The Way Home -- A Movie Review

The Way Home, a family movie starring Dean Cain (“Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman”), tells the story of Randy Simpkin, a man who finds himself struggling to juggle the demands of his job and those of his family. As the family prepares for a long-awaited beach trip, Randy steps inside the house for a moment to check work messages on his computer, and while he is inside, his two-year-old son – whom his wife had asked him to watch to give her a chance to close up the house – disappears.

Randy and Christal are suddenly thrust into a parent’s worst nightmare, and they desperately look for Joe with no success. The sheriff is called, and the search begins. Thanks to Randy’s mother, whose ties with other church members spread far and wide across the county, the Simpkin home is soon filled with onlookers and well-wishing folks hoping to help finding the missing boy. After receiving clearance from the sheriff, everyone gets to work, and every inch of the fields surrounding the home is combed. It’s not long until a TV reporter arrives at the home along with a camera man and a helicopter. In front of her unfolds a breathtaking scene – hundreds of people are searching, praying, consoling and doing all they can to support the panicked family.

Meanwhile, while the search for Joe continues, Randy embarks on a different kind of search – he suddenly remembers moments he could have spent with his family which he chose instead to pour into his job. His mind wanders to imagine the unthinkable, and realizing that he might never see his son alive again, Randy falls to the ground, quickly sinking into an abyss of guilt and despair.

The day slowly drags toward the evening hours, and hopes of finding Joe alive and unharmed drip away like the colors of the setting sun – the boy has not been found so far, and with so many ponds, swamps and snakes in the area, his chances of making it through the night drop by the minute. Will the search party bring Joe Home?

The Way Home is a heartwarming, inspirational film suitable for the whole family to enjoy. In a society like ours, ultimately dedicated to weighing priorities in the wrong order, it is a painful reminder of what truly matters and what, in the end, does not. The film does a wonderful job expressing an important concept: The power of community. We have become so self-isolated and tuned into a world of progress and illusion that we have forgotten how important it is to rely on one another. This community did not. Though they all lived individual lives, the moment one of their own stumbled into trouble, everyone was ready to help in whichever way was needed.

The Way Home is based on a true story, a chilling fact that reflects our own need to look deep inside our hearts and be aware that tragedy can always be awaiting around the bend; if it does, being alone and regretful is not the answer.


website: http://www.thewayhome-movie.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Way-Home-a-MOVIE-Starring-Dean-Cain/88393118828?ref=ts

Disclaimer: I am not being paid to write this review. The thoughts expressed in the review are my own and they are not, in any way, influenced by anyone involved in the making of the film.

The Business of Making Time

“One always has time enough, if one will apply it well.” ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


If you are like me, there are more things you enjoy doing than there are hours in a day to get them done…or so I thought until not too long ago.

With several projects on the burner, three children, a husband, and a family business, I always felt as if I was running circles around myself, and one day I told a friend that I wished days could be made of 48 hours each. Her answer to me was: “Days are actually longer than you think they are. Why don’t you try making a list of things you need to do and things you enjoy doing? Write beside each of them how long it takes to accomplish the task, and then calculate how many hours you are awake each day.”

After I hung up the phone, I thought of what my friend had said, and intrigued enough, I sat down with pen and paper in hand. I decided to not include the three hours after I first wake up, since I’m usually blogging and catching up with e-mail at that time; if I count hours from 9:30, which is approximately the time I get back home after dropping my daughter off at school, until 11:30 at night, there are almost exactly fourteen hours of waking time I can use.

So, I started writing down all the things I do on the average day, and those I would like to do, at least some days. If I dedicate an hour a day to housework, an hour each to dinner preparation and homework, two hours of writing, three hours of miscellaneous stuff, an hour to get the kids to bed, one for dinner and clean-up, and even an hour for the occasional nap, I only need eleven hours of my day to get everything done.

Eleven hours?? If I only need eleven hours a day to feel at peace with my conscience and get things accomplished – including those I enjoy - that means I have another three hours to play with…where had 180 minutes of my day been hiding all this time? I started getting excited at the prospect of having three hours a day I could read or do anything I like, so I really gave the new schedule some thought.

No spiteful goblin had ever come to steal the extra minutes; I was the one who had stolen them from myself. Talk about a wake-up call! How had I not noticed the problem before? It occurred to me then that I had been attaching minutes here and there by lingering and procrastinating. It was time to bring this outrage to an end.

