Friday night, we had quite a rainstorm. It was loud and flashy and lasted several hours. Jasper and Ziva hid.
Karin took this video from our living room window:
The next day, when Karin & I went to the zoo, hardly anyone else was around, what with everything so wet. I’m glad we waited until this weekend to use our free tickets.
One of the lions was in fine form:
Tonight, Karin’s dad bought us chicken wings for Karin’s birthday:
The two youngsters in the photo are Julian, Karin’s stepbrother from one of her dad’s previous marriages, and Lily, Karin’s sister.
It seems Karin & I won’t be moving to Muncie. I was notified of my rejection this morning.
1996 is still an innocent time, dragon-wise. The cynicism of Game of Thrones hasn’t yet pervaded the post-Arthurian, pre-Chaucerian world of DragonHeart.
The young Prince Einon is trained by Bowen (Dennis Quaid), a “knight of the Old Code.” Bowen teaches Einon to swordfight and to do good.
Rebellious peasants kill Einon’s tyrannical father. Einon, too, is mortally wounded. But before he can die, his mother, Queen Aislinn (Julie Christie), takes him into the lair of an old worm named Draco. The dragon has the power to heal Einon. But first, Bowen, the knight, must swear an oath to bring up Einon in line with the Old Code.
After Bowen takes the oath, Draco inserts a piece of his own heart into Einon’s chest. Not only does this restore Einon to health, it makes him invulnerable.
Years pass. It’s dismaying to see King Einon (David Thewlis) grown up worse than his father, torturing, enslaving, and killing peasants.
Bowen blames the dragon’s heart for Einon’s corruption. Bitterly, he leaves the court and takes revenge against any dragon he can find.
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What follows this dark prologue is a hilarious Muppet-like romp through the British countryside. I say “Muppet-like” because its protagonist, Draco, is a benevolent monster. He isn’t a puppet – at least, not in every scene; usually, he seems computer-generated. But he’s awfully cuddly for an old lizard. Some of his expressions seem almost feline. He’s lifelike and absurd.
Best of all, he’s voiced by Sean Connery.
Draco reencounters Bowen and convinces him to become his partner in con artistry. The two lapsed adherents of the Old Code traverse the countryside, swindling peasants of their money. To do the swindle, Draco pretends to die in a manner that generates considerable slapstick humor, not unlike the false hangings in such Westerns as The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
It’s all very silly and formulaic; thankfully, the movie doesn’t aspire not to be. One particularly ripe old chestnut, served up during the opening scene, you may recall from a 1971 Wizard of Id collection:
(DragonHeart isn’t even the first movie to recycle this joke: see it done by Mel Brooks in 1981.)
A monk (Peter Postlethwaite) follows Draco and Bowen, commenting on the action like a Greek chorus.
In one scene, the monk climbs up on a large, gray rock and begins to recite obnoxiously from a scroll. Beneath his feet, a fiery eye twitches open. The rock is Draco in natural camouflage. The monk is scared out of his wits.
Later, in preparation for the obligatory battle against King Einon, the monk will become an excellent archer.
Another notable warrior is a peasant girl, Kara (Dina Meyer). Einon wishes to make her his bride. (This, too, already has been done in movies.) She’d rather kill him for his vile treatment of her father. For that matter, she’d rather kill than marry anyone. But in time she grows attracted to Bowen.
Recall that because he has a dragon’s heart in his chest, Einon is invulnerable. How this issue is resolved, I won’t tell; maybe you can guess. Also, it goes without saying that before they can defeat Einon, Bowen and Draco must remember what it is to follow the Old Code. No more may they swindle the peasants. (The movie always has been on the peasants’ side, anyway.)
Original plotting isn’t DragonHeart’s strength. That’s all right. Draco is loveable. He has a noble heart. Once he follows its promptings, the rest of his universe rights itself, too.
Karin & I watched Hoosiers tonight. It was the first time Karin had seen it. I’d seen it many times, but not for several years.
