Weird day yesterday, on a number of levels,
which is not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully for years
to get some of my subordinate managers to show a little more initiative;
something not easily taught or acquired. One of my cardinal rules in this
effort has been, “never bring a problem to your boss unless you also bring a
suggested solution”. All too often they come running with a problem and want someone
else to solve it for them, instead of thinking it through and discovering the
solution is something well within their capability and authority.
Sometimes the solution they offer is embarrassingly
inadequate but I want them to at least attempt to operate intellectually on the
next level of supervision. What made yesterday a little special was that on
three different occasions three different subordinate managers came to me with
problems and the correct solution. Sometimes, it’s all about making progress.
Since my wife was traipsing around New
York City yesterday I was alone for date night but it also permitted the
viewing of a horror movie which would be verboten otherwise. I don’t think
there’s another director who showed more promise with a first film than M.
Night Shyamalan with The Sixth Sense, nearly a perfect movie. His efforts since
then have been a descent into mediocrity that is almost as cringe worthy as
some of those most recent movies. The Visit isn’t a complete return to form but
it is definitely a step in the right direction.
He takes all of the traditional issues
the very young have with the very old and adds some barbs to the hook. A daughter
estranged from her parents sends her two children to spend a week with their grandparents
which leads to the gradually unveiled horror. He missteps using the “found
footage” technique but I’ll admit to some real seat squirming, especially in the
second half, and that’s why I love horror movies. I was reminded of terror I
felt for each of Ellen Burstyn’s walks down the hall to Regan’s room in the Exorcist
every time the young kids approached their bedroom door after 9:30PM. There was
even a mild twist near the end. A solid, scary movie which for M. Night
constitutes a serious win.
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| My Wife and the Virginia Musquetera with the Sister in the Middle Yesterday in NYC |
Back to my favorite Panamanian, she successfully
linked up with the Virginia Musquetera and her sister once they figured out
that Penn Station was an entirely different place than Grand Central Station.
It’s testimony to their friendship that they traveled up from Virginia and Massachusetts
for the sole purpose of my wife meeting the sister. She kind of does that to
people, she’s fun to hang out with. The next door Mafioso even volunteered to
accompany my wife for the trip down. By all reports, sketchily relayed this
morning, they had a very good time. They even provided directions to a lost
Guatemalan lady they found wandering near the train station. “Madrugada” is one
of my favorite words in Spanish. I like the way it rolls off the tongue. Its
meaning, “very early morning” is decidedly more dastardly. It does however describe
the time my wife rolled in from her Big Apple adventures last night.
I was thinking alot about New York
City yesterday because I was finishing up my latest book in the excellent Matthew
Scudder novels by Lawrence block, When the Sacred Ginmill Closes.
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| The Two Sisters in Times Square |
My determined march through this
series was interrupted by a couple other books. It was great getting back to
Scudder whom I left finally admitting to himself that he was an alcoholic. It
felt like getting back together with an old friend. I expected this next book
to explore that transition in his life. Instead Block has Scudder flashing back
ten years in his life to the height of his drinking days and several separate
cases that fell into his lap.
Scudder has to solve a perplexing
robbery, a blackmailing, and a seemingly solved murder case. The flashback also
allows Block to have Scudder interacting with a close knit group of friends (predictably
most of them bartenders) instead of his usual loner personae. As with all the
Scudder novels New York City is a central character as he moves around the city
doggedly pursuing truth and exacting Scudderian justice. New York comes alive
in Block’s work, a living, breathing entity. I think, when I finish that trek
through this series, I owe myself an unaccompanied trip to New York City to
immerse myself in Scudder’s environment. I loved the book and the opportunity it
takes for Scudder to reflect on where his life has taken him, something we
should all do occasionally.
I’ve gotten away from including passages
from the books I’ve been reading. That was a mistake since they all do a much
better job at wordsmithing than I could ever hope to. You can certainly see
that here as Scudder considers the ten years that had passed since the cases
related in the book passed:
“So
many changes, eating away at the world like water dripping on a rock. For God’s
sake, last summer the sacred ginmill closed, if you want to call it that. The
lease on Armstrong’s came up for renewal and Jimmy walked away from it, and now
there’s another goddamned Chinese restaurant where the old joint used to be. He
re-opened a block further west, at the corner of Fifty-seventh and Tenth, but
that’s a little out of my way these days.
In more ways than one. Because I don’t drink any more, one day at a
time, and thus have no business in ginmills, be they sacred or profane. I spend
less of my time lighting candles and more in church basements, drinking my
coffee without bourbon, and out of Styrofoam cups. So when I look ten years into
the past I can say that I would very likely have handled things differently
now, but everything is different now. Everything. All changed, changed utterly.
I live in the same hotel, I walk the same streets, I go to a fight or a ball
game the same as ever, but ten years ago I was always drinking and now I don’t
drink at all. I don’t regret a single one of the drinks I took, and I hope to
God I never take another. Because that, you see, is the less traveled road on
which I find myself these days, and it has made all the difference. Oh, yes.
All the difference.”
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