Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. (Matthew 6:33)
Author: Jack Flacco
Jack Flacco is an author and the founder of Looking to God Ministries, an organization dedicated to spreading the Word of God through outreach programs, literature and preaching.
Every February the second or so, my kids and I pop some corn, grab a few drinks, and ease into our seats in front of the TV to lose ourselves in the movie Groundhog Day. It’s been a tradition in our family for quite a while. Every few years even my wife joins in on the fun. What is it about Groundhog Day that makes me want to be a better person? Let’s find out and chalk my findings to Freedom Friday.
Groundhog Day
Let’s get one thing out of the way—this is not a movie review. These are random thoughts about a movie, how it’s affected my life and continues to affect my life from one year to the next. Besides, something about a guy who goes crazy believing he’s a god makes for an interesting story. We’ll get back to that a little later on.
If you haven’t seen Groundhog Day, the premise goes something like this: What would you do if by some fantastic freak event you had to relive the same day over and over again? I’m sure the comment on the tip of everyone’s tongue wouldn’t be anything less than, “It depends on which day.” What if it was the worst day of your life? Not traumatic, but a real bad day gone south.
I’ve thought about this long and hard. There’s no escaping it. I’d probably end up doing exactly the same thing Bill Murray’s character did when attempting to cope with his predicament:
I’d fall into a cycle of denial
I’d realize I could do whatever I want knowing tomorrow’s another day
I’d believe I was a god
I’d get fed up and want to kill myself (remember, he’s stuck in hell)
But you know what? No matter how bad things get something good always comes from something awful. That, without a doubt, is the message of the movie.
Groundhog Day clock
Without specifics, I’ve had to live through my own Groundhog Day, which I now embrace as something that has made me who I am today. Had I not gone through that experience, I certainly wouldn’t have gained a more focused approach in my ability to look on the bright side.
Someone said to me this week, a lesson not learned is a lesson worth repeating. I’m not sure if that’s a real quote but it makes for a great motto. Take it from a guy with a hard head—you crash into a brick wall a few hundred times, eventually it’s going to start to hurt. Of course then the question surfaces, why would you want to crash into a brick wall in the first place? Like I said, I’m a guy with a hard head.
Thankfully, I haven’t had to threaten kidnapping of Punxsutawney Phil or our beloved Canadian groundhog Wiarton Willie. Nor have I had to worry about dressing as Clint Eastwood’s Man with No Name in order to consider myself worthy of popular opinion. Although I reserve the right to change my mind on that last point. A guy has to have fun once in a while.
“This is a true story. The events depicted in this film took place in Minnesota in 1987. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.”
Frances McDormand as Marge Gunderson
In fact, it isn’t a true story. That’s the charm of Fargo. Filmmakers Joel and Ethan Coen added the disclaimer in hopes viewers would be more willing to suspend their belief of the events of the story. The film is about a kidnapping gone awry in the cold climes of Minnesota and the police officer, Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand), who breaks the case.
Unassuming but tenacious, Marge, this week’s Women Who Wow Wednesday feature, has a way with catching criminals. Unlike other officers of the law, her language contains a generous helping of “there in a jiff”, “time to shove off” and “thanks a bunch.” When watching her work for the first time, one cannot help but notice the simple-minded feel she projects while she investigates a murder scene. Make no mistake; her quirky exterior hides her razor-sharp ability to see through lies and discover the truth.
Marge Gunderson
In the midst of this, her husband provides her support by visiting her at the station. “I brought you some lunch, Margie,” he says. They talk about his painting. Only, she’s the one providing support after he reveals their neighbors may have a better painting for an art exhibition. Marge, the trooper that she is, says, “You’re better than them.” Which he quickly answers, “They’re real good.” She shoots down his insecurities, “They’re good, Norm, but you’re better than them.”
Punctuated by episodes of an ordinary life, Marge handles every clue to the mystery with the same instincts a bloodhound would use to track its prey. Layer upon layer, she puts it all together as if it were a challenging puzzle ready for the final piece.
