Tag Archives: costumes

making a movie…

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“Oh! Are you picking him up right away?”

“Not if I’m early.”

“If we could have till five o’clock, it would be great.”

“Sure, I’ll do some grocery shopping.”

“Great! Thanks.”

I turn to leave. He holds me back.

“You know, Noah is really creative. I’ll let him tell you, but he’s got amazing ideas.”

“Cool.”

As I walk to the staircase, a black ninja goes running by. The animator wheels around and takes off in chase.

“Hey, Ray! Where are you going? We have a scene to film.”

4:30…half hour to kill so that “the star” can continue filming. Every Monday, Noah and a group of kids at his school work to create a short film, under the supervision of a student teacher who is both animator and technician.

Juice boxes, fresh strawberries, massive Danish, lettuce, small steaks, applesauce…all on sale. Supper, breakfast and box lunch all ready.

When I get back to school it’s five past five.

“Hey dad.” The White Ninja slashes the air with his double katanas.

“I look cool, huhn?”

“Yup.”

Sunday we shopped for white leotards and dollar store light sticks.

Noah was fully operational.

“I have an idea for the mask, dad. You know my old white shirts, yeah the ones that are too old, well I could use the hole you know for the head? Yeah well I could just use that to look through, you know? Not pulled down but just, just, just…wait.”

He ran off and came back with the t-shirt wrapped around his head, peering through the hole.

“I just don’t know how to make it hold you know.” He’s keeping it together in a bunch at the back of his head. I find an elastic and tie the loose ends. Two belts strapped in a criss cross on his chest to hold the sticks on his back and …. the White Ninja arises.

So today, he was fully prepared to film.

“You know what sucked dad?” He says this loudly in the school hallway.

“Noah, wait, do you walk back home in ninja costume?”

“No dad! I have to like preserve it, you know or else if something happens to it, like you know it won’t match when we do the next filming, it won’t be in ummm….”

“Continuity.”

“Yeah, that’s it, continuity.”

“So run and change and you’ll tell me all about it on the way home.”

“Ok dad.”

He skips away to the bathroom. The day can’t have “sucked” that badly.

After another mind melting wait outside the bathroom, he is finally ready to head out.

“Yeah so what sucked is that you know we were supposed to have a black ninja and a green ninja and a red ninja and me, the white ninja. Yeah, so my costume is real good. Oh, I wanted to tell you dad. Thank you so much! Yeah, the animator said I looked great. You worked hard with me, yeah, you’re the best dad ever that I had.”

Love the recognition but I’m always a little embarrassed as if I feel he feels he has to tell me to appease the monster his dad is…. Ouufff!!

“Thanks again dad.”

“No problem.”

“Yeah so, all the other costumes sucked. So you know what I told the teacher? Yeah, I had a great idea and he loved it. It was like this: I said since the costumes suck and the script like sorta sucks too, we should make a movie called, ready dad? called “The Movie about how we Failed to make a Movie.”

A script I could have written.

“Yeah, so I’m like….”

He stops walking suddenly. Needs to gesticulate. The great mass of humanity on the sidewalk practically falls over him.

“…I’m like you know saying my lines and then I turn to the camera and go like this: ‘who wrote this line it’s really bad’. You see, dad? Funny hunh?”

“A parody, a film about making a film.”

“Yeah, exactly…because it really is bad so this way bad becomes funny for like everybody. But on purpose. You see? And the title is “The Movie about how We Failed to make a Movie”. Smart huhn?”

“Yes it is.”

“Dad, when you like make your movie this summer can I like work on it?”

“I don’t know… you might find that the script sucks too much.”

“It’s okay, dad, I’m sure I’ll find it pretty good.”

Pretty good !?!

“Dad, can we have sushi tonight?”

He’s primed for the cocktail circuit. Essential talents…confidence, irony, and sushi.

The kid’s ready for a film career.

 

 

 

 

A haunting…

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…number

“So, how’s life, on a scale from one to ten?”

Halloween evening and we’ve gathered at a friend’s house for a pre-Trick or Treat spaghetti dinner.

It has been our tradition since Noah was 5. A daycare buddy, Lucas, who’s still a friend even though they see each other only twice a year…at Halloween and at an annual summer picnic.

So Lucas’ Mother, a sweet very together audiologist,  genuinely cares to know.

So I genuinely try to answer for real rather than the usual reflexive, “I’m OK” or some easy joke.

“Dad, dad !” My very own Soul Reaper comes charging up the stairs. “Can we go yet, for trick or treat?”

“Mom, mom!” Lucas, as a construction worker, comes charging up the stairs. “Everybody is already trick or treating.”

“First, spaghetti…” , in unison, me and the Mom.

Kids are streaming in, families are gathering for the great assault on the neighborhood’s haunted houses, witches’ covens and other comically ghoulish candy givers.

