A Film



Diane, Paul, Luke, James, and Gordy
The Christening at First Presbyterian Church in Goliad, TX

 I am a bit of a movie freak; I even go by myself sometime.  Now don't get me wrong, no slasher, horror, or stupid ones for me.  Macomb even has an International Film Series hosted by the Rialto Theatre, and I go whenever I am in town.  Of course, we try to only go to matinees--can't stay up too late you know.  I am writing this in Corpus Christi, TX, where Diane and I traveled for the baptism of grandson number three, Paul Austin Stevenson.  Prior to our flight from Midway, we spent a day in Chicago and while Diane made a quick train trip to visit her parents in Zion, I actually bought a new pair of jeans (unusual for me since I hate to shop), but my new waistline mandated a size 32 inch size waist which I haven't seen in a decade.

I had time to catch a flick so I went to a "cancer comedy," a true oxymoron called 50/50.  I didn't know quite what to expect, and I will not give this movie a thumbs up or thumbs down, but if you have had cancer, have cancer, or know someone who has, it is excellent food for thought.  Several times during the film, I got goosebumps as they hit a trigger point head on and made me realize what both the patient and friends experience.  Seth Rogen who is not one of my favorites (probably an age thing) did a fine job as the caring friend who tries to disguise that he truly cares for and loves his best buddy.  It is a film in which you have to sort of go with it, but I actually got quite a bit out of it and others may as well.  I cried; I laughed.  I left the theatre glad I had gone to see it. 

It has been a busy couple of months for us with trips to Europe, Kentucky, Chicago, and now Texas.  Plus an action-packed Homecoming so Diane and I are ready for a more relaxed pace when we return to Macomb on the 18th.  I continue to walk daily, my taste buds are improving slightly, and choking incidences are rather infrequent.  Sometimes my tongue feels a little irritated, but I assume that is just part of the process.  In the final analysis, I guess I am just happy that 7-year old Luke and 3-year old James refer to me as The King or Mr. Fun.  As for Paul, four months, he has yet to settle on a nickname for his Grandpa Taylor.