Alltel gig

I was watching TV with Tracy a week or so ago and one of those Alltel commercials came on. One of the ones with Chad with the pointy blond hair and the four geeks that consistently fail to do bad things to him. I looked at Trace and said, "I hate these commercials".

The next day I got a call from my agent.

Yup. An Alltel commercial. With Chad and the four geeks who consistently fail to do bad things to him. We shot it last Friday at the newly renovated Book Cadillac Hotel in downtown Detroit.

I'm just an extra on it, (one of a couple of dozen), so it's not a particularly big deal except that it's part of their national campaign, so I'll get my mug all over America for a few weeks and that'll give my kids and my grandkids a chuckle.

I usually don't like to do extra roles, because as I have said before, anyone can do that. You don't even have to be an actor to get those gigs. (You could get that gig. All you gotta do is have the look they want and be able to follow simple directions. A couple of years in a Catholic school is all the experience you really need).

But, it was a Union Job, so there is a buy-out and it made me a few hundred bucks on a day when I would of otherwise made nothing.

So.

Good deal for me.

Next time you're fast-forwarding through one of those commercials and you see Chad and David Stremme (a Nascar guy who was in the shoot) sitting at a dais like they're in a press conference, slow it down and look front-row center, on the aisle where the "press" is sitting. From the back you will see the little half-acre of vacant lot on the back of my head where I used to grow hair, and from the front you will see my smiling face. (Acting! Ahh thank you.)

And by-the-by, Chad and company are actually pretty cool guys. They know what they have fallen into (a gold-mine) and they are grateful and humble about the whole thing. The two most frequently asked questions? "Is your real name Chad?" (Yes. From Peoria for gods sake), and "What happened to the original fat guy?" (Um, can't really talk about it, but green grass on the far side of fences isn't always what it seems.)

cornbread, sausage and lamb stuffing w/ turkey

Although I am a big fan of traditional stuffing at Thanksgiving, I have had this recipe a couple of times over the years and have found it to be a nice alternative. I hope you enjoy it. dA

What you'll need:
12-14 lbs turkey
8 1/2 oz box of cornbread mix
1 lb spicy or sweet Italian sausage
1/4 lb ground lamb
1 C of chopped celery
1/2 cup of chopped scallions (green onions)
1/2 C chopped parsley
2 T poultry seasoning
10 1/2 oz can of chicken and rice soup
1 stick of soft butter
3 T olive oil
couple T flour
2 T sea salt
1 T black pepper
8 oz pkg of chicken broth

Remove giblets and neck from turkey and heat in sauce pan with chicken broth and water for 30-45 minutes to use as base for gravy. Strain and set aside.

Prepare cornbread mix per pkg instructions, bake and let cool completely. Once cooled, crumble into large mixing bowl.

Brown sausage and lamb in large skillet. Drain excess grease when browned through.

Add sausage/lamb, celery, scallions, soup and seasonings to crumbled cornbread and mix completely, then stuff inside turkey cavity. Cover turkey with softened butter, tent with foil and bake according to package instructions.

About an hour before turkey is done, remove foil and baste. (Turkey should heat to 170 in thigh and juices should run clear when the skin is pierced. Stuffing should heat to 160 degrees in the center).

Once the bird is done, you should let it sit for 15-20 minutes and allow the stuffing to get to about 165 degrees and temperature in the thigh should get to 180.

In the skillet you browned the meat in, add olive oil over low heat. Add flour slowly, stirring continuously until brown. Add turkey drippings and reserved giblet broth and whisk until thickened. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Remove stuffing from bird and place in serving bowl. Carve up that bird and help your plate with turkey, dressing and gravy. Add all the other stuff that makes your Thanksgiving special and have at it!

Mmmm. Now that right there's just one more thing for you to be thankful for! Happy Thanksgiving!

dA

Michael and me

Scott Allman, (no, no relation so don't ask...although he is Laurie Allmans brother, and he was in a band called The Flying Tigers which was managed by Johnny "Rock n' Roll" Sinclair, who managed the MC5 and who was friends with John Lennon so he knew some people who knew some people who may have been distant relations, still, that doesn't make him an actual Allman Brother....)
...anyway, Scotty and I had lockers next to each other in Jr. High School, and we both lived in New Mexico in the early 70's and over the years our paths have crossed in many and varied ways.

