Three Movie Recommendations for 2011

Let's make this perfectly clear from the beginning, this is not an article about movie recommendations; this is more of a commentary on my current emotional state. For better or worse, movies effect the way we feel. They can help us gain greater insight into life, and they can serve as a momentary diversion from life's many trials. All the movies I discuss in this treatise are based on true life events. I woke-up my wife at 4 a.m. today because of my emotional sobbing. How does one explain they are crying because they are happy? I was sleeping in a special chair bought last week because I am unable to sleep in a bed secondary to my multiple fractured ribs sustained in an accident a week ago Saturday. I was coming home from work on my bicycle when I was hit by a car. Last night my two youngest sons took my wife and I to see "Moneyball" at the local theatre for family home evening (FHE) activity. The movie centered on the 2002 Oakland Athletics and their general manager (GM) Billy Beane's use of sabermetrics. It is an exceptional movie that deals with the courage to embrace change. It is also a good baseball movie :-) There is a scene in the movie "The Great Santini" where the character played by Robert Duval turns to his son and tells him about the White Sox game from the previous night. This was my mother's way of always breaking the ice with me. We may not have communicated ideally, but she had faith that she could always initiate a conversation with a comment about the Boston Red Sox. She lived, breathed, and died Red Sox. She herself was an athlete growing-up; the mantle over the fireplace displayed many of her trophies including softball. She raised her children and grandchildren as Red Sox fans. In fact, my older children tell the story that prior to the Red Sox winning the 2004 World Series, whenever they saw an individual wearing Red Sox clothing at the local mall in Provo, Utah, near where they were attending school, it always turned out to be one of their siblings. All that has since changed with two world championships. Dad, on the other hand, didn't speak baseball. Dad, as a teenager, was raised by his divorced mother; he wasn't allowed to play sports. He didn't even know who Babe Ruth was. After a terrifying World War II (WWII) experience as an infantryman that left everyone in his unit, except him, dead, he crawled back to American lines where he was challenged with the names of baseball players that he was unable to respond to. It was providential that a Navajo Indian, who he had befriended in England, was able to vouch for him. As for me, I spent my time growing-up on the baseball fields of East Taft Rd in North Syracuse, New York, near the airport runway next to Hancock Air Field. I played on a team sponsored by the Syracuse Savings Bank and would keep score for many other games. My father's Dad, a WWI veteran, would take us on a pilgrimage to Fenway every summer. Near the end of his life, I remember one particular game when the Red Sox were trailing the Orioles by four runs after eight innings and he wanted to leave early (we had a considerable way to travel as he lived on the north side of Concord, New Hampshire.) The bottom of the order was due up in the ninth and I protested that if we could hold them scoreless in the top of the ninth, and at least one batter in the bottom of the order would get on base, that the top of the order would come through and Carl Yaztremski would hit a home run to win it. We stayed until the end of the game. As fate would have it, Carl Yaztremski hit a home run to win the game! I now understand the sacrifice it took for him to travel so far and to sit through such a long ball game. "Soul Surfer" came out earlier this year. This movie documents surfer Bethany Hamilton's courage and determination after losing an arm. It is an extraordinary movie. My father lost his left leg and part of his right foot as a result of wounds received in WWII. While growing-up, most of my friends didn't even realize he wore a prosthetic limb on the left leg and a special shoe on the right foot. He would often have to take-off his unique appliances after a long day at work and give attentive care to skin breakdown problems. As my father and my grandfather before me, I too served in the Army. From 1976 through 1996, my family lived in 18 different places. They were fortunate to be near family in Upstate New York many times, either when I was stationed in New York or during a deployment. My mother always sacrificed much to assist both immediate and extended family members. My mother was often left with the tasks of social secretary, taxi driver, and cheering fan club of myself, my brother, and her grandchildren. She spent the later years of her life sleeping in a chair because of her severe back pain. I now have some understanding of the courage and determination it took