As I Suppose Ike Did

My wife suggested we all watch a film last night.  We don’t have Netflix here, so its whatever I can find online, which, if you’re industrious, is most things. I have been doing a lot of business or at least trying to secure some business with Brazil lately.  I searched for Brazilian cinema and found something called “Elite Squad” that looked unflinching, rough and gripping, as though it might suit. 

My younger one was ambivalent.  The older one said, “I’ll watch something if it’s about World War II.”  “You don’t want to try a cop movie about Brazil?”  “No.”  A search quickly reveals a list of one or another person’s idea of the best films about World War II.  I don’t want to watch “Saving Private Ryan” again.  I absolutely did not like “Inglorious Bastards.”  We probably should have opted for "Das Boot."  But, and I'm not sure why, I ended up searching for “Patton,” with George C. Scott.  I’d never seen it and though it’s supposed to be an uber-patriotic paean, that Milhous watched night after night under siege in the Whitehouse, my kids don’t know much, good or bad about their country’s history. 

The older one peeled away after forty-minutes with the younger one in-tow.  But I, who miraculously did not fall asleep, watched it through.  One suspects there was a lot more to Patton that didn’t come through in Scott’s ‘son-of-a-bitch’ portrayal of this classically trained strategist.  It’s easy enough to see Scott as a Patton when he’s chewing someone out.  But it didn’t work for me when he waxed eloquent about Roman maneuvers or fate of the Carthaginians with that gruff accent.  Later when I reviewed the man’s life on the Wiki page it seemed as though every famous quip had been squeezed into the screen play.  (or perhaps the person who wrote the Wiki entry used the film as his or her source?)  And in the end, I got tired, as I suppose Ike did as well, of Patton's unending need to fight yet another battle, to prove himself once again. 

During the vacation, the school gym is closed.  I ate one after another dumpling today, and felt like I was wearing them all, down over my belt.  Finally, when there was only an hour or so of day light left I put on my coat and went out for that bike ride I’d promised myself.  The air was cold, overcast, expectant.  Most stores were closed.  The fast food chains were open.  I saw a solitary gent eating something in McDonalds.   And though I’d intended to do a big rectangle on the main streets, I cut down a side street instead at one point and made my way through along the remains of the old village that had been leveled a few years back not far from home.

Wednesday, 02/06/19