THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT movie script excerpt RELEVANT TODAY! Part 2 of 2

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT movie script excerpt  RELEVANT TODAY!

continued . . .  Part 2 of 2

ANGLE -- ROBIN

Who's picked up the receiver from a wall phone and punches in four numbers.

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT     12/15/94                                                       146.

She turns into the wall to shield her conversation from the rest of the room.

ROBIN

(into the phone)

Lewis . . . call A.J. and come on down here . . .

I don't know, but something's happening.

SHEPHERD

. . . and although I have not been willing to engage 

in his attacks on me, I've been here three years and

three days, and I can tell you without hesitation:  

Being President of this country is entirely about 

character. 

LEWIS enters with A.J. and KODAK.

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

For the record:  Yes, I am a card-carrying member

of the A.C.L.U.  But the more important question

is why aren't you, Bob?  This is an organization 

whose sole purpose is to defend the Bill of Rights,

so it naturally begs the question.

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT     12/23/94                                                       147.

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

Why would a senator, his party's most powerful

spokesman and a candidate for president, chose

to reject upholding the Constitution?  If you can

answer that question, then, folks, you are smarter

than I am, because I didn't understand until a few

minutes ago.  Everybody knows American isn't 

easy.  America is advanced citizenship.

Xx

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

You gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up

a fight.  Its gonna say, "You want free speech?

Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words

make your blood boil, who's standing center stage

and advocating, at the top of his lungs, that which

you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of 

yours.  You want to claim this land as the land of

the free, then the symbol of your country can't 

just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its

citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in 

protest."  Show me that, defend that, celebrate

that in your classrooms.  Then you can stand up 

and sing about the land of the free.  I've known

Bob Rumson for years.  I've been operating under

the assumption that the reason Bob devotes so

much time and energy shouting at the rain was 

that he simply didn't get it.  Well, I was wrong.

Xx

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

Bob's problem isn't that he doesn't get it.  Bob's

problem is that he can't sell it.  Nobody ever wonl

an election by talking about what I was just talking

about.

(more)

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT    1/12/95                                                          148*.

SHEPHERD (cont'd)

This is a country made up of people with hard

jobs that they're terrified of losing.  The roots 

of freedom are of little or no interest to them at

the moment.  We are a nation afraid to go out

at night.  We're a society that has assigned low

priority to education and has looked the other

way while our public schools have been decimated.

We have serious problems to solve, and we need

serious (women and )men to solve them.  And whatever 

your particular problem is, friends, I promise you, Bob

Rumson is not the least bit interested in solving it.

He is interested in two things and two things only:

Making you afraid of it and telling you who's to

blame for it.  That, ladies and gentlemen, is how

you win elections.  You gather a group of middle-

aged, middle class, middle-income voters who 

remember with longing an easier time, and you

talk to them about family and American values

and personal character.  Then you wave an old

photo of the President's girlfriend.  You scream

about patriotism and you tell them she's to blame

for their lot in life, you go on television and you

call her a whore.  Sydney Ellen Wade has done

nothing but put herself through law school, 

prosecute criminals for five years, represent

the interests of public school teachers for two 

years, and lobby for the safety of our natural

resources.

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

You want a character debate?  Fine, but you better

stick to me, 'cause Sydney Ellen Wade is way out 

of your league.  I've loved two women in my life

I lost one to cancer, and I lost the other 'cause I

was so busy keeping my job I forgot to do my job.

Well that ends right now.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
*(women) was added by me

Although the specific situation around SHEPHERD'S speech is not relevant given he's already the President and running for re-election, but his words ring so true regarding the Bob Rumson 'character' as it relates to today's candidate.
Where are the President Shepherds of the world that actually give a damn about We The People instead of those who put their personal agenda based on ego and lies that we see today ahead of the American public?

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT movie script excerpt - RELEVANT TODAY! Part 1 of 2

The brilliant Aaron Sorkin wrote the script for the movie THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT which came out at the theaters November 1995.  I find that there is a section of this movie/script that is just as relevant now as when he originally wrote those words.  I will be publishing this excerpt in three parts.  It is not in the exact script format but the words are what matter most.

