AN OBSERVATION

Common sense...is not so common.

ET TU, CLOONEY...THE IDES OF MARCH IS A DATE TO BE KEPT.

As a rule, men worry more about what they can't see than about what they can.

If you must break the law, do it to seize power: in all other cases observe it.

No one is so brave that he is not disturbed by something unexpected.

Men in general are quick to believe that which they wish to be true.

Fortune, which has a great deal of power in other matters but especially in war, can bring about great changes in a situation through very slight forces.

   - All above quotes courtesy of William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar

The best of Shakespeare's plays dealt in some form or another with political machinations and intrigue. MacBeth, Titus Andronicus, Richard III, and of course, the above referenced Julius Caesar. However, the power of those works stem not from the politics themselves, but the effects of political intrigue have on the participants. Like the play from which the film's title is cribbed, "The Ides of March" shows the how the quest for power in the political arena can shatter perceptions and compromise integrity.

This film is not the first cinematic foray that proves Lord Acton's axiom of absolute power's ability to corrupt. However, it is one of those rare films where the plot is actually the MacGuffin. Instead, this is a character piece; one that plays with and subverts the audience's perceptions and expectations.

The film stars Ryan Gosling as Stephen Myers, a cocky young assistant campaign manager for democratic presidential hopeful, Governor Mike Morris (George Clooney, who pulls double duty as both co-star and film director) under senior campaign manager Paul Zara (Phillip Seymour Hoffman).  Myers seems to know all the angles and is smooth with the interns; in particular one Molly Stearns (Evan Rachel Wood). All seems to go well for him until he receives a fateful phone call from the campaign manager of Morris' rival for the democratic nod (Tom Duffy, played with smarmy bluster by Paul Giamatti). What follows from that phone call leads to a domino effect that leaves none of the characters unscathed.

Gosling is the star, but Clooney's directoral vision dominates this movie which is infused with themes and motifs: How even the simplest of choices, whether made or abdicated, can alter the course of an entire enterprise. Of how hubris causes both rise and fall and how reality of perception is mutuably transient. Like Hitchcock before him, of which the tone and pacing of this films owes a great deal, Clooney's direction paints a moving picture of mood and symbolism, deliberate yet portentous in its pacing, yet somehow lackadaisical in its methodology. The major beats in the story do not hit like a brick to the head, but sneaks like an adder until the revelation strikes; but even when its strikes, it's akin to a sail boat ride with a light wind.  The film does not spoon feed its revelations, working mostly by implication to get its point across.  Thus it is more of a thinking person's film than the general public would expect. Even the score by Alexander Desplat mirrors its tonality, enhancing the action but in muted fashion, not musically telegraphing the revelations ahead of time. This film's strongest asset is its ambiguity; not just in and of itself, but in its characters' actions and ultimately their motivations.  There are no easy answers and no one is what they seem. Visual symbolism is used to great effect here, such as the use of windows to show reflections of people, but as opposed to mirrors, the reflections are insubstantial, almost ghostly, as if to remind the viewer that what they are seeing may not be there. This is in direct contrast with the art deco-styled posters of Governor Morris, which despite showing solidity of imagery is in fact a tailored manipulation to elicit a response to garner votes. And the characters evince this same mutability so that by film's end the audience's perception of them is markedly different than shown at its beginning. The film is evocative of film noir with its heavy and calculated use of lighting and shadow to engender mood and portent, and in some cases to enhance the leitmotif of insubstantiability of character both figuratively and literally. 

The film would not work without the talents of the ensemble cast. Clooney deserves kudos for not only directing and acting in this film, but by also manipulating his on-screen charisma to his character's advantage, playing Morris as an ersatz Clinton-esqe, man of the people candidate and (SPOILER: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED) when it comes time for the facade to drop, Clooney reveals the powerful actor that lies beneath the Clooney mystique. Some may balk at the political rhetoric espoused by Morris throughout the film (a valid consideration given Clooney's liberal leanings), but Clooney wisely interjects it with the main action so that the speeches, like the political battle of the story, take a back seat to the human conflicts unfolding in this tableau. Ryan Gosling, to his credit, gives his own chameleon-like performance, going toe to toe with some of Hollywood's heavyweights, including Clooney and character actors Hoffman, Giamatti, Jeffrey Wright as a senator whose support both democratic nominees need, and Marisa Tomei as a jaded, headline hungry political reporter. Perhaps the only true human connection one can find is with Woods' character Molly, a late teen/early twenties' intern who has the brains to play with the political big boys but soon finds herself in way over her head.

