Open Letter to A Puppy: Free Shipping

My boy,

What have those eyes seen?

I know so precious little about you. A bait dog at a kill shelter in Victorville.

And you used to be afraid of dogs. Now you challenge German Shepherds to chase you. None have come close.

But what about the humans? What were they like?

I ask because another package came from Amazon.

As usual, the box went atop the pool table for slice-and-open.

And, as usual, you head out the dog door when the lockblade clicks.

As usual, you watch the box opening through the glass pane above your door, as if I were handling dynamite.

Finally, after peeking justyourhead beneath the plastic canopy and getting an “all clear” smile do you trot back in.

You seem to dislike the whole process, from incision to the tear of box and tape to the packing paper inevitably raining down.

Did your ex carry a knife? Or hate packages?

Unlike big dogs, your surgery queasiness suggests a deeper scar.

How I wish I knew what the world looks like through  your low-rider prism.

And, to tell you the truth, I love that you’re a pacifist.

The best soldiers always are.

Deja Viewed: ‘The Big Chill’

“The Big Chill” isn’t just a movie – it’s a time machine set to the beat of Motown.

Lawrence Kasdan’s 1983 gem reunites college friends for a weekend of soul-searching after a tragedy. It’s a snapshot of a generation realizing their revolution got lost in the mail.

The ensemble cast is a who’s who of ’80s talent. Glenn Close, William Hurt, and Jeff Goldblum lead a group so natural you’d think they shared a dorm.

But let’s talk about that soundtrack. It’s not background noise – it’s practically a character. The Temptations, Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye – each track is a time portal to the characters’ glory days.

When the needle drops on “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” you can feel the years melt away. For a moment, they’re young again, full of hope and terrible dance moves.

Kasdan’s direction is like a good host – it knows when to mingle and when to step back. He gives his actors room to breathe, resulting in moments that feel stolen from real life.

The film walks a tightrope between laughter and tears. One minute you’re chuckling at Jeff Goldblum’s acerbic wit, the next you’re gut-punched by the raw emotion of a shared loss.

Yes, it’s a Baby Boomer manifesto. But strip away the ’60s references, and you’ve got a universal story about growing up and realizing life isn’t what you ordered.

“The Big Chill” is comfort food for the soul. It reminds us that while we can’t go back, we can always gather our tribe, crank up some Smokey Robinson, and dance in the kitchen.

It’s a film that, like its soundtrack, only gets better with age. It’s a testament to the power of friendship, the pain of compromise, and the eternal hope that maybe, just maybe, we can still change the world.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a sudden urge to dust off my vinyl collection.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​