Monday, November 29, 2021

My 2 Cents: Community



Somewhere in the blur of the four-plus years of my tenure as sports editor at SVM, I stumbled upon the sitcom “Community” in syndication in late night (probably more like early morning) programming. The time slot, which didn’t seem fixed in a spot for very long, was the same sort of treatment the show received during its original run on NBC. I am pretty sure the syndication time for at least a little while was like 1 AM on Monday morning. I worked every Sunday night, so I have clear memories of getting home after deadline and this show being on.

The issue I initially found with Community, as I always seemed to catch the same handful of episodes and, at the time, I had little knowledge of the show or how many seasons it was on, was that it was a “hit-or-miss” kind of show. The season three episode entitled “Chaos Theory,” where various scenarios play out depending on the roll of a dice, was a gem while the Claymation Christmas episode where Abed (Dani Pudi) sinks into a delusion due to the dissolution of he and his mother’s seasonal traditions seemed to lack the humor and punch of other episodes.

Even in the misses, I could tell there was more going on with this show than the average sitcom. While it often presented the familiar tropes found in other shows, the characters – usually Abed – identified the scenarios as the tropes they were and thus bent them away from the expected outcomes – or in other instances played right into the tropes and thus concluded that sometimes tropes are manifestations of reality.

The show required a more thorough and linear exploration.

The setup is of students of various backgrounds and ages forming a study group for a Spanish class at Greendale Community College. The shows initial hook was of Jeff Winger (Joel McHale), who has been disbarred after it was discovered he was practicing law without a legitimate bachelor’s degree, enrolling at Greendale to quickly earn said degree and return to his swarmy and shallow existence. In an attempt to woo an attractive, but also world-savvy (she had once lived in New York, after all) classmate, Britta Perry, he sets up a study date with her. When he arrives that evening, he finds she’s invited a bevy of classmates to make it a study group.

The first season revolves around Jeff’s pursuit of Britta, his flirtation with younger group member, Annie (Alison Brie), along with Annie’s infatuation with Troy (Donald Glover), Abed’s reliance on television and movies to relate to the real world, Shirley’s (Yvette Nicole Brown) pushing of Christian beliefs on the group while also dealing with her divorce, and Pierce Hawthorne’s (Chevy Chase) relentless desire to prove that he’s still relevant and hip enough to hang with his younger peers.

The backbone of the series comes from a classic Winger pep talk where he says “we are no longer a study group, but a community.” The lesson for Winger, a perpetual loner, being that the individual thrives in a community.

For the last five or six years, Jodi and I have been watching the series from beginning to end, and on Sunday night, we watched the finale of season six bringing this chapter to a close for me (us). While we have several shows we are watching like this, this is probably the first one that I’ve ever watched from beginning to end, so it was a little bit of a lesson on storytelling, but more a trip for me where I’ve grown along with the characters. It started when I was at a very different place in my life, coming home late at night, often overwhelmed and exhausted and sometimes feeling lost to the place I am now, more stable, more attentive to the important things in life (family, etc.), and focused on new goals and hobbies. While I am not going to say the finale was anything earth shattering, watching it was a little hard, because it did feel like a door closing for me.

By the sixth season, half of the original cast had moved on. Chevy Chase left after three seasons and much feuding with show creator Dan Harmon and other castmates, Donald Glover left to become a bigger star in music and television, and Yvette Nicole Brown left for various reasons including getting a spot on another short-lived show. The dynamic of the show never truly recovered to the magic of the first three seasons and original cast, but it also was a better reflection of the real world – particularly one at a community college where students usually change every two years or so. The show’s final season aired on the short-lived Yahoo TV (the show is blamed for the internet station’s demise), and while there’s occasionally talk of a movie (a running callback within the show was six seasons and a movie), it seems likely the show is destined to slip further into obscurity.

I can’t recommend checking this one out enough if you like shows that break the mold a bit. If meta isn’t your thing, then you might want to pass. As someone into writing, it’s also worth a study on how to juggle an ensemble cast along with complex themes and breakneck-paced wit. Most of all it is fun, often individual episodes feel like mini-movies and the paintball episodes in seasons one and two are epic.