When she meets with anyone posing as a threat to her investigation, she focuses her aim on pointed questions, never deviating from her prepared script. One of the best lines in the movie is the one she utters after the man she’s investigating uses the word “darn”—as in “I answered the darn…I’m cooperating here.” To which she replies:
“Sir, you have no call to get snippy with me. I’m just doing my job here.”
And when it’s all over and done with. When there’re no more criminals to catch. Marge talks of the futility in chasing after a little bit of money. In terms of her simple life, she can’t understand what compels anyone from destroying other people’s lives in order to attain that “little bit of money.”
Which begs the question: Why can’t we all just get along?
After having watched The Book of Eli for the umpteenth time over the weekend, I’ve concluded if we want to survive the zombie apocalypse, we’ll have to change our approach in how we should defend ourselves. As part of my Monday Mayhem series, I’m going to examine various strategies against zombies, specifically, those that will get us killed and those that may very well save our lives.
Tank
Guns and the undead seem to go well together. A zombie shows up at the door and our first instinct, if we’re armed, is to shoot it in the head. This is a good tactic with one belly muncher after you. But what if a dozen or more of these vile rat bags surround the house? Then what? Unless we’re expert sharpshooters guaranteeing every shot lands a bullet in the dragger’s head, we’ll eventually run out of ammo. I’d say the situation calls for another tactic in our fight against the plague of humanity.
Yes, but some say, we can always use vehicles against the horde. What we don’t kill with guns, we can squash with trucks, tanks and jeeps. True. However, how far would we get? Knowing trucks, tanks and jeeps need fuel, we’ll have a limited supply to fend off those gut churners. That’s taking into consideration gas pumps will become obsolete given the lack of electricity. After all, those electrical workers will have changed to become part of the eaters, leaving the grid unattended, thereby promoting power outages.
Now, I’ll give credit to where credit is due: We can build a massive wall to keep the crowd at bay. It’s a great idea on paper. Build the walls high enough that nothing can climb over it. Genius, really. The question then surfaces, how will we feed the people? Will we have farms to provide for the masses? Will we have walls high enough to protect the crops also? If so, how will we defend them? What if a breach occurs, what will be our DRP (Disaster Recovery Plan)? We’re talking about having had the knowledge the zombie apocalypse was coming and having had the foresight to build the walls. That’s what I call a pretty good guess. Yet, it still doesn’t answer any of my questions. Allow me to make my concern even plainer, so you know I haven’t gone crazy—how long before anyone begins to starve behind those walls?
Well then, how about the world’s oceans? No way would those brain feeders have a chance against us if we plant massive bases in the middle of the ocean. Again, let’s think about this for a second. Depending on the amount of people residing on those bases, how do we feed them all? Right. We have yet to come up with a solution to the food dilemma.
Here’s an idea, we could use nuclear weapons against them, haul them into a stadium and blow them to where there’s no tomorrow. Of course I’m being sarcastic.
Braveheart
No, I think the answer to all our questions lies in ancient history. If history has taught us anything, it’s that armies with a strategy, no matter how small, will win against much larger foes.
Perhaps it’s time to bring back the blacksmiths and reintroduce swords in the hands of the agile. Forget about guns, they’re paperweights. Train the soldiers to become proficient in close quarter combat. Lead the battles out of the cities. Strip the forests for spears and use them against the oncoming threat in the open field. Raise up a cavalry decked in armor and plow the multitude until their blood runs as rivers soaking the land. Let the motto “No guts, No glory” dance on the lips of every soldier leading a charge.
As for the food? Build farms with wide fences surrounding the spoil. Position sentries high in the clouds with archers standing at the ready. Create an infantry of knights to defend the crops. Allow none of the maggot chewers to pass.
There are days when you just don’t want to get out of bed. On the other hand, there are days you want the world to stop so you can look around and enjoy the beauty. You’ll study a flower and ask yourself, what made this come from the ground? Its pedals worship the sun in harmony with the grass standing at attention. You listen to that single note in a symphony orchestra, hanging there, waiting for the piano to make the melody with its ghostlike phrasing. The moon listens to its phases. The ocean’s waves sit quietly not wanting to destroy the flowers.
Rainbow Rose [Photo Credit: In compliance with Wikipedia Common Licensing]This is an abstract Freedom Friday post. What is the truth?