This film does not come with any easy answers, leaving the viewer to fill in the blanks and draw their own conclusions. This may hurt the film in a culture which requires every plot to have a neat ending with the sides of good and evil clearly drawn. But this is not a film about good and evil, nor is it a political intrigue actioner with dead bodies abounding (SPOILER: There is one consequential death, and it still leaves the lingering question of whether the fatality figuratively jumped or was pushed). It is a film about truths and perceptions, ideals and their subversion, humanity and its nature. It is a film where anyone may be Caesar or any of the conspirators. It leaves you wanting more, but in a good way.

Thus, to paraphrase Gov. Morris' debate speech at the beginning of this film, "If you're expecting action with this drama, don't see this film." "If you're expecting to have every shred of information handed to you, don't see this film." However, if you are looking for a taut, suspenseful, norish, character-study thriller with remarkable performances, then definitelhy see this film. "The Ides of March" is definitely a date to be kept...just keep all sharp implements at the door.

ROCKIN' AND SOCKIN' 'EM IN THE AISLES..."REAL STEEL" IS THE REAL DEAL

As I first watched the trailers for this film, I could just imagine a Hollywood pitch meeting taking place in a table at Spagos or The Brown Derby or somesuch local. During a power lunch wherein a small appetizer could cost as much as an average person's daily salary, someone says in eureka fashion: "How about 'Rock 'em, Sock 'em Robots' meets 'Rocky'"? "That's a brilliant idea," chimes a producer, "let's go for it! (in a cheeky bit of faux cleverness in reference to 'Rocky V')". And yes, "Real Steel", directed by Shawn Levy (the "Night at the Museum" films) and produced by the likes of Levy, Steven Spielberg and Robert Zemekis (among others) as a Dreamworks/Disney collaboration, does heavily crib from both concepts but, instead of feeling like a rehash of what has been seen before, seems fresher than it should. This is due to a combination of the screenwriting talents of John Gatin with story by Dan Gilroy and Jeremy Leven (based on a story by Richard Matheson [I Am Legend]) and the cast, headed by Hugh Jackman ("X-Men Origins: Wolverine", "The Prestige") and Dakota Goyo ("Thor").

It's an underdog story. Boxing with robots has supplanted human boxing as the dominant sport sometime in the relatively near future. The story heavily homages (or is that "steals from"?) the first Rocky film in many ways, and in one key sequence virtually (literally and figuratively) recreates classic choreography (according to IMDB, "Rocky IV").  Charlie Kenton (Jackman) is a once promising boxer now down on his luck robot boxing participant who is constantly on the run, whether to find a new robot to bring him back on top, evade the many creditors who hound him, relationships with women, or himself. In the midst of this, circumstances bring him into an unwanted contact with his born out of wedlock son, eleven year old Max (Goyo), who harbors deep resentment towards his absentee father. Things change when Max discovers a discarded sparring bot (named "Atom", a symbolic name due to his stature compared to other fighting bots in the film as well as its underdog status).  Both father and son engage in a journey to find common ground as they work the boxing circuit to find legitimacy and validation both within and outside the ring.

The actors deliver powerful performances. In the hands of other actors, absentee father Charlie could have come across as despicably deplorable. However, it's Jackman's innate nature that keeps the audience's sympathy (which may actually be counter productive to the character development, as the further "into the moral depths" a character falls, the greater the redemption if achieved). He brings an everyman's sensibility and carries the weight of failed hopes and dreams well, though mixed with a hopeful, never give up tenacity even when he knows his plans won't work. He's all bluster and hype in front of others, but he evinces a vulnerability that lets the audience know its all an act.

