A Proposal of Love

Can love truly change a person?

Romance movies, in general, and “The Proposal,” in particular, beg the question.

(Before we go any further, I’d like to suggest that you listen to Tracy Chapman’s song “Change” as you read—or at least when you finish reading.)

In “The Proposal,” Sandra Bullock, plays high-powered book editor Margaret Tate, who is facing deportation back to Canada. The quick-thinking exec declares that she's actually engaged to her unsuspecting put-upon assistant, Andrew Paxton (played by Ryan Reynolds), who she's tormented for years.

He agrees to participate in the charade, but with a few conditions of his own. The unlikely couple heads to Alaska to meet his quirky family, and the always-in-control city girl finds herself in one comedic fish-out-of-water situation after another. With an impromptu wedding in the works and an immigration official on their heels, Margaret and Andrew reluctantly vow to stick to the plan despite the precarious consequences.

Sandra Bullock is a beautiful, charming, funny actress who has seldom found (or chosen) material equal to her abilities—and “The Proposal” is no different.

The movie’s not bad as romantic comedies go, but it’s not great, doesn’t take advantage of many opportunities and situations, lacks chemistry, and never really gets going before it’s over—though Betty White is a bright spot (as usual).

The premise of the “The Proposal” is that Andrew’s and his family’s love for Margaret (and her love for him and them) can change her.

It’s a nice notion—one I happen to subscribe to, but not in a heady weekend whirlwind wedding way.

Romances claim that finding the right person and “falling” in love is life changing. They are often trite, cliché-ridden, and involve far more attraction and infatuation than actual love, but beneath their shallow surface and behind their enduring popularity is the notion that love changes things—and might just change everything.

Does love change a person? Does anything else?

Love changes us when we let it, when we open ourselves up to it, remove any blockages in our lives so that it might flow to and then through us.

I’m convinced love changes us—that nothing determines the people we are more than love or its absence. Not the “falling in love” of romances, which is, in part, the euphoria of illusion, but the unconditional love that comes from God—love as a choice, love as an experience, love as a lifestyle, love as a philosophy, love as a religion, love as compassion (feeling what others feel) that motivates us to extend ourselves on the behalf of others, love that, unlike “romantic love” which is all about attraction and desire (largely self-centered stuff), is not based on the beloved (his or her qualities , attractiveness, or worthiness).

There’s a lot of wisdom in separating love from like, from desire and attraction and infatuation. There are so many things we call love that just aren’t.

Love as illusion, as infatuation, as the projection of perfection onto a person can change us temporarily, but love as a choice made every moment, as an end of illusions, as an act of generosity, as accepting someone the way they are, has the greatest chance of changing us no less than those we love.

Love as a feeling fades (waxes and wanes, ebbs and flows). Love as a lifestyle, as a worldview, as a religion, as a commitment despite how we feel, grows, expands, engulfs.

In the simple and profound lyrics of Clint Black:

Love is certain, love is kind
Love is yours and love is mine
But it isn't something that we find
It's something that we do.
We're on a road that has no end
And each day we begin again
Love's not just something that we're in
It's something that we do.
There's no request too big or small
We give ourselves, we give our all
Love isn't someplace that we fall
It's something that we do.

Clint is right. Love isn’t a condition, it’s an action. Love isn’t something that happens to us, it’s a lifestyle choice.

You could do worse for romantic comedy movie time than spending it at “The Proposal,” but it’s the film’s implicit question that we should spend our time reflecting on whether we see the movie or not.

I propose we commit ourselves to love—to embracing, accepting, and giving, to unconditionally extending ourselves on the behalf of others—not just those we’re attracted to, or who are like us, but also, or especially, to those who don’t love us back, to even our enemies, and see what happens. True change will occur—in us if no one else.

Two Summer Entertainments That Deliver

Give me art over entertainment any day. In fact, my days are spent doing my best to create and consume art.
In art, something deep calls to something deep within us, something profound is explored, experienced.

Art affects us in ways we’re not even aware of—nor will even ever fully understand. We’re usually pretty aware of what entertainment is doing to us—even when we willingly suspend disbelief and gladly give into the manipulation.
Art feeds the soul. Entertainment offers escape, diversion, short-lived pleasure—like a big slice of key lime pie.

Still, there’s a place for entertainment (I happen to love Florida’s official pie). Entertainment, like dessert, makes life sweeter, and that’s no small thing.

As far as entertainment goes, you could do a lot worse than “The Hangover” for laughs and “The Taking of Pelham 123” for thrills.

In “The Hangover,” two days before Doug Billings wedding, the four men in the wedding party hop into his soon-to-be father-in-law’s Mercedes convertible for a 24-hour stag party to Las Vegas.