The Moms gather in the kitchen, slinging spaghetti in bowls and holding their kids in place just long enough to suck down a few noodles.

The Dad’s gather in the kitchen and get involved in discussions about design, renovation, politics, while sucking down noodles.

I gravitate to the Mothers. Because I have to feed my kid and because I like women. I get involved in a conversation about language education and acid reflux in children.

I may not be changing the world. Then again, maybe I am.

My little Soul Reaper is just bursting out of his costume with excitement.

“Daaaaaaadddddd, can we go NOW, pleeaassee.”

“Mooooommm…..”. Lucas is hopping vertically as if he’s swallowed a pogo stick.

We gather the kids and parents, dictate a few rules than no one is listening to and the expedition sets off.

Instantly, the kids run off, screaming in pure adrenaline joy. The walk in the streets is a delight. The scene is pure fantasy with a host of characters,  funny and gross or weird and beautiful. The Dad’s do the walking while the Mom’s stay at home for the candy distribution.

This time I’m with the Dads.

As I follow the six kids we’re watching, the Dads hang back and chat or check their smart phones. I have a dumb-phone, so I watch my Soul Reaper and his Construction friend, followed by a geisha, an astronaut, a super hero and a princess.

I went from being a Mom to being a Dad, and finally, full circle, to being a kid.

I howl spontaneously to the moon. The kids join in without a neuron’s hesitation.

I suddenly realize I never answered Lucas’ Mother’s question.

“How’s my life on a scale of one to ten?”

Must remember to tell her that right now, this very instant, definitely…

… a fat, giggling 10 .

 

 

bury…

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…the dead

“Check this out, dad. It’s like the most fun I’ll ever have, ever, of my whole life like.”

This was last Friday morning on the way to the school bus. It has been the theme of his week. The upcoming unimaginably wonderful weekend.

“First, Alissa comes tonight and I can go on the computer…”

“Only if you…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know dad, only if I behave right at school. But listen, after I go on the computer, tomorrow … ”

Now that had an impact.

“…tomorrow it’s Edgar’s birthday and we go go go go…hah, did you hear me dad?…yeah we go go go go-karting. Aaaawwwwessssome.”

I must admit go karting is pretty awesome. Small, powerful, smelly vehicles careening around an indoor track in barely controlled mayhem.

Too bad it’s with a bunch of kids who have only recently learned to control their bowel movements, let alone hurtling vehicles.

“Yeah and then, Sunday, it’s the Pokemon Pre-Release Tournament where we get like, eh, you know, sixty, yeah, sixty, imagine sixty new cards that are not even released yet, That’s why it’s called Pre-Release. You understand?”

He’s told me everyday, several times a day for the last few days, so, yeah….

“I understand, Noah.”

“Yeah and then Monday its Halloween and we go to school in costume. Dad we gotta get gray and red and black make-up.”

“On the way home, tonight.”

“We need lots.”

“Of course.”

I’ve learned that you don’t argue about taste or quantities. My feast is another man’s poverty.

“And then, it’s Trrrrrricccckkkk ‘RRRRR  Treeeaaaatttt, oh yeah, oh yeah, aaaawwwweessssooommmeeee.”

He’s still dancing and singing as he disappears into the school bus.

That’s his weekend, so, by definition, it’s my weekend.

The hell with the things undone that rot my life. The unpaid bills, the unwashed dishes, the unswept floors, the unfilmed screenplays, the  women unloved, the depths unplumbed, the heights unconquered.

Saturday, I strap on a helmet and whoop in the noxious fumes of Kartomania.

Sunday, I rah rah and fist pump my future Pokemon Master on his quest through the Univa region.

Monday, I’m the bag man as he roams the streets as the Soul Reaper, harvesting candies in such abundance that I carry two spare bags for the overflow.

Halloween weekend… celebrating the departed through derision, fun and noise.

My illusions are lying in a shallow grave, in between the tombstones of Past and Future.

I have finished mourning them all.

BOOOOO…..you don’t scare me anymore. PPPPFFFFFFFTTTT…. you don’t seduce me anymore.

Focus, dad. Relax, dad. Enjoy, dad.

Just before he disappears in the school bus, this  Halloween Monday morning, my little Soul Reaper flashes me a smile and mouths a silent ‘Aweeeeeessssommmmeee’ complete with fist pump.

I may be slow, but I’m getting the message.

 

 

 

 

soul…

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…Reaper

“I’m so excited about Monday.”

Monday is Halloween.

“Today’s Thursday, right dad?”

“Wednesday.”

For some odd reason, Noah has not memorized the sequence of days of the week, in either of his two languages. Nor the months for that matter. Yet he knows dozens of Pokemon by name as well as their evolutions, strengths, Hp Powers and other arcane battle data.