However good Jackman is, his considerable star power does not soley carry the film. In fact, the majority of the burden falls upon young Goyo as his illegitimate son, Max. Last seen in Kenneth Branagh's "Thor", Goyo has much more screen time and makes the most of it. By now, the know it all, more mature than the adult child is an exasperating cliché; most of the time portayed by youngsters who are equally as exasperating. However, Goyo straddles the line between precociousness and annoyance naturally because he plays the role as a boy, not an adult in a child's body. Thus he keeps the audience sympathy all throughout the film; no mean feat. Arguably, if this role was miscast the film would fall apart. This is not to say that the supporting players, such as Evangeline Lilly ("Lost") as Bailey Tallet, the daughter of Charlie's boxing trainer, current owner of the family gym and implied previous love interest, Hope Davis ("About Schmidt") as Max's aunt Debra who seeks sole custody of him, the ever-reliable James Rebhorn ("Scotland, PA", "The Talented Mr. Ripley"), as Marvin, Debra's milquetoast but affluent husband,  Karl Yune ("Memoirs of a Geisha"), who plays creator of ultimate battle bot "Zeus" (read "Apollo" Creed from "Rocky"), and Kevin Durand ("Lost", "X-Men Origins: Wolverine") who plays an ex-boxer who had defeated Charlie in the past and to whom Charlie owes money, are in any way deficient. Their performances help build up and support the main conflicts, truly making this film an ensemble piece. However, the linchpin is the relationship and chemistry between Jackman and Goyo. One believes that their characters are father and son (and cut from the same mold) and Goyo allows for subtle nuances in Jackman's character in terms of the latter's development (a prime example of this involves a slight running gag involving hamburgers). They are the heart and soul of the film, thus keeping it from becoming a faux Transformers.

And speaking of Transformers, Michael Bay should go back to school and take a course in "Robot Filmmaking 101", with "Real Steel" being the required curriculum. After all, one of the main problems with the big screen "Transformers" is that both the Autobots and Deceptacons looked virtually interchangeable with some minor exceptions (Optimus Prime being one); just a mass of whirling gears and cogs held together by virtually indistinguishable exoskeletons. In this film, each robot has its own unique form with a personality somewhat reflective of that form. The crowning jewel here is Atom itself. All the robots are a combination of CGI and actual robots, so it is a credit to the special effects team and puppeteers that we have a rare instance of the CGIGumby" Hulk), have lacked; including Transformers. To say more about Atom itself would give away a major spoiler that was left somewhat underdeveloped, but suffice it to say the audience comes to care about the robot's fate as much as the human actors whose care it is in.

The direction by Levy is tight, as is the editing by Dean Zimmerman. There are very few spots that lag on longer than they're supposed to. Levy keeps the performances rooted in reality without going over the top in some cases. Further, he builds up the storytelling and the stakes and hits the appropriate beats to build to a satisfying crescendos and conclusions. In the theater I went to, through two climatic fight sequences, despite the fact that on an intellectual level everyone knew they were watching a CGI display, the actions, emotions and stakes were so high that when the fights came to their respective conclusions the audience reacted, clapped and cheered as though this were a real time event; something that was absent from all the Rocky forays since its first sequel (perhaps having much to do with the fact that, in many instances, the fights were choreographed by boxing great Sugar Ray Leonard) or any other underdog fighting film, for that matter.  The film's score was by Danny Elfman, who yet again reaches out from his quirky comfort zone and produces a score reminiscent of the more traditional, feel good scoring efforts of the 1980s by frequent Spielberg and Zemekis collaborators John Williams and Alan Silvestri. Elfman's score, while not particularly cohesive in terms of its themes, does give the film its own distinct identity while recalling the types of scores from a bygone era.

This feels more like a film that should have been a summer release; perhaps the producers felt that it would have been lost admist that season's other sci-fi release. They needn't have worried. PG-13 for its violence and language, this film comes closer to being a family film without being excessively cloying. It's a fun film full of pathos, action, and humor with themes of rapprochement and redemption. Its more than robots beating each other. Its about emotional distances being closed and finding the courage to continue fighting even when the fight is all but lost. The best sci-fi is rooted in relatable human drama, and this film should be counted among the best. In terms of its entertainment value as well as the messages it conveys and bang for the box office buck, "Real Steel" is the real deal.

BEWARE THE SNAKE OIL INFOMERCIAL

Donald Lapre is dead.

Many of you may not know the name, but if you've stayed up to watch late night syndicated television, you must have seen his seemingly ubiquitous face in those hours. He knew how to make you rich, he would state enthusiastically with exhuberance etched in his cherubic, youthful features. In the late 80s and through the 90s he was the face of the infomercial, second only to the pseudo real estate guru Tom Vu, whose infamous slogan was "If you don' come to mah fwee seminas', you deserve to be bwoke!" Lapre initially sold books and tapes on real estate secrets but his most recent business foray was into the world of nutritional suppliments, specifically "The Greatest Vitamin In The World"...a product that eventually led to his Federal arrest on charges of conspiracy, mail fraud, wire fraud, promotional money laundering and transactional money laundering. He was found dead this past Sunday morning at 8:30 a.m. in his cell at the correctional facility where he was held, an apparent suicide, two days before his arraignment.