The heart of a man stops, ending his journey. The cry from a hospital bed declares new life. The baby snuggles in its mother’s arms. A boat capsizes over rough waters. A whale journeys to the coast of North America, landing on the beach only for others to find it later, dead. The skies are clear. A cloud appears. It transforms into a flower, blooming and exploding in the sky as if it were fireworks on The Fourth of July.
The ice crawls on the roof, thickening as it goes. His sweat from working in the field pours from his forehead on to the beans he’s collecting into the basket. The rain doesn’t stop. Not for Big Ben. Not for the tubes. The wind hasn’t stopped carrying the sand from the desert to the towns. Bagdad will be lonely tonight, but the rose hasn’t lost its pedals.
A heartbeat pounds in the music at the bar. Eyes meet. The evening ends in fireworks. A child visits her grandmother expecting her in bed. Instead, she’s tending the garden pruning the roses. The child smiles. The bottle of wine falls to the floor. Shards of glass cover the carpet. You awaken from the noise wanting to go back to bed. The garbage truck churns its innards, having announced its arrival.
The whistle from the train doesn’t let up. The honk from the taxicabs on Fifth will get you to where you want to go. An airplane burns too much fuel to where it wants to go leaving a trail of debris in the wake of its crash. A truck filled with snow capsizes, burying a pedestrian in his car. Ghosts can’t have the answer. Not yet anyway. The daisies know, but they’re not telling.
Bouquets of flowers [Photo Credit: In compliance with Wikipedia Common Licensing]The lonely silence on a frozen lake gives way to the loon calling its mate. The sparks flying from the fire tell the story of the woman who loved her husband very much before she took her life. The mantel sits bare except for the one rose resting in the center, dew forming on the inside as tears would from a broken heart.
Sometimes, what we think is not what we know as truth.
One rainy evening, a young woman named Rose traveled the tubes with her friends in London to a pub searching for fun on the dance floor. When her eyes met Mark’s, there were fireworks that night. The next morning, Mark explained he had to return to the United States. He was on leave from the military and needed to get back to Iraq where he would help villagers farm in the countryside. They were in desperate need of food since the desert winds would consume the fertile soil making it waste in its wake.
Months later while Rose flicked on the tele, she caught the American news channel broadcasting the names of the soldiers killed in action. She collapsed on the bed when she read Mark’s name scrolling by. The plane he flew crashed and burned after a leak in the line spewed fuel into the wind. Hours later, she ended up at the hospital delivering their baby girl.
It was a clear day when Mark’s burial took place in the United States. Rose had decided just after giving birth that she’d live close to him for the rest of her life so she can respect his memory with a bouquet of flowers she’d deliver to his grave every day.
As the years flew by, and her daughter, Daphne, grew, Rose one day awoke to the sound of New York—a garbage truck processing its pickup, the whistle from the train passing by hauling passengers for their morning commute, the honk of the taxicabs cruising on Fifth. Rose had things to do that cold, winter morning.
On her way to driving Daphne to her former mother-in-law’s, the radio reported news of a man who had died buried alive by a freak dump truck accident. Also reported, a boat capsized in the waters off the coast of California, in spite of the calm waters due to the moon’s phase. The last news item was that of a whale that had travelled from its breeding grounds to a west coast beach and died of exposure.
Soon after kissing Daphne and seeing her off to visit her grandmother, Rose heads for the weekend cabin rental by the lake. When she arrives late in the evening, she notices the ice that had formed on the roof and the silence across the lake interrupted only by the loon calling its mate.
About Midnight, Rose lifted her head from her lap after having cried for hours. Next to her, the bottle of wine she had brought for the weekend was empty. Next to it, a flat wooden box lay untouched. The fire’s flames curled upward into the chimney as she sat staring. She closed her eyes, a few moments later she reached for the box. Inside it rested a gun—Mark’s service revolver bestowed upon her during his memorial.
The symphony music Rose had playing in the background could not drown the sound of the gunshot from outside the cabin. The bouquet of flowers meant for Mark that day sat inside her car on the driver’s seat.
Sometimes, what we think is not what we know as truth.