These days he is a videographer and produces an award winning cooking show called "Fork In The Road", which is seen nationally on Public Television and features foods from and locations in Michigan and around the Midwest. (http://www.forkintheroadtv.com/). It's a very entertaining program and presents the Midwest and Michigan in an unique and informative way.

But that's not why you called.

Recently there has been some blowback from our State Legislature about the Michigan Film Incentives law. Even though the Incentives have succeeded in making Michigan the most fiscally attractive state in the union to make movies in, and they have been wildly successful in bringing Hollywood to Michigan, there are some who are afraid that they are requiring us to give back too much of the money we would not have had if the incentives did not exist...

What?

Okay, as simply as possible here's the deal: The State generated $120 million dollars in revenue from filmmakers who made movies here in the past six months. The only reason they made movies here is because The State told them they would get $40 million dollars back in the form of tax credits. They could have made their movies anywhere, but it was suddenly way cheaper to make them here instead. So they did. They get $40 million back, we get $80 million we would not otherwise have had. Some of our State lawmakers think we could still get that business without offering the incentives. There's a lot more to the story, but that's keeping it simple.

Scotty called me a couple of weeks ago and suggested that we make a short film about the Michigan Film Incentives and the impact they are making on people and communities around the state.

So I made some appointments with some State Legislators and with people at the film office and we started making this movie and this guy, Ken Droz at the Michigan Film Office called me last week and said, "Hey, Michael Moore is going to be in town this week for a meeting with the Film Commission. Here's a contact from his office you can call and maybe he would be in your movie."

So I made a couple of calls to Michael Moores people and they said they would check with him and let me know if he would meet with us long enough to get some sound-bites and get him on film.

Well, back and forth and blah blah, yak yak and we never heard back with a yes or a no. So Friday rolls around and Scotty and I look at each other and say "Dude, let's just go down there with the equipment and set it up. What's the worst that can happen, he says no?? Big deal, we've
been told no before."

So we did.

And we get downtown to the Film Office and we park the van and I'm helping Scott unload equipment and I look over my shoulder and guess who's getting out of the van in back of us? Yup. Michael Moore. So I yell to him, "Hey Mr. Moore!" And he flinches and tries to make himself small, (yeah, that's not happening. That right there is a big man trying to get small...), so I go up to him and introduce myself and give him Scott's bona fides and explain what we're doing.

Turns out his people never told him about us, (yeah, probably their job to shield him from bozo's like us). But he's cool and apologizes and explains that he doesn't normally get into movies other than his own, but have a nice day and see you around.

Now I look at Scott and say, look we're here, we have no idea what this meeting is about, but let's go in and hang around and maybe an opportunity will present itself.

So we do.

Turns out it's the first meeting of the new Michigan Film Commission, and it's got all these people on the commission including legislators, union people, some movie people, and a few others.

I look at the agenda and see that there is a time set aside at the end of the meeting for public comments.

Well, you know me, I never met a public I didn't want to comment to, so I bided my time and when the opportunity arose I stood up commented publicly about the great opportunities afforded me as a Michigan Actor by these great incentives and explained my role with Val Kilmer and Armand Assanti in "Steam Experiment"

("You see Mr. Chairman, I like to call them Val and Armand")

and how cool it was "for a guy with limited talent and a 38 inch waist" and how I never would have had this great role if it wasn't for these great incentives bringing Hollywood to Michigan and about halfway through my remarks the Chair interrupted me and said to the whole room, "I like this guy!" and by this time Michael Moore is looking at me and smiling real big and I go on to tell the room that my friend Scott and I are making this little movie and we'll be handing out business cards 'cause we're going to want to get some of you all on film, for sure.

So afterwards I'm talking to Mike and he's real cool and encouraging and wants to look at our little deal when we get it done and we part as new BFF's.

As we were talking I say, "Mike, dude, you tried to make yourself look real small when I shouted hey in the parking lot" and he says, "Yeah, it's true. People either like me or really dislike me. The people who dislike me are pretty intense about it, and even the people who like me don't like me that much. Whenever someone shouts my name in public, I always wonder if it's the last thing I'll hear."

So. Like I said. Long story...pretty funny, but long.

Doctor? Oh doctor...

