Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead: Review

Sometimes it’s a good thing to watch a movie without any indication of what’s to come.  I didn’t do any research.  I didn’t even realize that Philip Seymour Hoffman was in the film.  I just kinda put it in my Netflix queue.  Watching the trailer would have probably ruined my experience.  And in that same spirit, this is probably going to be a different review in that I don’t want to reveal too much about the film.  Just know this: 1) It’s not for kids – even if kids are in the vicinity of where the film is being played, 2) It has incredible acting, and 3) It will depress you beyond belief.

This film isn’t short on big names – Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ethan Hawke, Marisa Tomei and Sidney Lumet (Dog Day Afternoon, Network and countless other gems) directs.  All of the actors – big parts and small parts – turn in incredible performances.  Of particular note is, of course, Hoffman.  It’s ridiculous how passionate this guy is… how he conveys volumes with no words.  But the other actors turn in great performances as well. 

The film reminds me of something Quentin Tarantino might have written and directed.  However, unlike a Tarantino film, this one is devoid of all fun.  That’s not to say this is a bad film.  Much to the contrary.  This is an interesting, visceral, complicated and difficult film.  The most I’ll say about the plot is that you have two somewhat average brothers who, through poor decisions and just a bad deal in life, are in a bad place.  So, they end up making more bad decisions.  And the further we go, the messier things get.

While this film isn’t particularly bloody or sensational, what made it so gripping was how real these situations could be.  New York was used as the backdrop, so I guess that made it that much more authentic to me.  But the situations that these characters find themselves in made me stop and wonder how I might handle them.  The film is the thread hanging from your jacket…and as you grab it to yank and break it, you realize that yanking it has only created a bigger piece of thread…and now you’re in too deep to go get a pair of scissors…so you yank harder… and before you realize it, half of your sleeve is gone.

If you’re in the least bit of a slump in life, maybe this one isn’t for you.  I watched this on July 4 – I had the day off, life felt pretty good.  And by the time it was done, I was walking around wondering why my life had so many loose threads.  No, it isn’t very self-revealing.  These are very odd situations and unless you really live on the edge, I’m sure you won’t be able to relate.  But there’s so much tension that by the time you’re done, you really have to go find your happy place.  It’s depressing as hell.

But as much as I felt depressed after watching the film, I must say that in this age of films that are little more than an extended version of the trailer, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is completely unpredictable.  I found that two hour runtime went by in what felt like an hour and a half, because I couldn’t tell quite where things were headed.  But just trust Sidney Lumet.  He knows where he’s taking you.

I don’t often talk about a film’s score (particularly a film of this kind), but it’s worth mentioning that the theme that plays throughout the film is extremely chilling.  It’s disturbing.  It sets the stage quite wonderfully for this completely atypical experience.

To say, “I enjoyed this film” would be almost morbid.  I decided to tolerate the film and I’m pretty happy that I made that decision.  This is certainly not a film I’d own.  But I do encourage anyone who’s up for a different experience and who doesn’t mind a bit of violence and complex adult situations on-screen to check this one out.  Probably the best acted film I’ve seen all year.  (In a year of countless super hero movies, that isn’t saying much, but you get the idea.)

I Dream of Kindle

I remember being a bit cynical last winter when Amazon announced their “revolutionary device” that would change the game.  As a tech enthusiast, I’m probably one of the folks that they should hope gets excited about this.  Then again, I’m not a big reader, so perhaps I’m not quite in the center of their bulls-eye.  When I first laid eyes on the Kindle, my exact thought was, “you’ve got to be kidding me”.  It really doesn’t say “2008”.  I’d argue that the Sony eBook Reader is a bit more sexy than a device where about a quarter of the precious real estate on the front of the device is dedicated to a physical keyboard.  (I know, I know – version 1.0).

Being the resident techie in most of my circles, it wasn’t long before the questions started… “what do you think about that new Amazon book thingy?”  “So when are you getting a Kindle?”  My answers were always pretty smug.  Don’t get me wrong.  I understood what Amazon was trying to do.  However, I thought they could have spent a little bit more time designing something that was lust-worthy instead of a device that looks like it was designed in 2000.

Time passed… and I had forgotten about the Kindle.  Regardless of how many times I’d go to Amazon.com and see the thing staring me in the face, my eyes would move somewhere else. 