The bullet meant for Rose grazed her temple landing in the cabin’s ceiling. Reports later suggested she died of a heart attack. But everyone who knew her knew she didn’t die of a heart attack. If anything they knew as truth, they knew she died of a broken heart. And that may very well be the truth.
In one of the most underrated movies in Horror, Trish Jenner (Gina Philips) and her brother Darry (Justin Long) take a ride through the country in hopes of arriving home safe during spring break. Little do they realize something evil stalks the travelers, and they’re about to meet it face to face. This week, my Women Who Wow Wednesday series focuses its crosshairs on the reluctant hero Trish Jenner of the movie Jeepers Creepers.
Gina Philips as Patricia “Trish” Jenner
It starts with the siblings witnessing a possible crime and the story escalates from there. Released in late August of 2001 with a budget of $10 Million and directed by Victor Salva, the movie went on to make almost $60 Million worldwide. Yet, not only did most critics pan it, the film is not a Horror fan favorite either.
Although for a third of the movie Trish appears as a self-centered sister, her character shines once her brother returns in shock after having explored a hole in the ground. Her “keep it together” phrase comes in handy with every passing moment Darry losses touch with reality. Instead of fear, which her brother shows without restraint, her strength lies in remaining calm regardless of what is going on around her.
Jeepers Creepers
The turning point in her character comes when she gets behind the wheel of her busted up collector car and decides to take matters in her own hands. Gone is the apprehensive, smart aleck. In its place, an action hero takes control to save the day. One of the best lines of the movie goes something like this:
Darry: Is he dead? Trish: They never are.
Trish then proceeds to run over whatever’s been chasing them for the length of the film several times before her brother says, “Enough.” Nothing quite like a character who’s had enough of a situation to let her inhibitions run wild.
As much as Trish fulfills the role of a Doubting Thomas, in the later half, she makes it clear her only intention is to protect her and her brother from harm’s way. As much as she complains, throws sarcastic remarks or hides her emotion, she is very much a woman as any woman could be—but stronger. Her instincts guide her in times of peril. When everyone else runs away, she remains firm in her stance against the unknown.
And it’s that firmness in resolve that makes her someone to admire.
Lock your doors. Board your windows. Run and hide. This week’s Monday Mayhem series post brings you another Zombie What Ifs segment designed to challenge all you would-be undead slayers. If you haven’t worked through the first or second parts, no worries, you can have fun any ol’ way you want. Remember one thing—there isn’t any right answer to these. The point is to have fun, enjoy the moment and allow your creativity to run free.
Zombie Hunting Permit
How it works: I present a scenario filled with zombies, and your job is to figure out a way to escape. Of course I’ll give you my answer telling you what I’d do, but it doesn’t mean that’s what you would do. That’s up for you to decide.
Are you ready? All right then. Let’s go!
Scenario #1: Trapped in a locked car, windows rolled to the top and the keys having slipped to the floor of the passenger side, you dive for them. That very moment, one of the undead smashes through the passenger side window, and swipes its paws through the air to get at you. The keys are not on the floor as you originally had thought, but ended up under the passenger seat instead. What do you do, considering three more zombies are on their way and may smash through the other windows surrounding the car?
My Answer: Rise quickly, beat the tar out of the zombie’s face with the heel of my shoe, then dive for the keys hoping I’ll grab them in time before it attacks again.
Scenario #2: A horde of maggot bags chases you into the woods. You sprint, zigzag and find you haven’t lost them. In a desperate attempt to thwart their sensitive noses and ears, you find the carcass of a dead deer. A quarter of its torso is missing, but it gives you an idea. You saw it in a movie once. Do you squeeze into the remains of the deer in hopes the undead will pass you by or do you take your chances and keep running knowing sooner or later you may collapse from exhaustion?
My Answer: Keep running. No way would I want to slip into the guts of a dead deer.