I woke up this morning in a very strange position.
I did something in the middle of the night...I have no earthly idea what happened, but somehow my left elbow was twisted completely around the right side of my body.
The pain is unbelievable.
I'm sure you can imagine.
My shoulder is completely dislocated.
Just to relate this to you requires that I type with my right hand only, and it's causing the carpal tunnel in my right arm to flare up and, god, I don't know how I'm going to dress myself.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the tone of the presidential campaign and the divisiveness of the partisan e-mails I have received over the past year or so has caused, uh, what's the name... irreparable damage to many of my personal relationships and has brought on a whole new level of the chronic, um,
depression that I have suffered from over the years.
Oh yeah.
Years of depression.
It has gotten to the point that well, frankly, it's making it extremely difficult just to function.
Really hard.
Painful.

And I hate to admit it, but this acting thing, well, it's just not paying the bills....
Lotta stress there.
I can tell ya.
Lotta stress.

Did I mention this toothache I got?
Unbelievable throbbing, uh, aching pain and the gums have swollen to the point that it's, um, actually rubbing on this canker sore on the inside of my cheek and, uh.... Wow.
Really sore.
Painful.
It's making it tough to even talk.
Eating? Forget about it. Too sore.
Way too sore.
Lotta pain. Feels like it could even be chronic pain.

Not sure what I can do for that.

So.

Oh look.
I read in this mornings paper that, apparently, the people of the State of Michigan have passed this "Medical Marijuana" law.
Huh.
I had no idea....

Gee whiz.
I wonder how that works.

dA

Wolverine in October

After returning home from World War II my father worked for the Michigan State Extension Service as a County Ag Agent way up in Cheboygan County Michigan.
Think Hank Kimball from the old sitcom "Green Acres" without the goofy hat or the slack-jawed look of confusion.

He and my mom rented a place in Cheboygan from Robert Lewis, a man several years my dads senior and the Postmaster at Mullet Lake.
Bob and his wife became great friends with my parents and whenever business took my dad downstate, they would keep mom company and help her keep a handle on her two young children, my brother Denny and my sister Deanna. (12 and 10 years older than me. Kind of my parents' first family...)
The Lewis' quickly became extended family and although his wife died before I was born, for my siblings and me he was 'Uncle Bob' until the day he died.

Uncle Bob was an avid outdoorsman and an accomplished hunter, fisherman and trapper as well as a crack shot with all manner of firearms.
(I remember being in Wolverine with my son Aaron when he was about 6 and Uncle Bob, already well into his eighties, would have Aaron toss charcoal briquettes into the air and he'd pick 'em off one-handed with my old .22 bolt action rifle. Later in the evening, my dad made 'burgoo' camp stew and he and Uncle Bob told stories about fly fishing in the Sturgeon River, deer-camps long past and the time they shot a black bear and her two year old cub up off of Perry Rd down one of the old logging trails.)

Bobs wife's family owned property on Shire Rd. in Wolverine; about 50 acres of field and forest which included a ramshackle old tar paper house affectionately known as "Loose Lodge".
The property was situated on prime hunting land populated with white-tail deer, black bear, northern elk and game birds of every description including wild turkeys, ring-neck pheasant, grouse and partridges in pine trees. When she passed away it came to him.

{If you'd like to know where these places are, hold up your map of Michigan - that's your left hand, palm forward - and look at the fingernail of the finger you use to tell drivers on I94 near Detroit exactly what you think of them. At the very tippy-tip of that nail is where you'll find Mackinac City and the mighty Mackinac Bridge - a miracle of technology and the third longest suspension bridge in the world, (http://www.mightymac.org/bridge.htm) - which connects Michigan's Upper and Lower Peninsulas.
Just a smidge towards your cuticle and south on I75 is Mullet Lake, the village of Topinabee is
at the south end of the lake, then the town of Indian River, and then the village of Wolverine about 12 more miles down on Old US 27.
From The Bridge to Wolverine doesn't cover the whole fingernail, About thirty minutes down the interstate. (http://www.fishweb.com/maps/cheboygan/index.html)}

By 1960 my dad was teaching at MSU and we were living in East Lansing.
(Map up? Okay, center of the state about parallel with the thumb joint between Grand Rapids and Detroit along I96. About 220 miles south of Wolverine in the days before the finished interstate).( http://www.mapsofworld.com/usa/states/michigan/michigan-map.html)