But then a funny thing happened.  I stopped thinking about the design, and started thinking about the usability.

The time that I spent not paying attention to the Kindle caused me to miss out on the key selling points.  I would pick up random features listing to Leo Laporte’s TwiT podcasts.  And the more that I’d hear, the less cynical I got about the device…

Recently, (and I can’t quite explain how I’ve arrived at this…longing) I’ve been thinking a lot about the Kindle.  I don’t know if an Amazon guy spiked my iced tea or if they flashed a subliminal message while I was reading reviews on iPhone cases.  How it happened doesn’t really matter.  The fact is that I’m starting to see the advantages.  And I want in.

So what’s the big deal?

• I carry around two copies of the Holy Bible.  (Please don’t judge – sometimes I’ll need to reference the King James version and other times I just want to get closer to the intent via my Student Edition of the New International Version).  By no means is it a heavy burden.  But there might be a more elegant solution.  Perhaps there’s a way to keep that and several other versions of the scripture by my side.  Not to mention the hymn book that I’d like to carry, but because it’s rather big I always leave at home.  Yes, this could be the answer…and for several reasons…
• The Kindle is searchable.  Rather than wonder where in the book a character was introduced or when a certain thought was uttered, you can simply search through the text.  (How nicely that works is another matter altogether.)
• The Kindle is online.  Via EVDO (i.e. fast 3G speed Internet Access).  And it’s free.  (Well, you pay for the device, but they’ve committed to free online access.  Never before have I seen that kind of commitment to just giving away 3G access.  This is the stuff Verizon makes you pay $59 bucks a month for.  And yes, it’s only useful on the Kindle, but that’s not a tremendous limitation because…
• The Kindle has a built-in web browser.  OK, so I’ve heard that it’s so poor in displaying data and rendering pages that they might as well not have included it.  But this might be enough for me.  Many times when I’m traveling home on the bus or to work, I’d like to just pull down a full page of Engadget.com and just peruse the stories.  Nothing sexy.  Just stored.  Not sure if this is going to allow me to do that, but it might be better than the iPhone experience that I have now.  Most of the time, Safari will crash as I’m scrolling through a page like Engadget.  Also, until I get a 3G phone, it’s just a bit slow.  I don’t need a great web experience.  I just want to stay up to date while I’m driving.

Can we stop thinking of Senator Obama as “the Black guy who might be president”?

I had been kinda holding in my less popular political views for some time now – particularly those that pertain to people of color.  (I have a tremendous amount of respect for Bill Cosby and his accomplishments.  I think his indictment of Black fathers and whether our priorities as they pertain to education are probably the right message, but delivered in the wrong forum.)   I received an e-mail recently that sent me over the top.  In the e-mail were several animated images (GIFs) of popular Black actors dancing.  These are actors that you might see in sitcoms (George Jefferson from The Jeffersons, Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Whitney Houston had one from one of the many embarrassing moments in Being Bobby Brown.)  The subtext of the e-mail was that it was time to sing and shout because, “Obama got the ticket”.  (Meaning that he’s become the apparent Democratic candidate.)  And that was all I could take.

Please don’t misunderstand my sentiment.  I’ve been a fan of Senator Obama since reading a story about his life in a men’s magazine (it was either GQ or Men’s Health) a few years before the John Kerry endorsement speech.  And then when I heard him speak at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, I thought, “Whoa.  This is the guy who I might be able to get behind!  Let me stay tuned!”

Since that moment where he spoke so passionately at the DNC four years ago, he’s had a similar impact on many other people.  My dear friend at work (who happens to be of Korean descent) and I talk all the time during our much treasured lunches about the fact that he’s peaked our interest.  Very early in January, before Obama-mania hit, he went to a rally to hear more about his policies and where he stands on certain issues.  And despite my respect for Senator Clinton (although that respect has been tested over the past few months), I felt that Senator Obama represents a segment of the country who hasn’t been heard.  He represents a compassionate way of dealing with the problems that we’ve inherited.

All that said, please understand: I’m a huge Barack Obama fan and I anxiously look forward to his career, whether or not he becomes President of these United States.

So what’s so unsettling about this e-mail?