I made myself a list broken down in three time blocks – morning, afternoon and evening, and I plugged the different tasks into the slots corresponding to the time of day I normally try to get those things accomplished. I couldn’t believe it! Even after getting everything on my list checked off, I was left with forty-five minutes of free time in the morning, thirty minutes in the evening, and an hour and a half in the afternoon.

Someone once told me that when you want to do something you have to make time for it. I strongly suspect now that this person had talked to my friend.

The Twelve Days of Thanksgiving

Good morning everybody!

Since I was busy last night, and didn’t get the chance to write anything new, I thought of posting something really cute that someone sent me last Thanksgiving. I don’t know who the author is, but it might just start your day with a smile…

“The Twelve Days of Thanksgiving” ~ Author unknown

On the First Day.....
We give thanks for the fresh turkey feast and its hot trimmings.

On the Second Day.....
We bless the cold turkey sandwiches, sloshy cranberry sauce, and hard rolls.

On the Third Day.....
We praise the turkey pie and vintage mixed veggies.

On the Fourth Day.....
We thank the pilgrims for not serving bison that first time, or we'd be celebrating Thanksgiving until April.

On the Fifth Day.....
We gobble up cubed bird casserole and pray for a glimpse of a naked turkey carcass.

On the Sixth Day.....
We show gratitude (sort of) to the creative cook who slings cashews at the turkey and calls it Oriental.

On the Seventh Day.....
We forgive our forefathers and pass the turkey-nugget pizza.

On the Eighth Day.....
The word ''vegetarian'' keeps popping into our heads.

On the Ninth Day.....
We check our hair to make sure we're not beginning to sprout feathers.

On the Tenth Day.....
We hope that the wing meat kabobs catch fire under the broiler.

On the Eleventh Day.....
We smile over the creamed gizzard because the thigh bones are in sight.

On the Twelfth Day.....
We apologize for running out of turkey leftovers. And everybody says, "Amen!"

The Sad Cashier

“Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.” ~ Swedish proverb.

Just a few days ago, I went to a store and waited in line while the cashier took care of the long line of people in front of me. Even as I leafed through a magazine to pass time, I couldn’t help noticing with the corner of my eye that the cashier was edgy and seemed to be absent-minded.

I heard a couple of snappy comments directed at her, so I put down the magazine and just watched. Oblivious to the negative vibe she was quite clearly fostering around her, the cashier continued to scan items, any trace of a smile as absent from her face as sunlight on Pluto.

When my turn finally came, I put my items on the counter and watched the cashier more closely. She scanned a couple of things and looked at her wrist watch before grabbing a few more items; the pattern repeated a few times, and the anxiety on her face seemed to grow by the minute.

My first assumption was that she was eager to finish her shift, but on second thought she seemed too edgy for that to be the only reason for her scattered behavior, so I simply smiled at her and asked her if she was okay. She looked up, smiled sadly and said that she was fine but was worried about a close member of her family who was undergoing surgery at that moment. I told her I was sorry to hear and she replied that she was waiting for a phone call to confirm that the surgery had gone well.

I tried to fit her shoes for a moment, and wondered how I would feel in her position – certainly just as edgy. I thought back about the people who had shown obvious reproach at her behavior and realized then how often most of us jump to conclusions without knowing the facts. I asked the girl if she wanted to go ahead and call her family while I was there, using the excuse of a price check. She declined my offer, but the smile on her face was one of relief – although she was still worried, the fact alone of being able to voice out her worries with someone immediately lifted her spirits. I wished her loved one a speedy recovery on my way out and left the store.

We rarely know what’s going on in the lives of those we cross paths with every day. We set certain standards in our minds, and frown if the person we meet falls short of our expectations; this individual could have a thousand and one reasons to act a certain way, but, unwilling as we are to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, we judge their situations and make unfounded assumptions.

Reaching out to others is certainly more productive than lashing out at them. The reward we receive is undoubtedly greater, and it is worth the few extra seconds we have chosen to invest.

Turning a Negative into a Positive

“Become a possibilitarian. No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see the possibilities — always see them, for they're always there.” ~ Norman Vincent Peele


When I went to bed last night I lay there and tried to recap my day. I spent hours arguing a point I felt passionate about, and wondered if all the arguing had indeed made any difference. As we delved deeper and deeper into discussions about pet care, about the fairness of contracts and their effectiveness when applied to specific situations, and about who was right and wrong, one of the comments caught my eye. The essence of this comment was that a wrong thing could be turned into something good if we just turned the energy around.