for both Mom and Dad to face life challenges one day at a time. Mom was released from life never having seen the Red Sox win a world championship, and Dad continues his challenges currently confined to a wheelchair in a skilled nursing facility. They have both been tremendous examples of charity and sacrifice. The movie "17 Miracles" starts out with the June 1847 burning of one of the cabins used by the ill-fated Donner Party when General Stephen Kearny and his detachment of 15 Mormon Battalion members come across the site while escorting John Charles Frémont back to the U.S. for a court martial hearing. The movie follows Levi Savage, one of the members of that detachment, as he assists Mormon pioneers to the Salt Lake Valley. Seventeen miraculous accounts from personal journals are weaved into the story. This is a wonderful movie. A miracle is often defined as an extraordinary event that surpasses human knowledge. Much of life itself is a miracle. I am very grateful for the many miracles in my life, especially my family. While stationed at the Military Academy in West Point, New York, I was the Scoutmaster for Boy Scout Troop 123. On Friday morning of January 23rd, 1981 I was informed of a quickly-called mandatory meeting with the hospital commander. (The American hostages held in Iran were returning to our location after 444 days of captivity. I was part of the medical team that would greet them at the airport on Sunday.) Prior to the meeting with the Commander, I was frantically preparing for the Boy Scout campout that would begin that evening. West Point was hosting the Klondike Derby that weekend. I was on route 293 heading back to West Point as I crested just before the side-road to Round Pond. The sun was to my back while in front a military bus was coming down the hill from Round Pond; I took my foot off the accelerator. The bus stopped at the stop sign, so I moved my foot back toward the accelerator. Then the bus came onto the highway, and I slammed on my brakes. I was not going to be able to stop prior to the bus which was proceeding to block the highway as it was making a left hand turn. I could either hit the bus or go off the road into a ditch on the right that ran along a solid rock cliff wall. It seemed to me that time slowed down so as to give me time to think. The sun was shining through all the windows of the bus, and all I could see was the bus driver. My first thought, which was very selfish, was to go ahead and hit the bus; after all, the driver was at fault and I probably had an increased chance of surviving the impact of hitting a bus than I did of surviving the impact of hitting a rock wall. Then a thought came into my mind – West Point uses military buses as school buses. What if the bus was transporting little kids too small for their heads to appear in the windows? I took my foot off the brake and yanked the steering wheel to the right toward the rock wall. The next thing I know is my car is on the road on the other side of the bus skidding into a 180 degree semi-circle ending-up facing the bus that is blocking the road. The bus driver and a Military Policeman, who was sitting in his car on the road coming from Round Pond, witnessed the entire event. It seems there was just enough room for the car to squeeze in between the bus and the wall; I bounced into the ditch and back up onto the road! The bus driver, a very young woman, exited the bus in hysterics from my near fatal accident. She said she never saw me. I thanked God that all was well and was very grateful for the miracle. Now fast-forward to a week ago Saturday. I was at work finishing-up my charts for the week; I decided to leave work between 5:00 and 5:30 so as to be travelling on my bicycle while the sun was still shining. I was in the bicycle lane going east on 700 North. While I was passing through the intersection at 200 East, a car heading west turned south into me at full speed. Time seemed to again slow down while I was up in the air. I positioned my right forearm over the right side of my head prior to landing on the pavement on my right side. Again there was a very young woman driving who states she never saw me. And again, the sun was also behind me from her perspective, and she was in hysterics from my near fatal accident. I again thanked God that all was well and was very grateful for the miracle. Since this most recent miracle of still being alive, I realize that while in this fishbowl we call life, we have much to accomplish. We learn about ourselves, build and develop relationships, and increase in varied capabilities. Thank you to all who have expressed their concern and have assisted me. I appreciate each and every one of you! I am on the road to recovery and hope to be back to work as soon as possible. I’ll try not to watch too many movies or television:-) --john

Photo Book for Bob Walker

Click here to view this photo book larger