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT; Aaron Sorkin

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT  12/15/94                                                               143.

LUCY

I mean, it really bothers a lot of people, and I 

don't know why you think it's okay.  I hear 

Senator Rumson talk, and some of the things he 

says sound right to me, and I think "God, am

I like Bob Rumson?!  I mean, Dad thinks he's a jerk.  

Dad hates this guy!  Why am I agreeing with him?"

And then I think, "Well, maybe I'm not like Dad 

either."  But the point is I'm the President's kid, 

and people pay attention to what I say, and if I say 

something different from what you say, it'll be

embarrassing for you.  So I can't just get up in

social studies class and say whatever I want.

SHEPHERD is silent ... totally blown away ... he had absolutely no idea . . .

He stands up slowly and moves toward her . . . LUCY doesn't know what's coming . . .

SHEPHERD

(quietly)

Stand up please.

LUCY gets up slowly . . .

She's never seen her father like this . . .

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

I want you to pay very close attention to what

happens now.

SHEPHERD kneels down, cups his daughter's face in his hands, and gently kisses her forehead.  He pulls her to him and holds her in a tight embrace . . .

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

In your lifetime, you will never embarrass me. 

It could never happen.  You're not the President's

daughter, Lucy; you're mine.  And no one's gonna

vote me out of that job.  You're my daughter, and

everything else is a distant second.

(more)

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT     1/11/95                                                                      144.

SHEPHERD (cont'd)

School is for you, Lucy.  You say what you

want.  The only thing you have to do to make

make me happy is come home at the end of

the day.

LUCY squeezes her dad tight . . . they hold the embrace for a long moment.

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

One more thing.  I don't dislike Senator

Rumson because of his political views.  And

even if you voted for everything he would vote 

for that wouldn't make you like him.  There's a

There's a fundamental difference between you

and the Bob Rumsons of the world.

LUCY

What's that?

SHEPHERD

The difference is that he says he loves America.

Saying you love America is easy.  What takes

character -- and this is what you have -- 

SHEPHERD trails off, realizing he's about to quote Sydney . . .

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

What takes character is loving Americans.

(beat)

And now its as if SHEPHERD is waking himself up from the longest nap of his life . . .

. . . he looks over at the T.V. monitor . . . "No comment" . . . "No, I don't know how many other ways I can say it.  The White House isn't getting involved in . . ."

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

Luce, I gotta go.

LUCY

Dad, is everything all right?

THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT     1/3/95                                                           145***

 SHEPHERD (cont'd)

Everything's fine.  I'm just a little late for work.

He heads for the door, shouting out as he goes --

SHEPHERD

(continuing)

Somebody get my daughter some food!  The girl's

from Wisconsin, for cryin' out loud!

And he's gone as we . . .

                                                                                                                CUT TO:

110   INT. THE PRESS BRIEFING ROOM -- EARLY MORNING               110

ROBIN is on her last drops of energy and patience.

REPORTER #4

Robin, will the President ever respond to 

Senator Rumson's question about being a 

member of the American Civil Liberties Union? 

But instead of hands going up, the PRESS CORPS suddenly stands.  ROBIN turns to see SHEPHERD stride in and step up to the podium.

SHEPHERD

Yes, he will.  "Morning.

ROBIN

Good morning, Mr. President.

SHEPHERD takes the podium.  There's a palpable BUZZ in the room as video operators adjust their equipment, etc.  People start to stand.

SHEPHERD

That's all right, you can keep your seats.

For the last couple of months, Senator Rumson

has suggested that being president of this 

country was, to a certain extent, about character . . .

Part 2 coming shortly . . .

Eulogy for Mom

In Memory of My Mother, Marie

As a child when I was upset, crying, she would sit me on her lap in the rocking chair, holding me as she rocked, singing softly, "You Are My Sunshine."  This is my most precious childhood memory of her.

Most of my adult life has been spent living out of state from her.  During that time she was busy trying to support herself after spending most of her life as a housewife and mother.  With no real work experience or knowing how to be on her own, she managed to become self-sufficient, independent woman.  A remarkable feat or her age and upbringing.

