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Last Saturday night there was, for a change, a smorgasbord of critically acclaimed movies on the menu at theaters in the Columbus area:       (This movie I saw the night before. It had received a 5-star, 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. I didn't get it. At all. I thought it was the blandest, blah-est movie I'd seen since the last Greta Gerwig movie I saw.* It'll probably win an academy award.  But all I really wanted to see was A Bad Moms Christmas.  Like much of the country, I was feeling in sore need of a laugh. And some cheer. And some heart. And I'd loved the first Bad Moms movie (See post from 7/29/2017).  ...the story of three stressed-out young working moms who weren’t making the grade in the expectations held up for “good” mothers, especially in the eyes of the hyper-organized Class Mothers and leaders of the PTO who appeared to have their own domestic acts seamlessly together.  The plotline of “Bad Moms” follows the chain of events that unwinds when the harried Everymoms decide to chuck it all and be Bad Moms who start indulging in such disreputable maternal negligence as serving their kids cold cereal for breakfast, making their kids fix their own lunches, letting the laundry pile up and bringing store-bought cookies for the school bake sale. Such a great laugh did I – and all the other moms who filled the theater the evening I saw the movie - get from “Bad Moms” that I yearned to relive the laughter in the sequel. And “A Bad Moms Christmas” delivered.  In this second episode (of what I hope will turn into a long-lived franchise) of the saga of the Bad Moms, the Moms are frazzled, exhausted and maxed-out trying to make the perfect Christmas for their families, in addition to having to trawl the mall in search of Christmas gifts for everyone they know. 
 Once again at the end of their collective rope, the Moms decide to pitch the holiday-hoopla, relax, and enjoy the holidays. 
 And so the hilarious tension rises as the characters act out in the funniest way the push/pull of need, guilt, aggravation, and ultimately love that defines the mother - adult daughter relationship - especially during holiday gatherings. And though, as one who’s been on both sides of that equation I could definitely relate to the mother – daughter dynamic, one doesn’t have to be a mother or a daughter to get a kick out of the comedy the script and these actresses provide. So my advice this season is to put the deep, cerebral, intellectually challenging film critics-choices on hold ‘til the new year. What the world really needs for Christmas is a good laugh. 
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For a number of years the Christmas season began for me on the first weekend in December with a performance of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra Holiday Pops. Actually, four performances. That was back when my daughter Theresa was a member of the Columbus Children's Choir.  Theresa, here with Columbus Children's Choir Director Dr. Sandra Matthias.  Christmas was back then - and I assume, still is - a busy time for the Choir, especially the most advanced section of the choir, the red-coated New World Singers, as, on top of the standard twice-weekly two-hour practices, they performed at holiday festivities around the city, such as the lighting of the Columbus Zoo lights, the lighting of the City Hall Christmas tree, several city and corporate events, and, always the highlight of the season for the Choir, the Columbus Symphony Orchestra Holiday Pops. The Holiday Pops is a festive yearly holiday program of classical pieces, Hanukkah and Christmas songs and ballet interpretations of Christmas themes performed in downtown Columbus at the Ohio Theater by the Columbus Symphony Orchestra with the Symphony Chorus, members of Columbus Ballet Met, a singing Santa and Mrs. Claus, And the Columbus Children's Choir, all under the direction of CSO Chorus Director Ron Jenkins.  There are four performances over the first weekend in December and when Theresa was part of the Holiday Pops I'd watch all four performances since parents of members of the Children's Choir could get discounted (or maybe free, I don't exactly remember now) tickets. The Holiday Pops is a long haul for the Choir kids, with a Friday night performance, Saturday matinee and evening performances, and a another Sunday matinee. And yet my daughter and her Choir friends loved the excitement of the Holiday Pops, especially the Saturday performances. Back in those days there used to be attached to the Ohio Theater a beautiful downtown shopping mall called the City Center (now long gone, sadly, replaced by a parking garage),  ...where the young Choir members would snack, hang out, and sometimes gigglingly sneak an ice cream (dairy and soda being verboten to the singers before a performance) between the matinee and evening performances, chaperoned, of course, by us parents, though we did strive to stay in the background.  I always thought it added to the holiday cheer and color of the City Center at that time of year to see the red-coated youngsters strolling the mall that day between the Holiday Pops performances. Much as I used to love the Holiday Pops during those years when Theresa sang with the Columbus Children's Choir, after she left the Choir in high school I never went to another Holiday Pops performance. Until this year. This year for some reason I had a hankering after a 15-year gap to go see the Holiday Pops again. So a couple of Saturdays ago Tom accommodated my wish, and we headed downtown to the Ohio Theater to see the Holiday Pops.  The Ohio Theater was crowded and decked out for the event,   ...though this theater is such a neat old place in and of itself even without added adornment.           Before the main performance a group of singers from the Santa Maria section of the Children's Choir sang Christmas Carols in beautiful harmony, getting us all in the Christmas spirit, and already bringing back memories for Tom and me.  The first half of the Holiday Pops program was, as usual, a mix of lovely instrumental, choral, and dance pieces,   ...the music provided by the orchestra and chorus, everyone accessorized with a splash of holiday red. 
