A Man Called Otto: Learning to Appreciate a Grumpy Old Man

 

Beloved and I broke what was probably our longest run of non-movie-attendance last Friday by going to see A Man Called Otto, starring Tom Hanks.

Both of us are Hank fans, so we went in with fairly sizable expectations. And both of us left chanting, "That was so good..." For my part, it wiped away my disappointment in Pinocchio and put Hanks back in the "He Can Practically Do No Wrong" category.

The only problem I have is that I want to tell you about some of the impactful moments in the movie, but I have a greater desire for you to experience the gentle unfolding of Otto's story for yourself. So...treat yourself to an adult (but not as in "adult bookstore" adult) film that engages the mind and heart without depending on adrenaline.

On a semi-related note, the ticket-seller asked if we were seniors, and it kind of set me on my heels. It was the first time I had ever been asked that...and the first time I ever admitted, even to myself, that...yes indeed...I am.

But I hope that doesn't mean the title of this post is referring to ME instead of Otto.

Crying in My Sleep

 

I started sifting through one of the piles of papers in my home office this morning and found this...I don't know...poem?

I wrote it on a series of sticky notes; I think either in the middle of the night or right after getting up some morning. I'm pretty sure it's close to being a true story.

Crying in My Sleep

I dreamt of you last night
You had created a beautiful coffee-table book
of quotes and pictures
and poems and life

You had bared your soul in print
and put me on the cover
Me
On the cover
And I sobbed so deeply I couldn't breathe

To be so fondly remembered
To have a memory of yourself so deeply cherished
Well, it is able to separate bone from marrow
and put Humpty Dumpty together again

I dreamt of you last night
And was reborn

Books I Read in 2023, Vol. I

 

A SERPENT'S TOOTH: A Walt Longmire Mystery
Craig Johnson

It's homecoming for the Durant Dogies when Cord Lynear, a Mormon "lost boy" forced off his compound for supposedly rebellious behavior, shows up in Absaroka County. Without much guidance, divine or otherwise, Sheriff Walt Longmire, his second-in-command, Victoria Moretti, and his good friend Henry Standing Bear search for the boy's mother and find themselves in a high plains scavenger hunt that ends at the barbed wire doorstep of an interstate polygamy group. Run by the 400-pound Roy Lynear  -  Cord's father  -  the group is frighteningly well-armed and very good at keeping secrets. As Walt, Henry, and Vic pursue and butt heads with the Lynears, they hear whispers of Big Oil and the CIA and find they might be dealing with more than they bargained for.

Another satisfying read. I was glad that THIS one didn't take place during the winter and that it didn't include all the strange visions and is-this-guy-dead-or-not mysticism of a couple other books in the series. Also, it was more of a nuts-and-bolts police procedural with a healthy dose of humorous interaction among the main characters. 3.5 out of 4 stars.

First line: I stared at the black-and-orange corsage on Barbara Thomas's lapel so that I wouldn't have to look at anything else.

Page 56/Line 5: "Excuse me, Sheriff."

Last line: I breathed in the scent of her along with that of the black-and-orange corsage that I carefully placed on the pillow beside her head.