RON HOWARD MADE ME CRY TONIGHT

Tonight I watched the film "Frost/Nixon". Up until the near end I was actively rooting against the "character" of Richard Nixon (of course, it was based on reality, but for fuck's sake, it's a Ron Howard production). Anyways, if you've seen it, you might remember a scene near the end of the film. I'll set it up to remind you and/or describe it if you have yet to see it:

Richard Nixon exits a suburban, California home, emerging from the darkness of a brutal interview in which he appears as a desperately broken man. From his point of view, the focus of the camera is blurry when pointed at various reporters shouting questions at him. His body exhibiting his age, he pauses, winces as if confused, but regains focus upon the site of a random woman holding a small dog. Nixon asks the woman: "is this what you would call a Dachshund?" She nods yes, Nixon briefly pats the small dog's head, pauses, and moves on, haltingly.

And I weeped harder than I have in fucking years.

Now, Ron Howard is a very capable director, no doubt. And Frank Langella, who played the role of Nixon, was beyond excellent. But neither of them are reasons why I'll site as reasons for making me cry. Allow me to try to explain [pours a shot a whiskey and cracks a beer]:

#1: That scene reminded me why I decided to study film, and why I regret not perusing it since. After completing my studies, many years ago, I literally hated watching films. The constant need to dissect a scene, much like a frog, grew intolerable, and if I'm being honest, made me into a snob. Worse still, it nearly disallowed me to sit back and experience a film as what it was, instead of it's technical or narrative attributes (or lack thereof). In small doses over the past 2 years or so, I've been able to shed the asshole film-student perspective, and enjoy a film or a scene on it's own merits. But I digress...

#2: My best guess as to why a seemingly innocuous scene in a film made me emotional, results from when my father, and his father were both recently in Chicago to attend a wedding. I didn't go (I wasn't invited), but the 3 generations of us were briefly in the same space, a rare occurrence indeed. And from my young-ish perspective, I saw myself in both of them. And in this particular scene I sited...it made me think, that even if you're the biggest asshole on the face of the earth (which Nixon may very well have been at one time), traces of humanity still escape.

I'm not saying that my Father or his are assholes (though they were at times capable of being so) but when the 3 of us men were in the same room recently, I watched my ageing Father attempt to tie the tie of my very aged Grandpa, and struggle, while I, sitting quietly and watching with my right arm in a sling, unable to assist...somehow I just connected that to the scene of "Nixon" petting that Dachshund. Just a quiet, seemingly fleeting moment. My God, how film can sometimes mirror life itself, and more importantly vice versa.

It's fucking remarkable.

GAY DAD APPROACHING!

Allow me to pre-face this post by saying that I love the shit out of my Dad. He's pretty fucking cool, not at all a stereotypical hard-nosed asshole father figure. Except for one thing: HE HATES THE SHIT OUT OF TATTOOS. And I just realized he still doesn't know about the Chicago flag inked into my left arm. DAMN! He'll bitch about my smoking too, but what really bothers me most is his incessant question asking. I know he's just being a good Father. But dear lord...it's like everything he encounters/observes/sees is for the first time, and he's nearly incredulous. It's actually an endearing trait (at first) but when asking a question(s) feels like an interrogation...it gets old quick. Still, I'm excited to see Jimbo (yes...I actually call my father that...as his name is Jim). Can you tell I'm a bit nervous?

PS - I won $10 in poker last night. Must suck to get beat by a one-armed 'Mo! SUCK IT BITCHES!

BEFORE & AFTER

With my father's pending arrival for Christmas, I've had to "de-gay" my place a bit. Not that it really matters...he knows I'm a 'mo, and even though he is well, there are still a few things I thought I should remove from plain sight. Such as:

BEFORE

AFTER

Much better! I also thought I should put the issue of the Advocate with the cover of Matthew Mitcham away. My secret BF shall remain just that. That being said, my copy of "City of Night" is not going anywhere. I'm classy like that.

OK, THAT WAS KINDA "GAY"

Actually, this was Really G-A-Y.

So, my Father is in town, and staying at my place. Last night, after I came home, we went to get some dinner at this TITS pizza place near me (I had the mozzarella/goat cheese/asparagus pizza - tastes better than it sounds, seriously).

After we got back to my place, we loafed about, read the Tribune and watched television.

Since I lack cable, I rarely if ever watch TV anymore, and I honestly cannot remember the last time I saw a full episode of Law & Order. It was an OK episode, I guess, but the "B" story was, um, well, gay...

There was a political character who was stuck in the closet, and was caught by the Po-Po doing the whole Larry Craig-Two Step in a bathroom.

This reminded me of my childhood when it seemed kind of weird to watch anything vaguely sexual on TV with my parents in the room. We're not really that uptight, however, we are white Midwesterner's, so perhaps certain family dynamics take on a conservative tone.

Anyways, it was just weird sitting near my Father when this fictional character was being accused, and then engaged in "gay' illicit activity.

We changed the subject...

The local news came and went, as did Nightline (really, the douche that did the Michael Jackson interview succeeded Ted Koppel?).

I thought the Old Man would retire...but then Oprah came on! And we watched most of the episode, which consisted of people doing random, and mostly stupid stunts (example A: a contortionist folded her tiny body into a suitcase, and then zipped it up).

Then the "gayness" was amped up a few fucking decibels by this guy:

Thank you Fan Yang for allowing two generations of gay men to "bond" over your random, uh, skillz.

Afterwards, I contemplated finding a tree to chop down or maybe change a tire, but since it was cold, I opted to drink a Miller Lite.

CONNECTING SOME DOTS

On Friday night I met my Bro and his GF at a Wrigleyville bar for several rousing games of Connect Four. Turns out, I fucking suck at that game! Still I had fun just talking and sipping beers with the Bro/GF Dynamic Duo.

One topic of conversation was that of my Father's relationship with his Partner In Crime (my term, not theirs). A few friends have expressed astonishment at the relative lack of knowledge I have about they met and all that.

Honestly, I tend not to pry because it really doesn't matter to me. What is of import is that he is happy. Period.

However, being a curious person I am intrigued when certain details are revealed, like what I was told on Friday night, over a game of Connect Four.

Father was in town for a day/night this past week, but unfortunately I was unable to see him (although he returns next week, so it's all good).

Over lunch, my Father related certain details about his Partner. For example, Father's Partner's former Partner died three years ago, a result of him being an alcoholic and a diabetic.

This caused Father's Partner to become severely depressed, and in a sad turn of irony, he began to exhibit signs of alcoholism.

Then, he met my Father through mutual friends (I swear to God there must be another network of older gay male bloggers that my Father is a part of, haha).

See, my Father is diabetic. Thankfully, he is not an alcoholic (he's a lightweight - my ability to consume booze comes from my Mother's side) but I think that formed the basis of a major connection.

Whatever; bottom line is that since they have been living together, Father's Partner has stopped drinking in excess, and my Father is no longer taking anxiety medication, and he sleeps well now (which was a problem for him in the past).

So whatever their true status is...doesn't matter to me because my Father is visibly happier than he has been in a LONG time. Dare I say, he seems to be experiencing some sort of belated renaissance.

He even told me so, and as you can imagine, Father's can be cagey about expressing their emotions. That alone is HUGE progress for My Old Man.

I love him.