Cool, cool, cool.


Monday, November 15, 2021

Write On: Festival of Trees Table & Tree















When I am not working or writing, I sometimes like to tinker with making things and I wanted to combine those two interests. As it happens, my wife, Jodi, is involved with the Festival of Trees, as she and her mother manage the table setting section. The Festival of Trees is a fundraiser for the Hospice of the Rock River Valley in Sterling, and it is taking place this week (Nov. 15-21) at Northland Mall in Sterling. It involves a silent auction for decorated trees, tables and other items.

A couple of months ago, I made a table that our writing group Write On could put in the auction. I refinished the table and then designed the top using photos of book covers. Over the covers, I poured epoxy-resin creating a clear finish. Our hope is that the table provides inspiration to whomever wins the bid to either read or write. Included with the table are books written by our members, and a collection of stories written by our members, a leather-bound notebook, leather bookmarks, pens, and sticky notes.

Our writing group also decorated a tree that is up for bid. The theme for our tree is “What are your Gifts?”


Both projects are excellent ways for our little group to both help others in our community and to advertise our existence in hopes of gaining members.

I have a second table in the auction. Jodi found the metal frame, and I refinished some old tongue-and-groove barn boards to make the top. Jodi handled the decorating side.

These items will be up for bid the rest of this week, so be sure to get out to Northland Mall and support a great cause!


Game Story: Amboy vs. Orangeville


 

Photo credit to Sauk Valley Media


I covered the Illinois 8-man semifinal football game on a blustery Saturday afternoon in Amboy. The Clippers fell to the Orangeville Broncos. Check out my take at the link below. 

Orangeville ends Amboy-LaMoille’s magical run in 8-man semifinal – Shaw Local

Thursday, November 11, 2021

Pandemonium Season 1, Episode 3: Last Night When We Were Young (1994)

 



Sarah Arndt’s sleeveless blue denim dress billowed out in waves at about mid-thigh, and she covered her shoulders with a brown denim jacket. A pair of orange Chuck Taylors completed her funeral outfit. Her short hair was styled so that her long bangs rolled like the surf on the top of head while the sides were cut down to the stubble. The bangs were dyed sliver with the rest toned a dark gray. She stood out, to say the least, among the collared shirts and modest midwestern dresses. Richie noticed her, that’s for sure, as she approached in the receiving line of the visitation before the service. First question: What the hell was she was doing there? She was known as the Queen of Shadows. She smoked, she cursed, she ruled the seedy underbelly of Jordan High School. He was a mere mental case a year behind her. The second question, when would he see her again? She murmured condolences to his father before greeting Richie with an awkward embrace and placing her lips to his left ear.

“Today the world is old. You flew away and time grew cold. Where is that star that shone so bright ages ago last night?” She whispered and before walking away added, “I got my eyes on you, Little Richie.”  

She retreated to the back row of folding chairs where she sat two spaces away from the next person. His eyes kept drifting toward her, and he felt guilty for being distracted by a girl during the mother’s visitation, but he barely knew most of the people passing through the line and they all had the same empty condolences: “She’s in a better place,” “the Lord called her home,” and “At least she’s not hurting anymore.” Plus, they all wanted to touch him. Hug him. Kiss him. Shake his hand. His father refused to let him wear gloves, and his skin was crawling with prickles from the germs. The germs that were burrowing deeper and deeper into his follicles, invading his blood stream, one domino after biological domino falling until he was in an urn alongside his mother.

As far as mourning, he couldn’t cry anymore. There was simply a gap in his heart where she once was, and the events of funeral didn’t feel like they were going to change anything. It just let everyone else wash their hands of the whole sad affair while he and his dad were left without the sun that kept their orbits on comfortable paths.

The last person passed by, and Richie and his father were ushered to a pair of chairs in front. While the pastor, who had never met his mother, regurgitated their memories, and in turn, co-opted them as his own, he could feel Sarah Arndt’s eyes on the back of his head. It made no sense that she was here among the grieving, and it made even less sense that she’d have her eyes on Richie Dean Glenn. What did she want? He was nothing to her. She was a legend of Jordan High, known for her far-out fashion and smoking marijuana in the girl’s room. Did Richie attract outlaws, or something? His mother’s urn rested on a pedestal surrounded by an embarrassment of flowers. Richie wished that the stupid holy man would shut up and lead everyone else out of the room so that Richie could ask his mother’s ashes what to do about Sarah Arndt. She would have answered with something clever.