Zombies ahead
Scenario #3: You run down the stairs to the hotel’s main lobby where you spot another group of undead waiting for you. You escape by making your way through the First Floor corridors rattling every door you encounter. All of them locked, you dash to the Fire Exit. Even there, another crowd awaits for its dinner—you. In a desperate move, you double-back pulling on all the doors again. Your luck changes when you find one of them unlocked. Sprinting inside you negotiate the adjacent rooms to fling the door open to the hotel’s indoor pool area. At this point, the gang of rotting flesh mongers plow through all the doors in the area, surrounding you. If you’re not a good swimmer, jumping into the pool will surely mean the death of you. But if you stay and try to outwit them, sooner or later you’ll get eaten alive. If you’re a good swimmer, eventually, you’ll tire and drown. What do you do?
My Answer: I’d rather drown.
Scenario #4: The mass chases you into a garage complete with a set a tools (ie. screwdrivers, hammers, a nail gun, compressed air, etc.) and a few parked cars, which were waiting for repairs. Do you stay behind and fight with the tools on hand or do you take a chance with one of the vehicles (keys are in the ignition)?
My Answer: I always go for the quickest way out—the cars.
Scenario #5: From the barn to the woods is a fifty-meter dash. You can make it, you think. Without a second thought, you run as fast and as hard as you can, hopping the wooden fence to make it to the open field. Twenty-five meters to go and from the woods you see them appear. First, there are twenty. Next, there are forty. By the time you finish your scream, a hundred of them have popped from the woods. You begin to run back to the barn, but it’s too late, the zombies that were chasing you earlier exited the barn with the smell of your flesh in their nostrils. Luckily, the farmers who had been working the field before the apocalypse left a hoe, a sickle and a scythe leaning against the fence. They’d also left the tractor with the keys in it, perhaps evidence zombies had attacked them right there. So, what’s your move? Keep running through the field hoping you won’t get caught? Stay and fight? Or do you try to hop on the tractor to see if it’ll start?
My Answer: Grab the sickle and run. I don’t know if I’ll lose valuable time attempting to start the tractor. I mean, I don’t even know how long it’s been out there.
The color blue is everywhere in my life. It’s in my jeans. It’s on my desktop. It’s even in my dreams. But I’ll tell ya, it’s not my favorite color. Not by a long shot.
As I was saying, blue is everywhere in my life. I search for it when I’m online, when I’m walking to the Main Street coffee shop, and when I’m browsing at the mall. Blue is everywhere.
I really can’t help it. When Avatar came out, I basked in the glory of blue. The movie had segments filmed in nothing but blue. The floating things made me feel warm and fuzzy all over for the things that bring me happiness.
Blue excites me while I drive my family home from visiting my parents late at night. A building stands tall and erect that resembles the final act of Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back. I always say to the kids, as we pass by it on the highway, “Look, it’s the Star Wars building!” They gawk, ponder and wow as we continue on our merry way. The glow of the roof’s cerulean lighting is enough to keep me entertained for the rest of the journey.
The color blue, too
My desktop has nothing but blue. I search for blue wallpapers. I search for blue themes. I search for blue mouse pointers. When I find them, they quickly hit my computer without a question. I don’t know what it is about the color blue. It brings out the best of my creativity. It replenishes my soul. It gives me the feeling of nostalgia that I can’t get anywhere else.
Then there’s the feeling of blue. You know, feeling blue? I don’t feel it that often. I know it’s there. I know people feel it. I know it affects people in different ways. I just don’t feel it often. I don’t wish I could feel it either in order to relate to some folks. I suppose something unpleasant would have to happen for the feeling to come. For now, I’m thankful I can only go with what others have told me. Feeling blue is awful.
You know what? It’s never too late to see another color. Like I said, blue is not my favorite color. If you know me well enough you’ll probably figure out what my favorite color is. The fact of the matter is how can we enjoy our favorite color and enjoy the color blue without feeling we’ve betrayed our soul?
[Author’s note: I wrote this post more as a compositional challenge to prove that anyone can write about anything and still have fun doing it. Although I wrote about the color blue, I had the surprising revelation that certain shades of blue unlocked memories I’d forgotten I had. In other words, I even surprised myself.]
![Rainbow Rose [Photo Credit: In compliance with Wikipedia Common Licensing]](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rainbow_Rose_(3366550029).jpg)
![Bouquets of flowers [Photo Credit: In compliance with Wikipedia Common Licensing]](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Flowers_at_fruit_market_on_Queen_Street.jpg)
Looking to God 