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Tuesday, February 24. 2009

Alfalfa Hair and Oscar

Had the funniest thing happen Sunday. My friends and I went to a chili cook-off in Poway, a little suburban community east of San Diego. Nice place actually, if you don’t mind horses. Once my heart is fixed it’s my intention to pedal the Trusty Trek up and down the horse trails that are clearly marked “No bicycle riding.”
 Defiance is my one outstanding characteristic!

Anyway, the three of us piled into my friend’s American-made convertible and since it’s Southern California we sped over the pavement with the top down. Fuckin’ A bitches! We may pay through the nose to live here but we enjoy being outside in February!

I sat in the back seat, enjoying the blustery blasts of wind coming from literally every direction, taking in the panoramic view of Poway Valley and the surrounding hills as we flashed down the Pomerado Road grade, the valley and hills spread for ten breath-taking miles to the east. It was a lovely ride.

We got to the chili cook-off, splayed with the freshness of semi-mountain air mixed with that curious taste of salt so common in coastal areas. There were nine entries of chili to taste and we were encouraged to try all with the accoutrements: several different shredded cheeses (although I use only cheddar), diced onions and saltine crackers. Gotta have the saltines!

So, for about 90 minutes I ate chili and chatted up the women, secure in my fantasy that I’m a relatively urbane, witty, handsome and well-kept man, stylish and admired, even sought after, by members of the opposite gender! Yes! Several women were happy to look at me, their eyes wide!

And then I had to hit the restroom to relieve the suffering of my bladder. I looked good in that black leather jacket I imagined, as I sauntered across the room like Marlon Brando in the The Wild One.

When in the restroom with a wry smile, I saw myself in the mirror — and my hair was as windswept as if I’d just left the backseat of that convertible. Until that moment, I was not aware a man of my age could possibly have Alfalfa hair, or, more precisely, a mix of Alfalfa and some nameless punk star wannabe who sprays mousse in his hair to keep it looking disheveled.

It is possible. It’s been said anything’s possible so a man of my age can have Alfalfa hair. Thankfully, there is not a picture of that moment for I would be compelled to prove my head was home, for 90 minutes, to Alfalfa hair.
•••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• ••••

The Oscars are now over, Slumdog Millionaire was the big winner with eight statues, including Best Picture. Penelope Cruz won for best Supporting Actress for her role in Vicky Cristina Barcelona and the late Heath Ledger won for Best Supporting Actor for his role as the Joker in The Dark Knight. Some think his role in Brokeback Mountain was Oscar-worthy, but as the Joker, Ledger was unforgettable. That will be his best role, the one we all remember as Heath Ledger at his best.

Kate Winslet won Best Actress for The Reader and Sean Penn won Best Actor for Milk, the story of America’s first openly gay politician who, along with Mayor George Moscone, was murdered in San Francisco some thirty years ago by Dan White.

Even though still in Wisconsin at the time of the murders, I remember hearing news of those events when they happened. Maybe it was the filter of being in the Midwest or just the facts of the case, but for me the murder was more about the Mayor than the Board Supervisor. Dan White, a conservative politician and former policeman, went to see the Mayor that day in hopes of the Mayor appointing him to the Supervisor seat White had just resigned. Mayor Moscone said no and Dan White shot him.

Then, White walked down the hall to Harvey Milk’s office and killed him because Milk had lobbied the Mayor hard not to appoint White to the seat he had resigned.

A few days later Dan White turned himself into the same police precinct he served in as a cop and the rest is history. But, Harvey Milk is the one featured in the film — and that’s as it should be; he was a groundbreaking politician, but I like to remember Moscone, the first truly liberal mayor in San Francisco history. He appointed minorities, women and gays to his administration and other city patronage jobs, ushering in a new era of government that would truly represent the entire populace.

Dan White, one might remember, was acquitted of murder charges and instead was convicted of voluntary manslaughter, serving less than six years in prison. In 1985 White took his own life by carbon monoxide poisoning; no comfort really to the people left behind, including his wife and two daughters.

It was the “Twinkie defense” that got White off the premeditated murder charges. Two psychiatrists testified that White was suffering from diminished capacity at the time of the killings, due to depression. The depression led to what would be abnormal behavior for White, who was said to be extremely health conscious.

One of the symptoms of the depression: an increased consumption of junk food — hence the “Twinkie defense.” No one ever said the junk food, and Twinkies in particular, caused the depression, let alone the murders, but it was interpreted by critics of the verdict as White’s defense: junk food, symbolized by Twinkies, was the cause of White’s depression and ultimately the murders.

And California changed the wording of the law because of that fallacious interpretation of the verdict. It’s no longer “diminished capacity,” it’s “diminished actuality.” What does that mean?

This in no way exonerates Dan White or even that I agree with the verdicts. Before committing suicide, White admitted to the police officer that first arrested him he had premeditated the murders and really wanted to kill two other people as well. Dan White should have spent the rest of his life behind bars.

So, this past Sunday, Sean Penn won the Best Acting award for his portrayal of Harvey Milk; it honors more than Penn, it also honors Milk and, I would hope, George Moscone. And it also sent a message, delivered by Penn when he received his statue, to those who voted “Yes” on Proposition 8 that banned gay marriage in California: everyone in the state deserves equal rights.

Posted by Tim Forkes in The Arts at 00:01 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

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