“Give the girl a chance,” He could hear his mom saying. “The unique ones are always the best ones.”

Or maybe she’d be off put by Sarah’s assumption of belonging at the service. His mom could be a stickler for social etiquette.

“Send her packing, Richie. Trouble is as trouble does, and that girls does trouble.”

His father didn’t flinch the entire service, his wide features reddening in the heat of wearing the three-piece suit. His tie was loosened to accommodate his massive neck and his beard was tangled and uneven. Shaving had become optional in the last couple weeks. R.J. Dean hadn’t registered any of the attendees at the funeral, simply providing quiet acknowledgements of their condolences. He had forewarned Richie that he intended to drink that night, and that he was welcome to stay at any friend’s house that Richie wished. So much for grieving together. Richie’s grandmother sat beside him, and he intended to stay on the sofa at her assisted living home. He’d checked out a Dean Koontz book from the school library the day before, and he planned on reading it to her. They both liked a good scare, and it’d be nice to disappear into the pages of fiction for a few hours. He’d have to do all the reading now, as her eyesight had diminished to near nothing in the last two years.

The service ended and they drove to the cemetery where thankfully the pastor stuck to the basic lines of scripture. The ground was soft from rain the day before, and ducks quacked in a man-made pond centered in the cemetery. Sarah Arndt smoked a cigarette next to a tree about a football field away from the plot, her arms folded over her chest. If it were a movie, Richie would have assumed she were some sort of assassin, just waiting to get a clean shot of him before moving on to her next assignment. Was that what he was to her? Some sort of challenge? Or was she elaborately messing with the most tormented kid at Jordan High? Richie’s usual suspicions about people’s motives were buzzing in his head, but for the first time, they were losing out by a tug at his groin. Jesus, how messed up was he? The pastor finished, Richie looked down at the hole where the urn would be placed, and when his eyes rose, Sarah Arndt was gone. Maybe he’d imagined her the entire time.

Richie rode back in a limousine with his dad and grandma, she commented on how the grass was beginning to green finally after a long cold winter. She could probably barely tell. His dad mumbled a few things on the ride, but none of it was important or even all that intelligible. They weren’t in their house more than ten minutes before he cracked open his first can of beer, not bother to shed his suit.

Richie packed the book, a change of clothes, a few CDS and his portable disc player after slipping into some jeans and a sweatshirt. His dad was slumped in his recliner in the living room as Richie made to leave.

“I’m heading over to Grandmas.”

“All right,” he said, not looking up.

“Don’t drink too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, now you sound like…” He didn’t finish the line, just sort of snorted. He was going to say, “my mother,” before catching himself.

“It’s okay, Dad.”

“Is it?”

Thursday, November 4, 2021

Contest Entry: NYC Midnight – Flash Fiction Challenge 3

 


So, along with covering a game for SVM last weekend, I had the third round of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge, a 48-hour competition to come up with a thousand-word story based off a prompt. Six hundred writers remain, and they were split into to 25 groups. The top three in each group will move on to the fourth and final round in December.

I won’t lie, I struggled mightily with this one. My prompts were:

Genre: Comedy

Setting: An Interview

Object: An Easel

The genre messed with me as the concern of being funny was paramount in my head, making focusing on story difficult. The story I ended up filing was the third one I came up with, the first two falling short for different reason. The first one seemed to mean spirited and more of a political satire. The second I wrote myself into a corner and figure a way out of it.

So, this was the Hail Mary that I threw together on Sunday afternoon. It turned out OK, but I hold no illusions that I’ll be moving on. The competition gets stiff at this point, and this is far from my best work.

If you would like to read it, follow the link below. Thanks.

https://bit.ly/3wf8aJw

My Music Journal 2025: April 11, 2025

  Friday, April 11, 2025 Time: 3:08 PM Song: I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous Artist: Frank Turner Mode of Consumption: Listening t...