She had a knack finding unusual gifts that were a perfect fit both personally and functionally.  At first, I thought them odd then they turned out to be exactly what I needed.

In conversation, she would unexpectedly surprise me with profound and wise advice. Pretty remarkable for someone who spent little time out in the world.

She never visited anyone empty-handed, didn't have a mean bone in her body and was often taken advantage of but never held a grudge.  She spent a lot of time keeping records of everyone's birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and special occasions and never forgot to send a card to honor them and let them know she was thinking of them.

The things that drove me nuts about her, as the years progressed become endearing traits that I could laugh about.  Have you ever been a passenger in the car with her?  Then you know what I mean.

About this time a few years back, she fell down the basement stairs suffering a severe head injury and we almost lost her.  I was on my way to visit her for the holidays when it happened and ended up extending my visit several more weeks to help her while she recovered.  I am grateful for that time.  It brought me closer to her than I'd ever been before.

Carol was the rock who took care of the day to day needs and caring for Mom, which was quite a time consuming responsibility -- and was consistently there for her right to the end.  I know Mom is extremely grateful for all she did for her and had mentioned it to me from time to time.

When you see your parents age, and you observe the circle of life -- parents, siblings, their children, their children's children, it really is something to behold.  Family is precious.

Mom may not have been the June Cleaver type, but she was loving, caring and supportive, often in ways that weren't so obvious -- in her own way.  She was funny and fun-loving.

During our many calls over the last several years, I'd ask her how she felt and she replied, "with my hands."  Cracked me up because it was so unexpected and her delivery was like a seasoned comedian.  She was one of a kind and every time I spoke to her it was a gift.

She has been through so much, especially when it came to physical injuries.  We all know she has a hard head!  She lived her life in her own way and always rose to the occasion when meeting a challenge.  She paid more attention to details than the big picture and that too was her way.

I believe when she passed, her mother, Angela, was there to take her hand.

Now she can see and hear perfectly, dance and sing as she loved to do and be in perfect health.  

She'll spend her time playing bingo, doing crafts like making those crazy topiary trees, take in some bowling (think of her when you hear thunder, she just bowled a strike), followed by a hot fudge sundae.  

Maybe she'll bake her specialties -- German Chocolate Cake from scratch and that yummy Tunnel of Fudge Cake or some Christmas cookies with Aunt Yolanda.   Don't forget that jello concoction that was a must at all events which took her hours to assemble.  There's always room for jello.

She will have no trouble staying up all night, watching old movies and talking about their stars and writing for hours on little slips of paper.  In hind sight, I wish I had the chance to go through her writings because they represented what she felt was important enough to her to document.  To the average person they may have been nonsense scribbling, but as a writer, I can see the value in them.  They could be the basis of inspiration for a book or script and  become a runaway hit.  As a daughter, they would have been a window into the human being my mother was.

I love her dearly.   At the end of our telephone conversations we had a little ritual where we said good night and goodbye in Italian and French then I would say, "I love you Mom" and she would reply, "I love you more."   It warmed my heart and I felt the love she was sending me as she said it. 

I will surely miss her voice saying that to me, her sense of humor and her presence here on Earth.

But we will continue to hang out in my dreams where all things are possible.

I love you more, Mom.  God bless you and keep you safe.

I HAVE IT ALL (poem)

              TO SEE WITHOUT EYES

                    TO HEAR WITHOUT WORDS

              TO WRITE WITHOUT PAPER

                    TO BE WITHOUT A PLACE TO BE

               I GLIDE THROUGH LIFE

                     KNOWING I NEED

               NO EYES, NO WORDS,

                     NO PAPER OR PARTICULAR PLACE

                I AM

                      I SEE
                            I HEAR
                                  I KNOW

                ALL IS WITHIN

                      ALL I NEED I HAVE

                 I HAVE IT ALL

                                                              By Nancy Caldwell

Once upon a time . . .