My dad had scraped up some dough and Uncle Bob sold him 36 acres of the land on Shire Rd.
My father and his brother George, with occasional help from other family and friends, slapped up a two bedroom hunting cabin on a slab, trimmed with parts scavenged from junkyards and put together with labor fueled by Budweiser and cheap scotch and managed by the heavy hand of Edmond, my dad.
"I'm the foreman on this job, goddammit! Don't talk to me now, I'm cogitatin' on how to cut this lumber....let's see now...that door jamb's gonna be 76 1/2 inches less two marks.....Oh shit. That's too short. I'ma have to cut it again! SMOKE BREAK!!"
(Meanwhile, being like eight years old, I became a world class tree climber and just tried to stay out of the way).
The interior was finished in unfinished dry-wall and concrete floor...
("Oh, don't you worry. We'll get that finished! Projects, goddammit! Keep these kids busy 'round here!")
...and the 'guest bedroom' was furnished with 2x4 studs nailed together to frame two double beds, stacked dorm-room style.
We burned wood for heat, initially. Eventually we got an oil burning furnace and within 25 or so years we graduated to clean burning propane, but we never did get rid of that greasy oil smell in there.
The little cottage was dubbed "Slipshod Manor" and it was our 'summer estate' and weekend retreat for better than thirty years.

My mom's father, Joseph Felix Lamondra, came and lived with us around'64 or '65 and made the drive north with us on several occasions before he passed away.
He wasn't wild about it.
"Asshole of America. That's what this goddamned place is Mary Leone. Twenty damned miles one way to get to mass and it doesn't matter where you set up the radio, you can't get a damned Tigers game up here for love nor money!"

One summer dad found an old wooden speed boat some guy built in his basement. It came with a 45 horse Johnson outboard engine. I wouldn't say it leaked, but that boat definitely seeped.
Now a boat, seepy or not, is a good thing to have Up North in the summertime.
We were like 12 miles from the Inland Waterway, and up there, that meant a little bit of heaven. You could fish in several different lakes and rivers without leaving the boat, get gas and groceries (and beer in later years) at various marinas along the way and meet girls at a variety of public beaches, none of whom were likely to meet each other any time soon.
And if you happened to have a pair of water skis and the ability to stand still while moving fast? Yikes! At 17, the world is your freshwater clam!

I've reached the age now where that's how I see it.
I remember one of my "most embarrassing moments" with nostalgia instead of pain.
(It's the one where I had Pete Spata and Pat Peterson and maybe Mike Kavanagh up from Lansing and I was showing 'em how good I could ski.
We had put the boat in at the public landing at little Silver Lake and they were standing by the boat ramp watching me go 'round.
My plan was to drop the rope on the slalom-ski close to shore, give 'em a little splash as I cut hard to stop and trot up the shore real cool like.
I had a hard time getting my dad, who was driving the boat and was loathe to get too close to shore, to get me in where I could pull this thing off.
Finally, he got me in real close.
Actually, a little too close. I dropped the rope, but couldn't quite maneuver my turn. My ski stuck in the sand and I kept going right up that gravel drive on my stomach. I picked gravel out 0f my chest for 7 years....)

I like to remember the bucolic walk to the lake with my sister Dawn. In reality it was two miles on gravel and dirt in 90 degree heat with deer flies bitin' and blisters growing between your toes from your flip-flops.

I see it now in my minds' eye as a pleasant drive north instead of a miserable four plus hour trek in a 1962 Ford Falcon Futura with red vinyl seats and 4/70 air conditioning, (4 window's down and 70 mile per hour).
I always got stuck in the seat behind my dad.
He was a smoker.
And a spitter.
One or the other was always going out his window and coming right back in mine.

Still and all, there's no place like it on the face of the earth.

I used to feel like I was on vacation the minute I hit that hill past the rest stop north of Clare.
It's about the halfway mark to Indian River from East Lansing.
It's the cusp of "up north".

Just this past Monday afternoon I felt it.
I couldn't resist it.
It's a three hour drive in relative comfort now, and I felt like I was on vacation the second I got in the car.
I went north.
Up to Wolverine and that Indian River.
I walked for a minute down that funky old dirt and gravel road, looking for deer tracks where I knew they'd always be.
I threw stones at that little Sturgeon River and remembered catching trout there long ago. I remembered catching way more trout than I ever really caught.
I looked at the place where my mom and my sister loosed my fathers ashes out by an old fish pond in the midst of tall white pines that we planted as seedlings back in 1968.
And when I left on Tuesday, the sky made blue a living thing. And though the bright reds were already gone, still the earth was arrayed in impossible color.
Unpaintable.

Here's the truth right here.

I'm a lucky duck all in all.

Happiest damn man in America.
Maybe I'll write another bad poem and go to bed now.

dA