Phil, a married high school teacher, has the same maturity level as his students when he's with his pals. Stu, a dentist, is worried about everything, especially what his controlling girlfriend, Melissa, thinks. Because she disapproves of traditional male bonding rituals, Phil has to lie to her about the stag, telling her that they are going on a wine tasting tour in the Napa Valley. Alan, Doug’s future brother-in-law, seems to be unaware of what are considered to be the social graces of the western world.

The morning after their arrival in Las Vegas, three of the four men awaken in their hotel suite with an amnesiac hangover. The suite is in shambles, the past twelve hours are a blank, and Doug is missing. As Phil, Stu and Alan try to find Doug by piecing together clue by clue, they go on a journey of discovery, of debauchery, that’s both disturbing and hilarious.

As adults, we have the need for fun, for escape, for freedom, no less than children—and probably far more. Entertainment, like trips to Vegas, provide this. But we need more than just an occasional movie or getaway. We need to incorporate an atmosphere of carnival in our daily lives, learning to enjoy ourselves along the way—not live in little boxes like prison cells we try to escape from any chance we get. We should sing and dance and celebrate everyday for the gift it is—enjoying the pleasures of our bodies and souls, of art and music and literature and charity, and the good company of other partying pilgrims. If we do, we’ll have far less to escape from, and we’ll begin to understand Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom of God as a party.

If waking up in Vegas isn’t your thing, perhaps I could interest you in a ride on the subway.

Before this recent collaboration, director Tony Scott and actor Denzel Washington teamed up on “Crimson Tide,” “Man on Fire,” and “Déjà Vu.” And while “Pelham” isn’t anywhere near as good as their best, “Man on Fire,” it holds up well enough next to the others.

In “The Taking of Pelham 123,” Denzel Washington stars as New York City subway dispatcher Walter Garber, whose ordinary day is thrown into chaos by an audacious crime: the hijacking of a subway train. John Travolta stars as Ryder, the criminal mastermind who, as leader of a highly-armed gang of four, threatens to execute the train’s passengers unless a large ransom is paid within one hour. As the tension mounts beneath his feet, Garber must use every resource and ounce of experience he has in a battle to outwit Ryder and save the hostages.

Walter Garber, flawed, everyman though he is, acts heroically, and speaks to that which is heroic in us all. He challenges us to rise to the challenges we’re given, extending ourselves on the behalf of others—the very definition of love. Does that mean there’s nothing more heroic than a life dedicated to love? I certainly believe that.

You won’t find anything original or groundbreaking in either of these flicks, but what they do, even when overly familiar, they do well. And though technically, only “Pelham” is a true remake, there have been so many buddy/bachelor party/Vegas movies made that “Hangover” might as well be. Regardless, it works—both movies do. “Hangover” is laugh-out-loud funny and “Pelham” is edge-of-your-seat exciting. Neither film rises to the level of art, but both do what they’re intended to. Dare we ask more of light studio-produced summer entertainment?

Old Pros Deliver New Thrills

John Sandford and Michael Connelly have been writing thrillers for decades, but after a combined forty plus books, they still manage to keep it fresh.

Wicked Prey

John Sandford’s “Wicked Prey” is the 19th Lucas Davenport thriller. It’s set in September of 2008 during the Republican convention in St. Paul, Minnesota.

For most of the delegates, guests, reporters, and locals, it's a festive event, an occasion for having a good time and experiencing a unique moment in history. For law enforcement officials, however, it offers a grab-bag of potentially embarrassing dangers, from small-fry con men to major stickup artists.

For Lucas Davenport, this teeming, suddenly raucous city harbors one special threat: A psychopath with a poisoned memory, a gun, and a plan. And it turns out that he's not the only crazy person out there.

As usual, there’s plenty of action and suspense, and though Lucas is aging, slowing a step, this only adds to the richness of the character and the series. And that’s the appeal of these kinds of books—the chance to spend a little time (over the course of a lifetime) with an old familiar friend. Sure, it’s entertaining to take the chilling, suspenseful ride with him, but it’s Lucas and the supporting cast that keeps me coming back, not the sociopath of the month or the crime he or she is up to.

The Scarecrow

Michael Connelly’s “The Scarecrow” is truly scary, but not for the reasons you might imagine. Sure it has the normal thrills and chills of a good suspense novel, but the scariest aspects of “The Scarecrow” don’t involve serial killers, nor even the victims of murder. Like recent movie, “State of Play,” the scariest parts of “The Scarecrow” are those dealing with the demise of newspapers and print journalism.

Forced out of the “Los Angeles Times” amid the latest budget cuts, newspaperman Jack McEvoy decides to go out with a bang, using his final days at the paper to write the definitive murder story of his career.

He focuses on Alonzo Winslow, a 16-year-old drug dealer in jail after confessing to a brutal murder. But as he delves into the story, Jack realizes that Winslow's so-called confession is bogus. The kid might actually be innocent.

Jack is soon running with his biggest story since The Poet made his career years ago. He is tracking a killer who operates completely below police radar--and with perfect knowledge of any move against him. Including Jack's.

