#personal-reflection

A quiet reflection on Finch (2021) that moves from post-apocalyptic fiction into memory, grief, and love that has to be passed on. What begins as a simple film becomes something more personal, an echo of fathers gone, old dogs remembered, and the fragile hope of what we leave behind.

Three orange kittens have reinstated a procedure I first developed in 1977 after watching 2001: A Space Odyssey and taking it perhaps too literally. Same laundry room. Same two doors. Same sequence. Forty years of dormancy, and the house just kept it waiting

I've been watching Americans lose their grip on what's true—on both sides—and couldn't find the right words for it. Turns out a Jewish philosopher arrested by the Gestapo found them first. A Catholic pope delivered them to me. And Tolkien had already written the scene.

November 10, 1975: The Edmund Fitzgerald vanished in a storm on Lake Superior. Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting ballad keeps their story alive. Remember the 29 lost that night.