In a large part, I think it represents an apathy on the part of my people (people of color.)  Now, I do love my people and I have a tremendous amount of pride about where we’ve been and our road to citizenship in this country – including the part that it has played in allowing people from other ethnic backgrounds who are also dark in complexion to participate in our freedom.  But I’m starting to reconsider whether Bill Cosby’s tactics, as mean-spirited and as accusatory as they may have appeared, might not have been right on time (as Michael Eric Dyson debated in his book.)  The truth is that our priorities are completely in disarray.  I’m including myself in this indictment.  We often complain about not being business owners of the restaurants that we patronize or the business in which we shop, but we don’t seek the power through business ownership ourselves.

The Eyes of Ms. Welch

As part of my church fellowship, I serve as a deacon.  (Usually when I say that, it either elicits one of two responses: First, no response – as to comfortably ignore it, thinking about whether or not I’m judging every contrary word that’s been said before.  The other reaction is respect for the calling.)  Truthfully, I didn’t want to do it.  I’d be comfortable just sitting in the back row, doing whatever was required to make things easier on the fellowship.  Having entered into my second year (after three years of intense training), it is different than what I imagined it would be.  I attend meetings.  I try to avail myself for events.  I sit closer to the front of the church.  But overall, the responsibilities are far from overwhelming.  There is one area where my willingness is sometimes tested…

As part of the diaconate responsibilities, every month set aside a time to deliver communion to members of our fellowship who desire it but cannot physically come to church.  (For those who don’t know, communion as we practice it is very simply put this: we give bread and wine (usually a wafer and grape juice) as it is symbolic of the dinner before Christ’s sacrifice where he asked that we do this in remembrance of him.)

There is one lady that we visit who looks around forty-two years old or so.  She can’t speak, but she smiles so brightly when she sees us and through moans, we understand her feelings.  She can’t walk and you can tell that she isn’t quite in control of her muscular functions.  I don’t know what she suffers from, but her presence alone shames me for any time that I’ve ever felt ‘tired’ or ‘too busy’ to help out the fellowship.  Her ability to smile, as if she had just heard the sixth number called out in the lotto drawing and looked up from an arm attached to a hand holding the matching ticket, is a tribute to Christ’s desire for us to live more abundantly (regardless of our infirmities.)  She doesn’t get served communion, but our fellowshipping with her and singing makes her heart glad almost as much as it does ours.

There are a few others that have unfortunately become regulars.  One gentleman that we visit used to stand almost a foot taller than me when I used to see him in church services (and that’s not hard to do).  Now he stays in a veteran’s hospital and he’s lost his sight.  I remember how he played the harmonica for our congregation a few times.  Now he’s in a wheelchair — head hanging down as if it weighed a hundred pounds.  He probably doesn’t recognize my voice even though I took him home once.  What I notice most about seeing him unfortunately isn’t the man in the wheelchair himself.  The fact that he’s in a veteran’s hospital causes my mind to go back to all of the footage of Saving Private Ryan and other such movies as I pass the faces on the way to see him.  I wonder about what each man must have seen with eyes that gaze back at me as if to say, “If you only knew, son.  If you know knew.”  Most of them kind of smile and nod when you greet them in kind with a showing of the teeth.  But some are just staring off into the abyss.  Thankfully these men all appear to be living in the twilight of their lives.  However, I shudder to think that the average age of the men in those chairs will start to decrease if we continue on our current course as a nation.

The Incredible Hulk (2008) – Review

You know that super hero movies are on the rise when you get a complete ‘do-over’ re-cast version of the same super hero.  Well, maybe not exactly.  The 2003 release was entitled “The Hulk” and this film is “The Incredible Hulk”.  But there are several other differences.  If one really stretches the mind, they can envision this film being a sequel of the first, only with a different cast.  This iteration does not re-tell the origin of the Hulk – only shows flashes of it during the opening credit sequence and during flashbacks that Bruce Banner (the Hulk’s alter-ego) has during the film.  I choose not to believe that this is a sequel – well, because it isn’t.  They just chose to focus on more than the origin of the character.