     Once upon a time, there was a quiet young girl who was afraid of everything -- people, going places, doing new things, change, the dark, not being accepted/liked, being made fun of, and most of all, she was afraid of herself. 

     She spent a great part of her life trying to figure out what made her tick .. why she would react a certain way, why she liked certain things and why she was so afraid.  Although once in a while she was able to gather courage and do adventurous things, she remained afraid.  She was afraid of not being good enough, of having initial success then be unable to sustain it, of being noticed then considered a fraud, of not having money to live in a comfortable way.  So she took jobs she knew she could do, strictly for the money.  Although they rarely turned out to be fulfilling, she put her heart and soul into them, leaving little time or energy for the things she loved.

     As she got older and wiser, she found people she could trust and supported her.  She felt loved and returned the love but nothing seemed to give her the kick to remove the fear and go for what she really loved to do, what she was passionate about.  Instead, she saw it as a distant possibility.  It was safer that way -- seeing it in the distance from a safe place.

     One day, she realized her life has been on hold for far too long and it was time to push herself into action.  She made calls, created business cards, handed them out to different businesses and to people she knew who might be interested in her services.  The orders came in quicker than expected.  She got a break and the money was enough to allow her to quit her secure job and follow her passion.  She was terrified but kept pushing forward, not allowing herself to look back at what she left behind.  As a result, she was able to make her passion her career and means of support.  Her life opened up in ways she always hoped for but thought impossible to have.  Friends and family cheered her on and she blossomed beyond her imagination and achieved many goals she had set long ago along with new, more amazing ones.  Life is good for her.

Street bum, angel or . . .

Detroit, Michigan; Summer of 1981. I was with two of my long time friends at the local bar where our favorite band plays mosts weekends. We are regulars there. I ordered a coke and both of my friends were appalled and demanded I purchase a real drink. What would people say if they knew I wasn't drinking. My reply was, who cares, people can think its rum and coke. What difference does it make. They insisted on buying me a real drink but I declined. I was getting tired of their discussions about me as if I wasn't there hearing them passing judgment.

A guy came up to the table and asked me to dance. He had an afro, wore a long coat, rumpled clothes and looked like a bum. His voice was soft despite his appearance. I had a feeling this guy was someone special and my thoughts jumped to the Good Samaritan story. There was absolutely no hesitation, I said yes. He helped me out of my chair and I led the way to the dance floor.

I started dancing when I was three years old and throughout my childhood I performed in dance recitals, talent shows, in hospitals and retirement homes. When I wasn't performing I was taking dance classes or practicing. I love to dance.

It has been my experience that most guys don't dance well and I usually lead on the slow ones. So I was doing my thing on the dance floor when I looked over at my partner and realized this guy is nothing short of an amazing dancer with moves I've never seen before (and I went out dancing a lot!). I was excited to find someone to challenge me so stepped up my moves. Who was this guy and how lucky was I to be dancing with him?

The song ended and I hoped we would stay for another but he walked me back to my table, thanked me for the dance with a slight bow then disappeared. My exhilaration turned to disappointment. It was too fast. We didn't even talk. I wanted more.

My reverie was cut dramatically short when both of my friends took turns reprimanding me for not only dancing with a bum but a bum who was Black: "What was I thinking anyway? I should stick to my own kind. Didn't I notice his flapping shoes?" They told me it was embarassing for them to be with me. I thought who are these people I thought were my friends? We are so very different now and I no longer seem to have anything in common with them anymore.

I have often thought about that evening throughout my life -- sometimes because of my now ex-friends' behavior toward my choices in drink and my dance partner. Mostly I think about the fact that whoever I danced with that night was someone special. It was obvious the guy was in disguise and I wondered why he would do that. Was it God testing my ability to accept people as they are and not to judge? I believe that was the case. The guy didn't smell like a street person at all. Although his clothes were worn and rumpled, they were clean. I never even noticed his floppy shoes. And you have to get past a bouncer and show your ID to get in to the place and they didn't have a problem with him. I felt very safe with this person. His energy was magnetic and he had manners far better than most guys who ask me to dance. I really wish the experience lasted longer. It was a highlight in my life that I have returned to many, many times since and wondered who this person was and why it happened.