So why mention any of this? Because, to steal from a corpulent cartoon character from Fox's Sunday night line-up, it "grinds my gears" when someone touts a "get rich quick" scheme and tries to sell it with fuzzy logic and numbers, living by the mission statement as espoused by Joseph  Bessimer (not P.T. Barnum) that "there's a sucker born every minute". Yes, it is a fact of life that snake oil salesmen will prey on the hopes, dreams and yes, fears, of individuals who yearn for a better way of life. In fact, these types of salesmen are a perversion of the American dream; it's dark flip side where, for a time, crime does seem to pay. But it's not only a financial crime that's being perpetrated; its also emotional with often devastating results. True, Lapre and others like him did not hold a gun to their victim's heads to hand over their hard earned cash. However, despite the caveats regarding something being too good to be true (and especially in these uncertain economic times), the chance at a better life for oneself or loved ones is sometimes too great to ignore. In the end however, another cliche applies "easy come, easy go". 

For Lapre, his business indiscretions finally caught up with him. I am no legal expert, but I would surmise that the case against him was iron clad for him to have despaired to the point to take his own life. It is sad that he believed that the way to get ahead was to bilk others out of their dreams and savings (in one case, according to one complaint listed rip-offreport.com, one person was taken by Lapre to the tune of $100,000.00), but there is one less huckster in the world. On a larger scale, you have Bernie Madoff, who has paid for his own larceny not just in his arrest, but in the smearing of his own name which led his son to suicide a year into the former's incarceration.  They may have "gotten rich quick", but sometimes the cost of such ventures carry a price higher than they can cover.

So the next time so see an infomercial late at night due to insomnia or because your significant other decided sleep was a better option than other activities, ignore the get rich quick schemes. If you have to succumb to the temptation of ordering something, order the "Magic Pellet" or somesuch item; at least with that you have a chance of getting your money back.

MISSION STATEMENT OF THE NEW SOUTH MIAMI-DADE CULTURAL ARTS CENTER: ETHNICITY IS KEY

In late August, 1992, Hurricane Andrew, a category 5 storm, buffeted South Florida with fierce winds and heavy rains, the hardest hit area being that of South Miami-Dade, Homestead in particular. The property loss was devastating to the point that it was questionable whether the area would be habitable again. In its aftermath however, a group of concerned citizens and couty commissioners made a promise to rebuild and revitalize the area.

Almost twenty years and approximately fifty million dollars in the making, the South Miami-Dade Cultural Arts Center is both the culmination and the beginning of that promise.  It is a two building, three story cultural arts complex whose facades jointly are built to resemble two hands clapping, and its design is a welcome change from the ubiquitous, unitarian sameness of the general South Florida architectural landscape. However, while it is touted as a "cultural" arts complex, its opening festivities  evidenced a mult-cultural theme, which included a local troupe of grade schooloers performing a choral medley of Michael Jackson hits, opening with "Can You Feel It" and including "Man in the Mirror" and others, which was followed by an African dance presentation and Middle-Eastern belly dancing.

Newly minted Mayor Carlos Gimenez along with Commissioner Dennis Moss, among others, took to the platform for the requisite speeches and declarations of mutual admirability as spinning, multi-colored ribbons unfurled in the wind to denote the opening of the center.

Despite having three floors including balcony sections, the main stage auditorium is smaller in comparison to other theaters in the South Florida area, but what it may lack in size actually engenders a surprising degree of intimacy, allowing the patron to feel closer to the performance presented on the stage.

The opening performance itself was a wholly original piece in five movements, incorporating elements of music, interpretive dance, video and art; one that made great use of all of its elements. The beauty of the performance was its confluence of themes: ethnicity (in the form of the performers on stage as well as the music utilized, which included Jazz, Latin and Afro-Caribbean), Hurricane Andrew and its aftermath (the lynchpin that engendered the creation of the center in the first place), and integration, showing not only the cycle of destruction and creation, but that all these seemingly diverse and divergent cultural styles can come together for a beautious, organic whole; a perhaps unintended indictment against the idea of segregation.  In other words, not even a cataclysm can destroy hopes and dreams when they are unified into one.

