More Than Perfect

The white-coated chef, who was about to face Bobby Flay, said he would have to bring his A game in order to win the competition.  That statement, taken literally, doesn't make sense. Why would he bring his B game? Would anyone bring their F game?

In another program, one of the competitors said she would have to give 110% to win. She means she will give everything she has plus, somehow, even more. Makes sense. After all, how many people enter a competition to give 85% of their best effort?

Of course these are just phrases that imply we will do our best to win or achieve our goal. But could they also indicate that something less than perfection is never acceptable?  Perhaps when we do our very best, we don't win. Does that mean we are lesser human beings? Does that mean our efforts are worthless?

I just watched another competition in which the loser smiled through his tears saying how much he had grown in his art as a direct result of his efforts to win. I have no doubt he tried his best and gave 110% and brought his A game. I'm sure he will go on to do very well in his chosen field - much like some other losers who gave it all they had at the time - Jennifer Hudson or One Dimension or Backstreet Boys or Miranda Lambert.

Big Moves Equal Big Headaches?

Not long ago, I moved to a new state and a new city. I’ve moved before but always within the same county so avoided many of the issues that confronted me for this relocation.

Changing from the Central to the Eastern time zone seemed like a minor thing and I was not prepared for how much this would affect me. In Illinois, the sun's first light always woke me. In the summer, that meant rising well before 6:00 AM. Now, however, it is still dark at 6:00 AM so, without the alarm, I don’t wake until 7:00 or even 7:30. I gave up trying to watch the local news. I can’t make myself stay awake until 11:00 PM to see it.

Changing one’s address may or may not result in mail being forwarded. I had a post office box for more than 25 years. When I submitted the change of address form, the post office refused to forward the mail saying I was a business and they couldn’t forward business mail.  Oh puleeze. The post office recommends individuals get a box for security reasons but refuses to accept that a person might move. Where is the logic in that?

Also regarding mail, there must be an automated change of address notification process in place because I receive lots of junk mail for companies in Illinois. Frankly, I do not intend to drive 730 miles for an oil change. Yesterday, I received an advertising flyer from my former electricity provider. Of course the company has my new address so it could send the final bill but that should have been the end of it. If it sends flyers to all former residents, imagine the expense. No wonder it needs to raise rates.

I’ve moved several times and each time, something gets left behind or gets lost. From my first apartment to my second, it was a box of books. From my townhouse to my apartment, it was my favorite soup pot. In the flurry of packing and the chaos of moving, I am resigned that something will disappear. The moving gods must be appeased.

No matter where one goes, traffic patterns are different. When and where the rush hour windows occur can be a surprise. Here, after morning rush, traffic is fairly light until about 1:00 PM. Then it doubles or triples, increasing until after evening rush.

Moving out of state adds to the adventure. In addition to finding my way around and locating new grocery stores, the library, and a Starbucks, I bumped into new rules for driving and voting. (More proof that there is nothing united about the United States.)

I’ve been in my new city for four months. I am somewhat settled and can explore for fun rather than out of necessity. There are several museums nearby and many large parks. It was a big move and included some big headaches but now I rarely reach for the ibuprofen.

The film Jackie got me in my gut.

I was too young in 1963 to fully understand or appreciate the events surrounding the Kennedy assassination. When Oswald was shot by Ruby on national television, I knew I wasn't watching a TV drama but it didn't affect me the way it did the adults in my family. When the funeral was televised, I dutifully watched every minute because my parents did and families did things together.  

These memories always come to mind every year on November 23 when we are reminded that a president was assassinated. What doesn't surface very often is the fact that this killing happened to a family; real people lost a husband, father, son, brother.

Most people assume that Jackie grieved. Of course she did. But we had no way of knowing how the shooting affected her because we only saw the public face she stoically wore. Thanks to Noah Oppenheim's script, we get a glimpse of those tortuous four days and I was forced to think about Jackie as a real person. My breath caught in my throat when I thought about how it would feel to have your husband's blood spatter your face and his mangled head lay in your lap. That stained pink suit took on new meaning. Jackie suffered from an unbelievably traumatic event long before any of us had heard of PTSD. 

The movie addresses but doesn't dwell on the politics that surrounded her. It looks at but doesn't focus on the relationship between Jack and Jackie. Instead, it follows her, an individual and separate from her husband. With her, we walk through the dark days after the shooting and begin to see a reason person who laughed, cried, and got seriously angry.  

Granted this is fiction but it is fiction based on fact. Oppenheim did extensive research and used letters Jackie wrote in the year following the assassination as a basis for the story. This is a must-see movie because it provides us with a view of history from a different angle and that is always a good thing. We must never assume we know all there is to know about any subject...as watching Jackie proved.