comes to whatever streaming or DVD rental service you use, if for no other reason than to marvel at what this group of kids pulled off.

Here's your sign...

A friend posted these on Facebook the other day and I thought they were far too good not to share.

Any wonder why people don't pay attention to signs? How could they?

Stop. This. Madness. NOW.

This is a picture of Mark Carson. He was 32 years old.

Last Friday night, Mark Carson and a friend were walking in Greenwich Village in New York City, when he was approached by a man, Elliot Morales. Morales asked them, "Are you afraid? Do you watch the news? Do you know what happened in Sandy Hook?" according to the New York Post.

He then asked Carson, "Do you want to die here?" Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly said.

Police said Morales called Carson a "faggot" and a "queer" before shooting him in the cheek. Mark Carson died.

Morales rolled around "laughing on the ground" and proudly told officers "Yeah, I shot him in the head" as he was arrested five blocks away from where Carson was killed. Morales is being charged with second-degree murder as a hate crime.

This is Nick Porto and his partner, Kevin Atkins.

In early May, they were assaulted on Eighth Avenue, between West 34th and West 35th Street at about 5 p.m. Porto said that he and Atkins were walking arm-in-arm down Eighth Avenue after a leisurely brunch when a group of men he said were in their early-to-mid 20s and wearing Knicks jerseys started shouting slurs at the couple.

"They called us faggots," said Porto. When he turned around and asked why they were shouting at him, the group of men knocked the pair to the ground and began to violently kick and punch them, he said. Porto was left with a broken nose and severe headaches.

This is NYC nightlife promoter Dan Contarino. Last night, Contarino was jumped at Avenue D & 4th Street. Allegedly, witnesses are reporting the assailant was yelling "faggot" as he was kicking and beating Dan. Neighbors rushed to Dan's aid and chased after the attacker but unfortunately he got away.

Contarino had to have emergency surgery, although his life is not in danger.

Around 5:20 a.m. this morning, a couple, ages 41 and 42, were walking on Broadway near Prince Street when two men began yelling anti-gay slurs. A physical altercation ensued and one of the victims suffered an eye injury, police said. Fabian Ortiz and Pedro Jiminez were arrested and are being charged with third degree assault as a hate crime.

When does this stop? This rash of violence is alarming. But what is more alarming is the behavior that fuels these attacks. While in this day and age people expect the Westboro Baptist Church to blame "the fags" for every major disaster in our world, what isn't acceptable are the lawmakers and clergy and athletes and sportscasters and others who believe that gay people are somehow less worthy than "regular" people.

Take Pastor E.W. Jackson, who said that gay people are psychologically sick. "Their minds are perverted, they’re frankly very sick people psychologically, mentally and emotionally and they see everything through the lens of homosexuality. When they talk about love they’re not talking about love, they’re talking about homosexual sex. So they can’t see clearly."

Pastor Jackson is the Republican candidate for lieutenant governor in Virginia.

Gay people are not less than, not inferior, not unworthy, not abominable, not sick, not anything more than human beings. No one deserves to be attacked or screamed at or shot or killed for who they are, something they cannot change. But the more our society continues to give those who speak with tongues of bigotry and ignorance and hatred and small-mindedness a voice, a pulpit, a platform, a job representing us, people out there will take those words as a reason to foment violence.

I've said it so many times before, but I will not stop saying it. WE DESERVE BETTER. And we need to demand it. People's rights are not up for debate. And people's safety shouldn't be dependent upon whom they love or how they walk or dress or anything.

All the things that I am not...

As the mantle of marriage equality—and equality in general—continues to get embraced by a wider and wider circle, those on what will eventually be the losing side of the argument—and history, for that matter—continue their vocal tirades, throwing accusations of an increasingly wilder nature at LGBT people and those who support equality. While I'd like to believe that most rational, reasonably intelligent people can separate the truth from baseless hyperbole, I thought it might be helpful to let people know some basic facts.

1. I am not looking to "recruit," "convert," or "turn" people gay. While I believe every person has the right to live their life the way they so choose, I would never knowingly encourage people to "choose" a lifestyle in which they're treated with derision, persecution, inequality, and threats of violence.


2. A person's desire to spend the rest of their life with the person they love should not affect anyone else's relationship or marriage. If in some bizarre way my relationship affects yours, your relationship was not stable.


3. Allowing people of the same sex to marry each other will not open the floodgates to people marrying their children or other family members, their pets or other animals, or inanimate objects.


4. While I go to the gym six days a week, I don't ogle the others in the locker room. And I'm not interested in hitting on any of them, or any random person with whom I come into contact in any random public place. And you know what, Family Research Council? Letting gay kids into the Boy Scouts will not mean they will hit on other scouts either.


5. Demanding equal rights in all aspects of my life doesn't mean that I'm "persecuting" those who steadfastly cling to inequality. Contrary to what Newt Gingrich believes, religious rights are not being "outlawed" by equal rights.


6. Contrary to what Pat Robertson believes, I do not deserve to be equated with rapists and murderers because of my sexual orientation. And while people may hide who they really are, or choose to live a life in denial, you cannot "change" your sexual orientation.


7. Gay people are not "unclean" or an "abomination."


8. No matter what they believe in African countries like Uganda and Zambia (where a gay couple's parents turned them into the government just recently)—or how they act in nearly every state in the U.S. and many countries—gay people aren't deserving of death or violence against them. Oh, wait. No one is.

Thanks for listening. And if you're confused, try reading this again.

And a little child shall lead them...

A 4th grade teacher posted the above essay to Reddit, saying, "One of my 4th grade students chose gay marriage as his topic for a persuasive essay. This is the result. More sense than some adults."

Out of the mouths of babes, indeed. And not a bad argument. Maybe this student can share their views with Paul Cameron, a prominent health researcher, who told Senator Rob Portman (R-OH) that he should renounce his support for marriage equality and convince his gay son to marry a woman.

Diff'rent strokes to move the world...