 ...when the New World Singers joined the orchestra and chorus on stage,  ...and the Santa Marias sang from the balcony,  ...I felt myself getting emotional with memories, seeing in all those young faces, (and seeing Dr. Mathias, Former Director Emerita of the Choir, singing in the row directly behind the children),  ...the face of my Theresa all those years ago.  ...and when, with the arrival of Santa and Mrs. Claus,  ...all the performers donned Santa hats and a row of singing, swaying "reindeer" lined up across the front of the stage,  (looking more like bunnies than reindeer), 
 ...here horsing (reindeering?) around with some of her fellow 'deer.  The cheery, upbeat tune "We Need A Little Christmas," with which the singers and orchestra closed the show made me tear up. But then I guess that's what happens when you come for the memories as much as the music.  Need a last-minute gift for a book-lover? You can pick up a copy of "Equal And Opposite Reactions"
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...or https://www.barnesandnoble.com/ Last Friday night Tom, myself, and our good friends Kevin and Barb went on a Christmas-seeking excursion.  And while there are many Christmas-inducing venues to be found in Columbus, Ohio, such as Wildlights at the Columbus Zoo,  ...The Village Lights in German Village, 
 ...and the Scioto Mile, to name but a few,  ...we opted to seek out some Christmas spirit at Easton Town Center, which we found all seasonably lit up and decked out, both inside,  ...and outside.  However we decided before taking in the lights and sights to start off the evening at the Easton AMC where we saw the movie "The Man Who Invented Christmas."  ...which, in spite of the schmaltzy and somewhat misleading title, was a really great film. Or so thought I. The movie tells the story of a moment in the life of Charles Dickens when, following the fame and fortune he achieved from the publication of "Oliver Twist," Dickens had out-spent his income, written three commercial flops and subsequently found himself drowning in debt and on the verge of financial ruin, which, in 19th Century London, could well send a man and his family to one of that city's notorious workhouse prisons. In the film we see a portrait of Charles Dickens, gripped by writer's block and the demons that still haunted him from his childhood of poverty, hunger and as a child laborer in a sweatshop boot-blacking company, struggling to produce another marketable book.  The obvious irony at play is that Charles Dickens, now a world-famous author for his story of wretched poverty in London's orphanages and workhouses, stares in the face the possibility that he and his family could end up in the same straits as the suffering characters in his novel. The movie takes on the feel of a psychological thriller as Dickens, under the gun by publishers, printers, book artists and creditors, paces his office, trolls the streets of London, and wracks his brain searching for inspiration, characters and the bits and pieces of the powerfully moving story of greed, poverty, and redemption that eventually becomes "A Christmas Carol." After the movie, feeling inspired and uplifted (well, at least I was), we strolled around Easton, enjoying the magical displays,        ...and talking about the movie (at least I was). "I think you liked that movie the best of us all," said Tom. Well, I did love the movie.
 ...the scenes from Charles' Dickens' childhood and of his life as a father, husband and dutiful son in a large, loving but often chaotic family, the chaos usually of his own making. I loved that the character of cold-hearted, penny-pinching Scrooge was the diametric opposite of Dickens, who was an extravagant spender not only on himself but on charitable causes as well, feeling a need to give money to every beggar on the streets of London.  But I mostly loved the scenes of Charles Dickens' writing life, his habit of writing down interesting names he'd hear in passing, how the characters in his head became so real that he could see and talk to them, how they became an ever-present part of his life, following him around wherever he went,  ...and how the world of stories and characters playing out inside his head was constantly being interrupted by the demands of family life and life in general. All things that I could identify with, as can all writers. My favorite line from the movie was from Dickens, crying out in frustration, "My characters won't do what I want them to do!" Neither will mine. Alas, one doesn't have to be a Charles Dickens to struggle with demons, recalcitrant characters and writer's block.  Looking for something to do tomorrow, Saturday, December 16 at 10 am?
 It was around 10:30 last night when I received the text from my daughter Claire who lives in Chicago: "Are you still awake?" the text asked. Was I still awake? Hecks yes I was, wide awake and doing the happy dance to the sparkly celebratory fireworks shooting off in my brain. In fact I'd been bounding up the stairs to announce to Tom the latest and last update to the news that we'd both been approach-avoiding all night: the results of the Alabama Senate race, between Republican Roy Moore,  ...and Democrat Doug Jones.  All night long I'd been telling myself that I wasn't going to spend the night returns-checking just before I'd click over to CNN to check the latest Alabama returns. "Want to hear the latest?" I'd call out to the kitchen to Tom, who didn't want to hear. "No, I don't want to hear," he'd call back before meandering into the family room just to have a quick peek at the returns. "Moore's still ahead. Just great," he'd sigh before returning to the kitchen. "Moore's gonna win," he'd then call from the kitchen, "I don't want to know any more." 