I’m sure it was obvious even to the people who didn’t agree with the posts that all the fuss was originated by a common ground we all shared – our love for animals. Looking back at the situation itself, who was wrong? Was it the shelter for adhering to their policies? Was it the family for admitting to a mistake yet loving the pet as a part of the family? In reality no one was truly wrong and everyone was to some extent - we all chose to look at things from our point of perspective and defended our views on the subject.

I agree with the poster who talked about turning a negative into a positive. In the heat of the discussion, we all forgot about the wonderful service rescue centers like Cat Angels provide for our animal friends. I, for one, am very grateful centers like that exist. That said, I think shelters have set rules that are too strict for people to comply with, and I am hoping that if we raise awareness to this fact, more animals will indeed be adopted and will enjoy happy lives in their new homes. As I had stated to someone on the board, why would anyone go through all the screenings, pay a fee and live under the threat of having their pet removed over a technicality, when they can just as easily adopt an animal they find advertised on Craigslist or on the newspaper, for free and with no strings attached? Unfortunately, this kind of sentiment leads to animal not finding homes, and from what I heard yesterday, it is quite widespread.

What if we can use the power of the internet to promote adoption, rather than discourage it? This wonderful virtual world is at our fingertips to help us promote awareness and educate people on the benefits of adopting animals, rather than buying one from a breeder. I apologize if I allowed my personal emotions to get in the way of my rational thinking, and I would like for everyone to see that if we invest the same passion into reaching a common goal, everyone is better off because of it.

I would like to ask Cat Angels to be willing to revisit their decision in the case of this particular cat, and to see that each case should be assessed individually. This family never meant the cat any harm, and they love him dearly. Please give them a chance. As for myself, I can pledge that if this situation is turned around, I will gladly use the power of words to help with future adoption efforts. We might not be able to change the whole world, but we can certainly try to improve it the best way we can by focusing on our common goals.

The Beauty of Imperfection

“There is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way.” ~ Christopher Morley

Some time ago I pondered about how different my life is now compared to what it was when I was younger. I remember needing others’ approval a lot, especially when it came to my parents. Although they never had non-realistic expectations for me, I had them for myself.

Anything less than a straight A was not good enough for me at school, and I always strived to reach perfection. I kept my house fairly neat but polished it within an inch of its life if someone was coming over. Same with the kids – I had this image made up in my mind of the perfect household, and anything less than that simply wasn’t good enough.

Somehow, through the years, I changed. It was not anything I did different, or anything I consciously acknowledged, but over time I realized that happy children are more fun than perfectly behaved children, and a house that’s not completely organized is more comfortable to live in.

My huge test was this year, when my parents came to visit. I had been extremely busy before their arrival, and had no chance to organize my house the way I always did. I took a look at it right before going to the airport and told myself it really didn’t matter – my parents were coming to see me, not my house.

And indeed I was right. I don’t think my parents thought twice about the toys or anything else that wasn’t in place. They were so happy to see us that we could have lived in a rundown shed and they wouldn’t have noticed.

That’s when I realized how often we needlessly worry about things that are only alive in our own minds. We assume we know how people will feel because that’s the way we would in their place, but in reality we have no way of knowing.

I have friends who have destroyed relationships because they were certain their partner was being unfaithful, when in fact the other person had no intention to betray them. Their doubts were the mere product of their own insecurities.

These days I no longer worry about what others think. I accept the fact that they may live, think or behave differently than I do, and I am comfortable being my own person.

Perfection is a state of mind, and it truly is in the eyes of the beholder. I believe my life is perfect as is now – I don’t have a perfect house, perfect children, a perfect spouse, and I am certainly not perfect myself, but I am happy and at peace. Even when some things remain undone.