The kitties watched with us.
John-Paul: “Jasper, are you a Hoosier?”
Karin (for Jasper): “Yes, I’m a son of the state.”
The last time I’d seen Hoosiers, I was living in upstate New York. Somehow, this time, I didn’t recall that Norman Dale (the Gene Hackman character) had coached in Ithaca.
On this viewing, I was unsettled by how awfully the Indiana townspeople treat Norman. What always used to seem like a plot device or local color or even comedy this time impressed me as straightforwardly realistic. The self-loathing townspeople are suspicious of any assured outsider who’ll settle among them; they set themselves against Norman from the beginning. “Upstanding” citizens, men who hold power, nearly run Norman out of town; but the same poisoned attitude is evinced by an “enlightened” schoolteacher (Barbara Hershey).
Yes, I thought, I’ve seen this sort of thing in Indiana (and not only in Indiana).
Of course, by the end of the movie, Norman has repaired the basketball team and steered it toward glory, gaining the town’s allegiance and pulling up some of its sad-sacks (the players, the aforementioned teacher, and, especially, the town drunk, movingly portrayed by Dennis Hopper). It’s hard not to rejoice in the conclusion. “That was such a nice movie,” Karin said; and I agree.
Whether the ending is credible depends on whether one believes in divine grace. Norman isn’t much of a Christian; apart from that detail, though, he is a tenacious missionary.
Let me be clear that I haven’t intended to denigrate Hoosiers, even if this time I’ve viewed it with a jaded perspective. This is my dear grandpa’s favorite movie – and with good reason. What it celebrates about Indiana, it shows lovingly and truly. The best thing about the movie is its compassion – for a people, and for the worker who goes to them. This is evident from the first shots of him traveling, lonely, between fields at dawn, surveying the countryside, hoping for a new beginning.
Today it’s my turn to be ill, though, so far, my suffering has been less than Karin’s.
John-Paul: “Are you still infirm, dearest love?”
Karin: “No. I just have the residual coughing.”
John-Paul: “The residual coughing?”
Karin: “The coughing that goes on for two more weeks.”
We keep on acquiring furniture: today, we received a metal bookcase that used to belong to the public library. Karin has filled half of the shelves with cloth diapers.
She’s also rearranged our bedroom, bringing out the cardboard box that the newborn will sleep in, as well as the metal grate that will cover it to keep out Jasper and Ziva.
Karin has been ill since the weekend, with symptoms of cold and fever. She began feeling especially poorly on Saturday after we completed a six-hour parenting class. She rested all of Sunday and returned to work on Monday.
On Tuesday, after seeing a doctor, she felt well enough to go with me to Muncie, Indiana, about three hours to the southeast, so I could interview for a job. Afterward, we toured the town to get a clearer idea of what it’d be like to live there. We saw the fringes of Ball State University; Muncie Central High School, which lost to Milan High School in the famous Indiana High School Boys Basketball Tournament of 1954; numerous statues of a Native American warrior; and occasional references to Garfield, which is set in Muncie (its cartoonist, Jim Davis, is from that region). We also became very familiar with the scenery between Muncie and South Bend.
Our son behaved normally through all of this. Karin & I received no indication that he was silently experiencing Karin’s illness. (This evening, watching House, M.D., we were reminded of that possibility when we observed Hugh Laurie try out a medicine by inducing a migraine in a comatose patient.) Our boy’s organ systems have developed about as much as they will inside the womb. Now, he’s putting on fat and enjoying a few more days of peace.
On Sunday, our church held the second (and final) gift shower for our son. It was simpler than the first shower. Most donors gave money – not clothes, books, or contraptions.
We also were served so many tacos and cupcakes that I’ve been eating the leftovers ever since.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
The child is due to be born in mid-October, but, as far as I’m concerned, he’s ready to come out. (Ah, well, what do I know.)