With all the interminable back patting and kudos that delayed the beginning of the first movement, there were some glaring omissions. The show's director, Heidi Miami Marshall, put together a marvelous show which only had a few, though hardly discernable, missteps. Musical Director Jorge Gomez, who put together an ecclectic variety of musical stylings and integrated them into a lyrical whole.  The dancers, headed by choreographer Rosie Herrera, were entertaining, acrobatic, and "in step" with the pulse of the music.

However, a show cannot be put on unless the venue that houses it is running efficiently and to capacity. Special thanks should have been shown to the staff and volunteers of the center, and most especially to General Manager Eric Fliss and Operations Manager Daphne Webb. The opening of a cultural center as ambitious as this, in both fiscal and production terms, especially one of this size and cost, is no small feat. Not only was the building spotless and in fine working order, but the volunteers and staff were pleasant and accommodating and what little glitches there were, were addressed and attended to posthaste. Usually it is the builidng managers and staff whose efforts go unrecognized in a venture such as this. In this column, consider those praises sung.

The center is an ambitous project. It is located in an area that is far from the usual art locals of Coral Gables, Downtown Miami or the Fashion District. Further, it is in an area that is arguably still under development. However, from looking at a listing of the upcoming shows, such as performances of Nestor Torres and James Cotton, a reimagining of Shakespeare's Hamlet set in Cuba, and A Night in Treme showcasing New Orleans Jazz (an area that has much in common with Homestead), the center aims to show that a cultural center can express art that is, to paraphrase one of last evening's speakers, "more than just ballet".

The opening was, for all intents and purposes, a success. Its presentation was its mission statement, which was received loud and clear. It now has the unenviable task of revitalizing an area many considered to have been a lost cause. Whether that goal will become a failure or a success remains to be seen.  However, if last night's presentation is anything to go by, it proved that the County is taking a step in the right direction.

MARK ZUCKERBERG IS THE GEORGE LUCAS OF THE INTERNET or CHANGE IS GOOD…UNLESS IT’S ON FACEBOOK

Top Story: Facebook plays mind games with its users.

Status Update: The only constant is change. It’s not only an axiom that holds true, it’s one that seems to be wholeheartedly embraced by Facebook. You know that bank commercial where some guy wakes up one morning and goes into the kitchen and finds a strange woman and two girls he’s never met and he asks “where’s my family”, and the woman responds that they’ve replaced them and he replies “but I liked my old family” and she retorts “we’re your family now”? It’s kinda like that. 

I liked my old settings…not that I had enough time to “like” them per se as it seems that in less time than it takes to switch a light bulb some new setting on Facebook is added or altered. In some cases, its unnoticeable; in others, such as the most recent update launched this date, it's more frustrating to navigate than the LA Freeway without benefit of a map or GPS and as incomprehensible as Jersey Shore’s popularity. Not to mention the outrage I feel (and believe I’m not alone in) when I check in to find myself in another cyber landscape. It’s like I’ve gone to bed in Miami and then woke up in Honolulu (well, can’t say that would necessarily be a bad thing…).

But how much of my page really is my page? After all, the need-an-attorney-to-decipher terms and conditions in a nutshell states that it’s the property of Facebook and that anything you put up on it becomes part of Facebook in perpetuity (the recent scandal regarding the inability to completely wipe one’s page and its contents from the Facebook servers is proof of that). In fact, Facebook has the ability to delete a page without notice or explanation. It’s only “yours” in the sense that you can post on it.


Which means that Facebook can play with its settings to its heart’s content. And, as its own entity, it has that right. The problem comes when those changes affect the way its users enjoy their Facebook experience and, to go by many of the posts that are made once a new change is effected, that enjoyment diminishes. Ease of use is a major factor with any medium or item. The easier it is to use, the more likely and consistent that usage becomes. Each subsequent change seemingly begets frustration and, in a couple of reported cases, security issues (such as the recent “Instant Personalization”, the automatically enabled feature that shared data with non-Facebook sites).

