Chanified

Why, oh why, do I like Jackie Chan movies so much?

I don’t know.

I just do.

They aren’t, technically speaking, good movies. I know that. I know a good movie when I see one. Jackie Chan movies don’t particularly qualify.

But I don’t care. I like them. Mostly because Jackie Chan is in them. And that’s all that seems to matter. The movie itself doesn’t have to be all that “good.”

Besides. I like lots of things that aren’t what you might call “good.” Which doesn’t exclude liking things that are good. I think it’s important to know the difference, but why be a snob about it? What good is that?

I like good coffee. I know good coffee. I drink good coffee. Most of the time. And I don’t understand why people drink bad coffee all the time and think that it’s good. That is a mystery to me. But, occasionally, I specifically, on purpose, have a mug of crappy, instant coffee. I couldn’t drink it all the time. It’s not really even coffee. I don’t know what it is. But, sometimes, I drink it for what it is. I make it really strong, and I like it.

Same kind of thing: I like good movies. I know a good movie from a bad one. Just like there are good novels and bad ones, there are good movies and bad ones. And everything in between. The point is, I know what makes Citizen Kane “good.” Lawrence of Arabia is my ultimate, all time favorite movie. Very few modern films come even close to the artistry of such films. They are, in every sense of the word, "art." They are masterpieces. The word “art” genuinely does apply to some movies and a lot of other things, and we can miss out, big time, if we don’t learn to appreciate the art of things.

But, occasionally, I’ll watch a Jackie Chan movie. And enjoy it.

Why?

Just. Because.



Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Liking Lime and the Cole Slaw Incident

Suddenly I liked lime.

For years I would not have even thought about eating something flavored with limes. I might drink some lime soda/pop something or other. Lemon lime whatsit. But Key Lime Pie seemed gross somehow. And lime ice cream? Yecchhhh.

But then one day, suddenly, for no apparent reason, I thought, I’d like some lime juice in the house. So I bought some. I tried it in some marinade for chicken. It was incredible. I tried a piece of Key Lime Pie. It was great.

Suddenly I liked lime.

This was different than the Coleslaw Incident, as we think of it around here. The Coleslaw Incident went down like this:

The wife and I were in a town called Frankenmuth. It’s referred to as “Michigan’s Little Bavaria,” a little town full of shops and some restaurants that people like to go to for the weekend. We were eating at this big restaurant called Zehnder’s, where they serve a great meal with all these courses of breads and sides and chicken and whatnot. Well, one of the sides is this very creamy looking, large cut coleslaw. They would bring it to the table and my wife would eat it and keep talking about how good it was, but I didn’t eat any because I hated coleslaw.

Hated it. Seriously.

Yes, I had tried it. I had tasted it. And it was nasty, at least to me. But as I watched my wife enjoy that coleslaw, it started me thinking that maybe I was missing out on something. So I spooned a little onto my plate, which caused her to stare in disbelief because she knew how I felt about the slaw. But I just looked at it for a second or two and I said to her, “I’m going to teach myself to like this stuff.”

She laughed at me. That happens a lot.

“Seriously,” I said. “I’m going to train myself to like it.” So I ate that little bit on my plate. It was bitter. Slimy and yet rough. But I ate it. A few weeks later, at my mom’s house, I ate a little more. I didn’t give up. And it took about a year. A little here. A little there. But now, I like it. I DO like cole slaw Sam I Am.

And limes.

Some things are a gift. Some things take work.



Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2010