Tomorrow, Karin & I will go to another appointment with a doctor from the rotation at the women’s health center. The last doctor we met called our son a “critter.”
Just think, says Karin, what if, on the day of birthing, it’s THAT doctor who happens to be on call. “Here’s your critter,” he’ll announce.
Two appointments ago, we met a fellow patient who’s married to one of my friends from Bethel. She was going on their third child – and, I believe, their eighteenth dachshund.
I had a bizarre series of interviews with a certain company.
On Wednesday, I met with some of the company’s top people about job X. You are a very strong candidate, they told me. We will certainly consider you for this job. But would you mind also being considered for jobs Y and Z?
All right, I said.
On Thursday, I got a call. My résumé had been passed on to the director of job Y. Would I come in for an interview on Friday morning?
All right.
(It was good that Mary had helped me to choose two sets of interviewing clothes.)
During the interview for job Y, I was told I was overqualified. Something like job Z would be more suitable, and it would pay better. Would I like to go to the highest floor to meet the very top person in the company? He’d seen my résumé and asked to be introduced to me.
OK.
The very top person was in a meeting with other top people. I was ushered into their presence. The very top person leaped up. What sort of work would you REALLY like to do?, he asked.
I told him.
The very top person turned to one of the other top people. Do we have any jobs like that available?
Yes. Z-1 or Z-2.
Would you like to go down to Human Resources to start the paperwork?, the very top person asked me.
Yes.
(This last interview took less than a minute.)
The director of job Y took me downstairs to the human resources department, congratulated me, and went away to continue interviewing candidates for job Y. After a while, two human resources workers appeared.
Yes?, they said.
I’m here about either job Z-1 or job Z-2.
Those jobs are not available.
But this person, that person, and the other person said they were.
Well, they aren’t. Perhaps you would be interested in [other job]?
I’d have to think about it, I said. I left the building. I felt like I’d just passed a series of complicated video game levels only to come back out in level 1.
That afternoon, I had a phone interview with a different company located out of town. It lasted fifteen minutes and was much more straightforward. It was about whether I could do specific tasks, not what would satisfy my innermost longings.
I hope to find out early next week whether I’ve made the first cut.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
I wish to thank Karin for going online and figuring out how to tie a Windsor knot for me. In five minutes, she accomplished what I’d been trying to do for about an hour.
That isn’t all she’s figured out how to do. Some fruit flies have infested our kitchen. Karin went online and learned how to build a trap for them. She used a jar with an old banana peel in it.
As you can see, the flies have been trapped in the jar, but they’re doing better than ever. Karin, out of tenderness, has refused to put immobilizing dish soap in the jar. Now the flies are enjoying their fruit and each other, and they’re making children. In effect, as Karin’s friend Nora put it, Karin has built a fruit fly love nest. From time to time, a fly escapes the jar.
On Sunday, we attended a large, Amish-style meal for the birthday of Karin’s grandpa. Then, yesterday, we entertained visitors from noon until five. We liked those visitors, but it was a tiring conclusion to the weekend (what with our sitting in chairs all those hours).
Now that Labor Day has ended, the real labor must begin.
No, not the kind that produces a child. That can wait another month. What I mean is, tomorrow I’ll have another job interview – the fifth one of this job search (I guess I’m not so impressive in the flesh).
Tonight, Karin & I went to our church’s small group meeting. One of the children who’d tagged along volunteered to pray for us:
“Dear God, I pray that John-Paul gets hired so that he and Karin can have lots of money to buy things for the baby.”
Mary took me to the store to help choose some clothes for tomorrow’s interview. After I brought them home, Karin realized that the security tag was still attached to one of my new shoes. She spent an hour figuring out how to pry it off without spilling ink everywhere (that’s what the tag is designed to do to shoplifters). I offered to help, but she was intent on doing it herself.
She watched YouTube videos about how to pry it off with a couple of forks. In the end, she managed with a flathead screwdriver, the claw of a hammer, and some pliers.