At 10:00, the last counties - Hale, Dallas and Chambers - still not in (Hale, Dallas, Chambers, Hale Dallas, Chambers, Hale, Dallas, Chambers, I must have checked those counties fifty times in the last half hour of the race), Tom said, "I'm going to bed. I really don't want to know anymore." He popped downstairs only once about 10 minutes later, by which time Dallas was the only unannounced county and the race was tied at Moore 49.5, Jones 49.5. "Tom, look" I said softly in disbelief, "Dallas County is in the heart of Blue territory. Jones could win this." "Or Dallas could come in Red. Or it could come in Blue but without enough votes to pull off a definitive win for Jones. I'm really going to bed now." Over the next twenty minutes the percentage of votes counted in Dallas county ticked up, up, up, until at 10:30 the race was called for Doug Jones. Claire immediately texted me and I called her right back. "I have to tell Dad," I bubbled to Claire, "then I have to text Tommy and Emily and Theresa and Callie! And Maria in Los Angeles, somebody has to call Maria! Do you want to call your sister?" "You can call her, Mom," Claire chuckled, graciously ceding to me my right as family Matriarch. So it was my happy prerogative to share the late-night good news with my loved ones, some of whom already knew it. How funny this is, I thought, as we all exulted in the outcome of this election, it's like re-living last year's election, but on the flip side; by this time on November 8 of last year I knew already that Trump had won the election, and an evening that started out with happy expectation ended with numbing shock and despondency. And now this night a year later that began with a dull sense of despondency has ended with a joyful shock of celebration and hope. "What are you doing?" I asked my daughter Maria who on L.A. time was three hours ahead of us. I could hear the bouncy prattle of my grand children in the background. "Putting the kids to bed," she said. "Have you heard the news on the Alabama election?" "No," she said somberly. "I've avoided looking at the news all day. I figured tomorrow would be soon enough." "Jones won," I told her. "No," she replied. "Yes," said I. "No!" she cried. "Yes!" I cried, "Doug Jones won!" The bigoted, homophobic, white supremacist, Bible-thumping, lying, child-molester wouldn't have a seat or a say in the Senate. "Wow," said my daughter, "wow." She wanted me to stay on the line while she called my son-in-law, who was still at work, so that we could both surprise him with the election results. The good news duly shared once again, I said to my daughter, "Now you can get back to putting the kids to bed." "I was putting the kids to bed," she joked, "but now I have to party!" Thank you, Alabama. Thank you.
 Do you like books? Want to know what to read next? Or are you an indie author or publisher looking to produce an audio book (or books)? So asks yourbookmybook.com,  ...a podcast out of suburban Columbus, Ohio that features independent and published authors and connects readers to authors through its podcasts, webcasts and book events in the Columbus area,    ...and which has recently expanded to the production of an audio-book-author-interview package; that is to say, an audio book that includes a bonus yourbookmybook.com podcast interview with the author.  I first heard of yourbookmybook.com when I was chosen to be one of the authors interviewed at the Mid-Ohio Indie Authors Book Expo,  Here's the link for the video of my interview: https://www.facebook.com/yourbookmybook/videos/1927625530828337/ ...where I spent an afternoon back in August hawking my book (and giving away doughnuts in honor of chapter seven and chocolate cupcakes in honor of chapter eighteen). (See post from 8/14/2014)  It was there at the Indie Expo that I met Miguel Lopez, yourbookmybook.com creator and media production coordinator.  After my interview Miguel and I got to talking and I learned that his podcast has thousands of followers around the world and that on yourbookmybook.com one can listen to interviews with authors from around the country and as far away as India. I began listening to the yourbookmybook author podcasts,      ...and became a Facebook follower of yourbookmybook.com, which was how I heard of the yourbookmybook author event at Dirty Frank’s restaurant.  I contacted Miguel and asked him how an author manages to land a spot at this kind of book event and he told me that though the program was filled, I was welcome to come and MC the event in exchange for which I could have a spot at the book sellers' table. And so I did,   ...with my daughter and son taking turns manning the table for me. (see post from 9/30/2017)   After the Dirty Frank's event Miguel invited me to do a live feature webcast (for the uninitiated, as I was until recently, a webcast is a podcast with video), which we did - live - last weekend in the yourbookmybook studio in Reynoldsburg, a suburb of Columbus. 
 After we finished the webcast I asked Miguel a little about himself and he shared that he was born in Honduras, came to the United States when he was twelve, served in the U.S. Army, studied audio visual technology in New York City where he worked for a number of years then, seeking life at a saner pace, moved to Columbus, Ohio, where he created yourbookmybook.com.  "You must really love books," I commented. "I do," he said, "but what I really love is the podcast production." 
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"Tropical Depression"
by Patti Liszkay Buy it on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BTPN7NYY Archives
May 2025
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