Let me interject before diving into the review that I actually liked the first Hulk film.  I didn’t love it.  If I were forced to give it a rating, it wouldn’t get more than a 6.5 out of 10 or 2.5 out of 4 stars.  It got ridiculously wild at the end of the film (Nick Nolte – ugh) and it wasn’t exactly the most engaging cinema experience (I think we waited almost an hour into the film to see the first appearance of the Hulk.  However, I felt that it was an accurate depiction of the character that I loved as a kid.  And not just the damn television show.  One thing I did agree about was the fact that Eric Bana wasn’t right for the role.  I don’t believe the casting had to go as far to the right as this 2008 iteration did and get a huge star like Edward Norton, but I thought that even an unknown has to be more engaging and has to have a much greater on-screen presence than Bana.

Edward Norton stars as Bruce Banner and he does a fair job of portraying the role.  He’s certainly more likeable than Bana, but I don’t know why I felt that the Banner character should be more believable as a scientist.  Norton works in this role, and he’s someone I enjoy watching.  I just don’t know if he was the best choice.  But he does add believability to the story.

The Happening – Review (Spoiler Free)

Say what you will about M. Night Shyamalan, but few can question the impact that he’s had over the past ten years in the genre of suspense films.  I’m not even that big a fan of The Sixth Sense, but rarely will you come across a person who has seen the film and who doesn’t have some polarizing reaction to the film.  Sadly, the most common reaction I come across are from people who want to debate when they ‘figured out’ the big reveal of the movie.  Ironically, it’s this unfortunate angle that has Shyamalan painted in a corner.  He followed up TSS with Unbreakable, and then my favorite Night movie, Signs. Although The Village received a lukewarm reception, I feel as if people are really missing the most entertaining aspect of an M. Night Shyamalan film.  While most people are trying to play mental chess with the movie and searching for clues and answers, the best part of these films, regardless of how clever (or not) the ending may be is the suspense that he’s able to generate.  And while The Happening is probably one of his weakest films plot-wise, it manages to keep it’s audience engaged and in suspense from the opening credits until the closing curtain

The Happening stars Mark Wahlberg as a New York high school science teacher who, along with the rest of the world, learns that there has been a supposed “chemical terrorist attack” in Central Park.  Wahlberg’s character (who’s name is Elliot Moore, but the fact that I had to look it up on imdb.com should tell you how memorable it was) along with his wife and teaching colleague (played by John Leguizamo) decide to make their way as far from the Northeast (where the ‘attacks’ seem to be concentrated) are taking place.  And honestly, this is all you need to know to understand what you’re getting into.  To tell anything more would be to ruin the best (and only redeeming) part of the film – the discovery.

Grey’s Anatomy Season 4 Finale: Thoughts (I Still Like Rose….)

I had really high hopes heading into the Grey’s season finale last week.  While there are some questions that have been raised, ultimately I walked away a little disappointed.  The writer’s had given us such incredible ways to end each of the past three seasons.  (SPOILERS AHEAD if you plan on going back to watch.)  The clumsy way that Meredith met Addison to end the inaugural season.  The painful way that Izzie’s carried off after losing Denny, leading to all sorts of questions about her career.  And the third season, for me, gave us the ultimate in closure with the wedding break up, Alex being abandoned and so many other satisfying details.  I was expecting the same this season.  And while they can’t all be like last season’s finale, I wanted more.  Maybe the strike-shortened season is to blame.

I’m actually a little frustrated with the directions that everyone seems to be headed in… Just a few random thoughts…

• I once was ready to play my guitar outside of Callie Torres’ window.  (I guess that will never be now.)  But beyond my own personal hangup, I just kinda don’t get it.  I respect the writers for having characters that reflect folks that we live and love everyday.  But this just seems strange.  One minute she was begging Sloan to come in the closet and now…. I just need to see the way that this plays out.  Perhaps she was hiding the attraction?  Obviously that’s what the writers are hinting at, but they didn’t seem to go down this course until very late in the season.  Perhaps I’m reading into this too deeply, but one thing we do know about Callie is that she’s unstable.  She lived inside the stock closet.  She fell for George and took part in the mistake that was their marriage.  She started looking to Sloan and now this.  Perhaps the book isn’t closed.  And I hope it isn’t because…

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• …I can’t take Erica Hahn.  The attitude.  The snide comments.  The weird expressions.  She just bugs the hell out of me.  She’s one of those people that you see in the airport and want to slap because they remind you of everything that frustrates you about the show.  But in that way, she’s done her job — good actress.  I just don’t like the character.  And for her to kinda get the payoff in this episode was kinda unfulfilling.  I don’t wanna see her drown, but she just doesn’t seem to deserve to “go home happy”.  The chief made me proud when he carefully yet sternly told her how she might want to reconsider her approach.  I’d have preferred a slap from Christina.  (Kidding.)

