3D or not to D

I saw “Gravity” in 3D on Saturday night with one of my BFFs, having just seen it the night before with my son. How that came about was my perfectly boneheaded move after a long day’s work, click-buying too fast without reading the small print, aided by some less than stellar user navigation by Moviefone.com, but Spencer and I found ourselves headed to the 2D version of Alfonso Cuarón’s space opera, “Gravity” on Friday instead of the 3D version we really wanted to see.

Once I realized that the tickets were non-refundable, we each made our own flavor of lemonade if you catch the drift. Spencer, who is prone to vertigo, thought the 2D version might be safer and I told myself that this would be the perfect acid test of whether the film was worth seeing twice, simply to resolve whether Real 3D is integral to the storyline or just a gimmick.

To be sure, the film is stunning in standard format 2D. We thoroughly enjoyed it. But by the end of my viewing, I had no doubt I needed to see it again to test the question. When I asked my 13 year old if he felt the same way, he said he did, but I could tell from the lack of commitment in his voice that he didn’t really share the same zeal I did.

Where’s the race?

Being-“white-ever” in Philadelphia—another take

Philadelphia Magazine, recently tweaked as the "urban magazine with suburban sensibilities" has an article that attempts to tell the untold story about race relations in Philadelphia. It's disappointing to say the least. The gist of the article is that blacks have so co-opted discussions about race that white people are afraid to say anything. I have something to say.

I think it has everything to do with where you live, how you live and how you were raised. I actually live in Fairmount where the author said he's spent time, so I've heard many of the same types of stories he relates. I don't find them shocking, because I've been hearing these "scary stories" all my life from people who usually seem to have an agenda for telling them. Here's a story that the author might find shocking. One of my neighbors, not much older than me, once told his teen daughter that if she ever brought a n**** into his house, he'd kill them both. The daughter sometimes uses the n-word in her conversations, but less so, particularly as her own daughter's best friend is mixed-race African American. Major shift, in only two generations.

Camera Test

My father, the photographer, has been dead for nearly four years. Nonetheless, since Dad loved nothing more than taking a new camera out for spin, inviting him to “come with” to field-test my newest purchase seemed a natural thing to do.