Michael Connelly began his writing career as a reporter, and though a novelist for the past two decades, he continues to report. His richly textured, well researched novels are exciting and entertaining, but not just—they also provide illumination and insight into a corner of our culture most readers are unaware of, making Mr.
Connelly the perfect blend of reporter and novelist.

Using his journalistic eye for detail, his research is impeccable, filling each book with what’s actually happening in the Los Angeles Police Department, the legal system, or, this time, the newspaper business.

Using his reporter’s instinct for a story with legs, Mr. Connelly takes readers on a twisting, suspenseful journey, but with an underlying realism and credibility many commercial thrillers lack.

In many ways, Michael Connelly is like the Alfred Hitchcock of crime novels—providing readers with thoughtful, well executed suspense and receiving both critical acclaim and commercial success for his efforts.

Michael Connelly, the #1 New York Times bestseller, is coming to Panama City. He will be the keynote speaker of The 10th Annual Gulf Coast Writers Conference on September, 19, 2009 at Gulf Coast Community College. He is joining us for our special 10th anniversary celebration. If you’d like to join us for the conference or just for the luncheon featuring Mr. Connelly, you register at www.GulfCoastWritersConference.com Don’t miss this exciting opportunity to meet Michael Connelly.

Commence To a Life Worth Living!

A commencement isn’t just a long, often dull ceremony associated with graduation. It actually means to make a beginning, and since life is a series of beginnings (and endings and new beginnings), commencement speeches aren’t just for graduates, they’re for all of us (particularly those of us who dare to be lifelong students).

If we are truly to learn, to grow, to become our very best selves, we must be willing and open students. After all, it’s only when the student is ready that the teacher will come! If we’re closed, uncurious, defensive in our ideologies and theologies, we won’t learn. We can’t. All we can do is continue to see what we expect to, continue to have confirmed for us what we already believe. It’s sad—no it’s more than that. It’s tragic, but most of us are stiff-necked, unteachable, ego-centered, missing moment after moment, opportunity after opportunity to learn, to grow, to evolve.

During this commencement season, I’d like to offer two profound books—both of which are transcripts of speeches by two brilliant writers.

I’m not recommending you buy these for your niece who’s graduating college or your wife’s cousin’s son who’s graduating high school—it’s fine if you do, but I’m recommending that you and I read them, hear them, consume them, digest them, live them.

Part of the reason Anna Quindlen’s “A Short Guide to a Happy Life” was published was because her speech was written, but never given. It’s a shame the students at the institution she was uninvited to didn’t get to hear her elegant, insightful, truthful speech, but it’s wonderful that it’s available to all of us in a small, picture-filled gift book.

Among the many erudite things in this small volume, Quindlen says, “I suppose the best advice I could give you is: get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion. Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over the dunes. Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love and who love you. Get a life in which you are generous. Get a life where you live by the words of this poem by Gwendolyn Brooks: Exhaust the little moment, soon it dies. And be it gash or gold, it will not come again in this identical disguise. Get a life where you remember that life is short. The knowledge of our mortality is the greatest gift God ever gave us.”

Get a life! Get Anna Quindlen’s “A Short Guide to a Happy Life” to learn how.

Just as profound, but far more heartbreaking, is David Foster Wallace’s commencement address given in 2005 at Kenyon College, published as “This is Water: Some Thoughts Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life.”
The four-thousand word speech is so simple it’s sublime and makes a nice companion to Quindlen’s.
Wallace, who has been called the greatest writer of his generation, asks the questions: How does one keep from going through his or her comfortable, prosperous adult life unconsciously? How do we get ourselves out of the foreground of our thoughts and achieve compassion?

The short speech captures Wallace's inimitable intellect and his humble grace, blending casual humor with practical philosophy.

Since his suicide, the speech and now the book have become a kind of cult classic, but it needn’t have taken that for this wise, kind talk to find a wide audience.

I often say that the best education doesn’t teach us knowledge or even wisdom so much as teach us how to be students for life, and I think this is true—that the bulk of our truest education is gained on our own once we have the tools, openness, humility, and desire to learn.

Wallace tackles a slightly different, but related notion—that a liberal arts education isn’t about filling you up with knowledge, “isn’t really about the capacity to think, but rather the choice of what to think about.”

We all have the freedom not only to choose to think or not, but what we think about.

He goes on to say, “But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. That is being taught to think.”
And what should we do with this freedom to think about what we want to? Wallace argues (and I couldn’t agree more) that we apply it toward compassion, toward deprogramming our default settings of self-centeredness and unconsciousness and instead think compassionately about those we encounter today—regardless of what reaction we receive from them.

Both Quindlen and Wallace are wise guides for good lives. Get their books and get to commencing—to getting a life of love and meaning and generosity—then do what the brilliant Frederick Buechner says to do: “Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. Touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are sacred moments and life itself is grace.”