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• George and Lexie.  I just don’t like it.  Lexie’s nice, but she needs someone else.  She needs another intern.  George has matured so much over the course of the show.  Lexie would be the “right now” girl…. again.  I hope this doesn’t come to pass.  It’s a step backwards for him and it certainly doesn’t help his reputation.  (I guess I didn’t get the theme of the episode: don’t care about what people think.  Yes… I got it.  You practically hit us over the head with it.) I still don’t like the pairing.  If he thought there was no chemistry with Izzie….

Grey’s Anatomy… still amazing

I stayed away. It had been awhile since Grey’s Anatomy went on hiatus due to the actor’s strike and, well…. I stayed away. At first, it was tough. Grey’s was that moment of tenderness (albeit artificial) in an otherwise hardened hustle-and-bustle New York City workweek. But after weeks of not watching, it became easier to reflect on what the show had already given me than to venture into anything new it had to offer.

Since the last new episode of the show earlier this year, I became a Tivo subscriber. The funny thing about Tivo is the more than you accumulate in content, season passes and those beloved ‘Tivo Suggestions’, the more than you don’t casually browse through channels. (You know, like real people do.) And so it was only after having seen a snippet of Meredith Grey at the beginning of my scheduled Lost recording did I realize that it was the third episode since the show returned with new content — and that I had neglected to start a season pass.

For a moment, I even considered just kinda sitting it out. Maybe I’d let the shows accumulate and if I felt the urge, I’d download them in a season and just start watching again. Or maybe not. Being away from the folks at Seattle Grace made me forget what made the show such a wonderful part of the week.

Strangely, I’d heard rumors that the show wasn’t doing well in the ratings anymore. There was talk that they’d even resorted to trying to use Isaish Washington’s likeness to try and bring the ratings up. (All lies, by the way.) Oddly enough, it was the rumor that the show wasn’t churning out ‘greatness’ anymore that made me curious. And so I thought now was as good a time as any. And with that, I downloaded the first three new episodes since March.

Shame on me for staying away.

Only One Thing Left To Do: Turn John Cena Heel

About a year ago, I wrote a post entitled, “Keep Your Head Up, Cena”.  I’m not the biggest John Cena fan in the world.  Not by a long shot.  But as cliche’ as it sounds, I have a tremendous amount of respect for him.  He respects the sport.  He has explosive energy.  I was truly amazed and inspired when he came back after major shoulder surgery in considerably less time than was predicted and seemed to be in the best shape that I’d ever seen him in.  He’s young, good-looking, smart — he would seem to be the champion that wrestling fans could really mark out for big time.

So why then are we booing him out of the building?  (I say “we”, because I’m just as guilty as everyone else.)  I don’t like Cena.

Since I wrote the post, I’ve been trying to make sense of the “Cena hate” that seems to have followed him throughout every arena in every live WWE taping.  It’s funny — I watched Raw a few weeks back and it opened with an interesting experiment.  The show opened with three simple head-shots of the three main title contenders at Wrestlemania: Randy Orton, HHH and Cena.  With nothing but a camera pointed and closed in on their faces, the show began with the first shot — HHH.  Total face pop.  The fans went crazy.  Then the camera pans to Randy Orton — as you would expect, classic heel heat.  But then the camera pans to John Cena…  I’d like to say the reaction was “mixed”.  Maybe it’s that the males are drowning out the females.  But whatever the reason, they just kicked in a boo about as loud and as passionate as I heard for Orton.

It’s amazing to think back to all of the guys that we cheer and all of the reasons that they’ve given us NOT to do so.  We love HHH — yet he’s probably the guy who has railroaded more guys from getting the top spot as a McMahon-by-marriage than anyone else.  We love Ric Flair — but this is the same guy who was part of the crew that held down Steve Austin and so many others in Georgia.  We cheer for Shawn Michaels — despite his involvement in the biggest shoot ever captured on live TV - the Montreal Screw Job.  (”Shawn were you in on this?” “No Bret, my hands are clean of this one, I swear!”)  And hey, I love the guy too.  He might be the only reason why I’m thinking of watching Wrestlemania.  And the list goes on… so many guys who get the glory despite a record less deserving of applause.