Now, the nature of life is change and in it’s own weird way Facebook, millions strong, has almost become a living entity onto itself in the same way that a corporation is a “person” as asserted by a certain Republican presidential hopeful (which has its own can of worms, but I digress). It will change and evolve…or not…as it is the nature of things. Think of Zuckerburg as George Lucas and Facebook is his “Star Wars”. The page is tweaked and re-tweaked as is each subsequent video release of the “Star Wars” films. However, each subsequent alteration brings out a collective “Nnnnnnnoooooooooooo” from their respective fandom, begetting more ire than welcome.

Facebook supplanted MySpace as the premier social networking site (just Google “does anyone use MySpace anymore" if you require proof). It is referenced in television, films (one of which was a film about its origins) and print. Businesses advertise on it, going so far as to create their own pages for marketing to the extent that you can log into other non-Facebook accounts with your Facebook log-in. It’s fast on its way to becoming as necessary a tool for communication as a telephone. It’s infused itself not only in the American consciousness but the world’s as well. For a long time it has been a social networking monopoly and when monopolies exist, well, let’s just say that choice is not an option. But there are options now. Google + has made its way on the scene and by all accounts is attempting to make its own site as user friendly as possible. Other web companies such as Yahoo are attempting their own forays into the social networking scene. In other words, there is no need for one to stay with Facebook if it’s no longer suiting one’s purpose. There are options and there will be more. Competition is a good thing.

So bear this in mind the next time you decide to incorporate a massive change to the way one views Facebook, Mr. Zuckerberg: How about a feature that asks a user whether or not they want changes enabled without review and having the option of whether or not to implement it? And don’t present the illusion of choice; instead let people retain their ability to choose. To change a person’s settings without their permission is insulting, implying that Facebook does not value them and obviates their power of choice as immaterial. It’s all about choice. Choice is one of the ideological foundations of this country. Remember, an American Revolution took place because the power of choice was taken away. Keep this up and a social network revolution will be underway.

Paul Anthony Llossas “likes” this.

9/11

Never forget. Never again.

Four simple, but important, words that speak volumes. There are other writers, journalists, bloggers and commentators greater than I who have waxed philosophical about what this day means. I won't even try. The enormity of what happened that day, not only in terms of the amount of lives lost but it’s ramifications physically, emotionally, intellectually and, dare I say, spiritually are too great to encapsulate in prose. Hence this particular blog entry is not as polished as other entries. It is more stream of conscious writing and I hope that you understand and bear with.

Our culture has been irrevocably changed. Trips abroad now seem to be tinged with a hint of danger. A simple walk down the street to the grocery store can instantly become a "dead man's walk". Decency and morality seem mutable; easily discarded in the name of "national security."

I've tried to keep this column free from political agenda and bias, preferring instead to keep its focus to matters of popular culture, literature and art. However, on this day I cannot help but note that ten years on our American culture still seems to be defined by strife from within. Pundits of two political parties attack one another in the media, spouting inflammatory rhetoric that says absolutely nothing. Each side regurgitates the same talk ad nauseum, pointing out everything that is wrong with our country (and blaming in on their political opposites), but rarely offer concrete solutions. Yet from without and within there are those that are still conspiring to inflict lethal blows to this nation and the ideals it stands for. Perhaps there hasn't been an attempt by them to repeat the damage caused by 9/11 because those very same forces are pointing and laughing at the fact that we're doing such an admirable job of that on our own. A burgeoning new political party is gaining traction; what better epitome of how fractured and prone to divisive disagreement is there?

Remember that one of the things that make this nation unique is our freedom and ability to disagree even in the face of adversity. For a couple of days after 9/11 there was a feeling of unity. Race, politics, backgrounds...(except for a couple of exceptions...and in those cases more due to fear mongering than anything else)...was immaterial. We were Americans first. After a while not only things seemed to have returned to “normal”, they got worse. As human beings…as Americans, we are better than that. If we are to learn anything from this day, it is that we have the ability to rise above our wounds to become stronger than before. Not just physically, but morally, intellectually, and spiritually, however you choose to identify with the latter term.

One last thing...on that day, we reached out to people...to some we may have taken for granted because we saw them every day...Some people never realized they were saying "good bye" to their loved ones for the final time.  So please, whenever possible, do not let a day go by without letting someone know how you feel about them. On that day someone very special said three words to me I never expected that person to say. Yet it was profound in its effect. If nothing else, 9/11 showed the fragility of this thing called life. There is a nine month build up to our entry into the world but it takes less than a second to effectuate our exit. Each day is a gift. Make it count...for yourself…and someone else.