Mythological battles are more interesting than stringing days of the week.

“So how many days, dad?”

“Count.”

“Grrrr”.

He’s almost nine so its cute for now when he growls. I wonder what it’ll feel like when he’s 18.

“5 days, that’s right, huh, dad? I wish I could close my eyes and, pop, when I open them its already Monday. I wanna so show off my costume at school. Do you think I made a good choice, dad?”

“Absolutely.”

He went from having no ideas for Halloween to being supercharged all in the space of a few minutes.

Once he found the right costume.

“Dad, can I try it on again?”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh yeah, oh yeah.”

He runs off to his room.

“Don’t look.”

He doesn’t close his door. That freaks him out even in full daylight. But I don’t look.

I promised. And I keep my promises. At least those I make to others. Noah knows how seriously he can take my word. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.

Except for those I make to myself. Indulgence, self-contempt?

“Turn around, dad, don’t look.” I sit still on the futon…pretending terrified petrification.

He sneaks up noisily behind me. He’s in full costume, with gruesome mask, black robe and hood.

The Soul Reaper sidles up to my ear. A deep cavernous whisper.

“I’ve come to get yooooouuuu.”

Would be scary, if his hot breath wasn’t tickling me. I try not to giggle, to look horrified instead.

The Soul Reaper jumps in front of me.

I’m startled. Recoil.

He pumps a heart in his hand and slime-green souls, reduced to howling proto-humans, move ominously out of his chest.

Cool costume.

“I’m reaping you.” His ominous hiss is accentuated by a zombie walk.

Too bad for the effect that he’s only three feet tall.

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhh.” I shake in fear.

“Hah…so cool! I gotta find a stick for like a staff, you know.”

He runs off. Hollers from his room.

“How many days again to Monday?”

“Count.”

“Grrrrr.”

Maybe this Halloween I’ll go disguised as a writer.

Soul Reapers, father ands son.

 

Space and…

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…Time

Halloween 2009

“Daddy, it’s going to be weird like at Christmas and my birthday and all that, now that Nonna is gone.”

“It sure will, Noah.”

No sense denying the obvious.

My Mother would sit in her living room in her Power Lift Chair, surrounded by crazy noise, wild song and fevered unwrapping of gifts. She was only semi-involved, one foot already in the new world that was calling her…echoes of my father, her sisters, her mother and all her world that had already gone.

But she was still there…a small soft ball of life and history.

“Dad, its weird, this year I have no ideas about Halloween and what costume I could wear. Last year, I was like ‘I could be this,’ and then I would change my mind, ‘Oh, dad, I want to be this other one instead’. Remember Dad?  I was so full of ideas that this year are just gone. I don’t know why I lost all my ideas.”

Mourning the gone.

“Cool, Noah.”

Gone is not lost. Nothing is ever lost. It only ends, transforms.

“Eh?” His eyebrow lifts, classic Noah.

“Yeah, this way your mind is all free and a new idea will pop in.”

“Really? But I liked the old ones.”

Enough people have left my life, after variable stays, for me to know that the old ones and the new ones always coexist.

Some people I can’t recall beyond their eyes or their body or their smell or a smile, a word, a touch or a thought. Others, I relive daily, as if the moments of our time together were a continuing reality.

Still others have only gone further in space, measured in mere miles and time zones.

“Well then, if you liked the old ones, you could wear last year’s costume.”

“Oh, no, it won’t fit.”

I know it will fit, but its last year’s … like trying to renew last year’s affections. Their beauty was their temporary nature.

Everything is by necessity, impermanent.

A lover who crosses for a moment is never gone. As is the parent who is there your whole life.

“Dad, I’m going to be like really too young when you die.”

“How’s that?”

“Yeah, I’ll be like only 55 when you’re going to die at a hundred.”

He’s good at math. And generous with my life span.

“You’ll be older than I am now.”

“That’s young, dad.”

Nice kid. Can’t help but agree.

“Is Halloween about the dead people, dad?”

“Well, traditionally, its a night when spirits and the living can mingle for a while. But that’s a story, true or not who knows.”

Short and probably inaccurate definition.

“Freaky.”

“And fun…remember Noah, all the kids running around, the haunted houses, the bags of candies…”.

“Yeah, and there’s always a poor kid whose bag breaks and who cries with all his candy around him. Every year. Not you and me, we’re a team and like you always have an extra bag where I empty the stuff when it gets too heavy. We’re champs. Why don’t the other kids remember the year before, dad?”

“We’re just particularly good at remembering.”

“Yeah.”

“After school, Noah, we’ll go to the costume store…find you a disguise for Halloween.”

“Oh, yeah, this way I’ll get new ideas. Thanks dad.”

Thank you, Noah.

Thank you, time, for the gift of impermanence.