For Better or Worse

I recently finished reading a book, written by ST Underdhal, entitled “Remember This”.
"Remember This" is the story of Lucy Kellogg, an elderly lady - once independent and dynamic - whose grip on reality slowly slips away as she surrenders to the unforgiving talons of Alzheimer disease. Lucy Kellogg loses things, confuses reality and fantasy, gets lost herself, but ultimately remembers those who hold a special place in her heart. The pain Lucy's son feels as he watches his mother slowly losing her connection to reality - and reversing back to being a child - is almost tangible. I thought about this book yesterday, as I ran into an older couple, while visiting my husband at work. At first sight, the couple looked suave and very ordinary, until I noticed the lady was slightly on edge, and followed her husband’s every move with apprehension. I sat with them and struck a conversation, and quickly learned that her husband has Alzheimer disease.
She told me a bit of the struggle they go through on a daily basis, and of the paralyzing fear which takes hold of her anytime she loses him out of her sight for even brief periods. She told me about the patience that’s required in taking care of someone afflicted with the disease, especially in the final stages, and sadly stated that her two sons – both grown and living out of state –refuse to help in any way. Furthermore, she said, they have no visible patience whenever they visit, and quickly lose their temper with him.
As the lady spoke I could feel my heart breaking for her husband, and for her. They raised two sons, sacrificed years of their lives to make sure their boys were well taken care of, and once they needed a small return of love and comprehension, it was simply not there. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.
I thought about all the situations when I lose my own patience. It is easy to become irritated when people are on a different page, but how could it ever get this far? How could I fault someone for not being mentally sound? I thought about my parents, and all they have sacrificed to raise me into the woman I am now, and knew that although patience is not my greatest virtue, I could never do that to them.
Before leaving, I looked at the gentleman sitting beside her; He was like a small child living in his own world, comfortable in the knowledge that his wife was there to take care of him. I stood up and hugged the lady, wishing her good luck. The gentleman looked up at me, a confused look curtained his soft, gentle eyes; it was as if he noticed me then for the first time. I leaned over and hugged him too. He smiled and hugged me back.
When I left, I turned around twice to look at the couple through the glass windows. They looked so sweet sitting there together. I silently said a small prayer for the lady to continue being strong, and for the gentleman to go through these last stages of his ordeal with the smallest amount of discomfort. I also said a small prayer of gratitude, for being allowed to witness, on an ordinary day, such an extraordinary display of genuine love.

Pointing Fingers: Is John Edwards' affair truly important?

On August 8th 2008 at least fifteen people died in a fatal bus crash, as they were traveling from Houston to Missouri. http://www.newsobserver.com/nation_world/story/1170448.html
On the same day, Russia launched an aerial assault and sent troops into Georgia http://www.mcclatchydc.com/227/story/47016.html, and new evidence surfaced about some of our Washington vineyards being turned into pot farms http://www.newsobserver.com/2188/story/1170628.html.
Yet, on August 8th, the eyes of our Nation - and those of the rest of the world - were focused on John Edwards’ marital indiscretion. As I surfed through the channels I couldn’t help shaking my head. In the aftermath of more important events, every primetime news channel was feasting on the dirty details of John Edwards’ affair, hoping to dig deeper than the competition.
Personally, I think that as long as he was honest with his wife about the tryst with Rielle Hunter, he owes nobody else any kind of explanation. I think that if he is still married to the same woman after thirty years, and together they have survived raising four children and endured the death of one, few people are in the position of judging the integrity and strength of their marriage and family. Since he wasn’t in office during the affair, there was no reason for him to announce such a painful situation to the rest of the world, and his public silence only protected his wife and family from the indignity they are suffering right now. What happened between John Edwards and his wife should remain between them, and dealt with within the boundaries of their individual acceptance. As for the rest of the world, I think we have more pressing issues to be concerned about.
Why are we so ready to jump into other people’s private affairs and elevate them in the list of our Nation’s priorities? Truth is everyone likes to point fingers. More than anything, undermining someone in the spotlight makes us feel better about ourselves and our own shortcomings. We have become so shallow and filled with self-righteousness that we salivate at the mere opportunity of proving someone else’s lack of integrity; we saturate media and other networking channels with empty news, rather than using these same channels to raise awareness on what is truly important. Thousands of children can die or become orphans in Indonesia, but we are more interested in the birthday celebration of Tom Cruise’s two-year-old daughter.
If we truly hope to change our country and redeem ourselves as a people, it is time we rethink the way we prioritize. I hope Britney Spears will find her light and Angelina Jolie’s twins will continue to prosper; and to those who feel that they have never made any mistakes, I would like to invite them to run for office.
I also would like to remind them that when we point one finger, three of them are still pointed back toward ourselves. Ahem...that is something to think about.