So what is it about John Cena that’s so bad?

The Missing Grave

A few Saturdays ago, I mapped out a path around town to take care of some errands.  You know, the usual stuff.  A suit that requires “Dry Cleaning Only”.  The tape dispenser that I’ve been meaning to refill.  The paper towels that are on sale.  But I also made a stop that I hadn’t quite planned to make.

My car inspection has been due for some time.  I should have really taken care of it first, but being the free spirit that I am, it kinda didn’t feel like I should rush — that is, until I waited until three in the afternoon and went to three gas stations — each one saying that they either didn’t do inspections or that it was too late.  I kept looking around for about an hour.  It was a pretty dreary, foggy day, but it was still bright enough to be considered ‘daytime’.  As I drove around, I had a strange urge to take a turn that I normally wouldn’t take.  And then, all at once, I realized why that urge came.  My father’s grave.

I usually don’t like to share this with people, but my father passed away when I was only two months old.  I came on February 8…. he was called home on April 6.  Two months.  Fifty seven days.  Not a lot of time to do a lot of bonding.  I never really spent much time feeling bad or deprived for it.  For one, it’s hard to miss something you never really had the opportunity to know.  And more than that, God has filled my life with so many men who have stepped in — for however brief a moment in my life — and taken the baton and then passed it to the next man….and so on.  I never felt as if I had been deserted.  But I think one can’t help but wonder about some things.  Strangely, my mind always goes to the finer details that I’ll never know.  How did he speak?  Was his voice as high as mine?  Did he hate meatloaf too?  What pissed him off?  What made him cry?  What was his favorite cereal?

As I drove by the grave (and almost drove past it), I had a strange feeling suddenly come over me.  Normally I would have used this as an opportunity to procrastinate.  There’s plenty of time…. you need to get your car inspected.  It’s late.  It’s rainy.  The sun is going down soon.  Just come back some other day.  But I couldn’t.  You see, it had probably been close to thirty years since my last trip there.  We didn’t make a lot of trips to the grave.  Too many bad memories.  ‘Why keep bringing him here?  Better to focus on the future,’ I’m sure she thought.  But somehow, I got the strange feeling that this was the time and today was the day.  And with that, I eased my foot on the brake pedal, made a turn and a half of the wheel towards the right, and drove through the cobblestone columns.

When I pulled in, the first thing I noticed was how alone I was.  I expected to see at least one other car.  Maybe a family standing around a freshly topped grave, sharing fond thoughts.  Or maybe a buddy drinking a Heineken and slurring thoughts of old times as he drank and poured equal amounts of beer into the ground and himself.  But there wasn’t a soul nearby.  And there wouldn’t be a soul for the next two hours while I was there.  Yep — I was in this one all alone.

On top of the solitude, it was a pretty foggy day.  Eerily foggy.  But I seemed to be too focused on the task at hand to feel fear.  I decided to take some images to document the visit.

As I said, it had been about thirty years since I had last visited the grave.  These are the times in your childhood that you try to forget.  The way that they try to steal a glimpse of your face.  Trying to detect a hint of sorrow from a child who’s not quite old enough to understand the finality of death — much less the fact that his paternal history has taken residence in another world.  And so, I’d just try to get through those visits.  We’d only been there about four times — I’d say six, tops.  I barely remembered the general area where we visited.  As I drove up to the general area where I thought he was, I realized how cold it started to get.  About forty-one degrees according to the indicator on my dashboard.  But I didn’t reach for the spare hat in my glove compartment.  No — this is a trip that I’d have to make, sans-comfort.

Not visiting the grave for close to thirty years has filled me with a huge degree of guilt.  And walking past the other graves, as I searched for my place to reflect, didn’t help alleviate that sense of regret much.  As I surveyed the rows of the ‘dearly departed’, I found myself feeling the most sorrow for the headstones that spanned such a short period of time.  1987-1998.  Wow.  And then I felt sadness at the fresh graves of folks that had just been laid to rest.  I began to notice the older graves and that gave the place a sense of perspective…. there were graves that had spanned as far back as the 1800s.  You had just about two decades covered here.  But as I moved through the cemetery, there was one thing that I began to realize wasn’t covered here — the location of my father’s grave.