Cut to July 7, 2009, Staples Center; Los Angeles, California - Michael Jackson's Memorial.
His brother, Marlon, is on stage relating a story about this guy he saw in a record store. He described him as dressed in rumpled clothes, an afro ..... I froze. He was describing the man I danced with that night in Detroit so many years earlier. He continued his story ... "So I said, Hi Mike, what are you doing here?" In that moment I had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that I had danced with Michael Jackson!!!

I told myself it was crazy, what would Michael even be doing in Detroit? Then I found out he was on his Triumph Tour at that time and one of his stops was Detroit. They probably performed at Cobo Hall which was an easy drive to the club. It was possible. Later I saw a picture of Michael dancing with Tatum O'Neal where he was in mid-move -- that distinct move. He also does it in the Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough video where first there is one of him doing it, then two and finally three. He leans back a certain way with his leg in a specific position. That was the move I saw across from me on the dance floor back in Detroit.

Now that I know it was him, I wish more than ever we had danced longer, exchanged a few words, or might have revealed himself. That evening when I left the club, feeling a bit down from the treatment from my so-called friends, and the all too short time with the mystery dancer, the bouncer made an odd comment to me that made no sense at the time. I remember this because he rarely spoke to me beyond "ID please" and "go on in" but whatever he said was something about my dancing that lifted my spirits a little even though it was cryptic. Now, knowing who I danced with that night, he must have commented about me dancing with Michael without coming right out and saying it given MJ's desire to be in disguise. He had to have known since he check's everyone's ID in this small place and had a bird's eye view of the action, including the dance floor.

I don't know why I chose not to have alcohol that evening but I think none of this would have happened if I had, especially now knowing that at that time, Michael did not drink. No matter how short the moment or that I didn't know who I was with at that time, it was already a standout experience in my memory. Now it is something I will be eternally grateful for having in my life. It fits with the message he told repeatedly: it doesn't matter what we look like, we are all a part of each other. Don't judge, accept and above all L.O.V.E.

The Most Beautiful Mandala I've Made So Far

Mandalas are playing a bigger and bigger role in my life lately as I prepare to facilitate workshops to show others how to create their own mandalas.

As a tribute to a dear friend who passed away, I created this mandala, representing their life on earth and presented it to their family as a gift of love and healing energy for them in their time of loss. It's the only mandala I've made of somone not physically alive. This person has changed my life in a way I never expected and I will always be grateful to them for touching my life in such a deep and profound way.

I would like to share their mandala here, which I believe to be the most beautiful mandala I have made so far.

This first photo is of the basic mandala design for my friend that emerged from a subconscious level. The actual size is 12" x 12".

The second picture is of the finished piece. It's the colors that give it their magic healing quality. After completing it, I would stare at it's beauty, amazed at this special human being's life.

Right around dusk, when the room starts to darken, there are areas of the design that seem to glow as if this person's energy was coming through. After all, when someone leaves their physical body, they are still very much alive, especially in our hearts.

Link

Bubbles . . . no troubles

For over a year or so I would be driving down Cahuenga Blvd. as it forks off Lankershim just passed Universal Studios on the way to work or run errands. Off in my own little world I would notice a bubble or two float by my window. It would put a smile on my face and I could feel my attitude brighten. Where were they coming from? Did whoever put up the bubble machine know how it lifts my spirit and probably others as well?

Being a defensive driver, it was not easy to find the source of the bubbles. Then the bubbles stopped. What a disappointment. A few weeks later, I was pleasantly surprised to find bubbles gliding along once again. It’s surprising how such a small thing can make such an impact on a person’s frame of mind.

I needed to thank whoever was doing this and encourage them to continue because they are really doing something very cool. Got my camera and parked along the street so I could walk and check the source. It was on a pole at the entrance of a car repair shop. I took pictures of the bubbles popping out of the machine and the American flag waving above. A gentleman came out, pulled the ladder over to the pole and began to add more bubble liquid to the machine.

He then introduced himself, shook my hand and told me that if I ever needed anything to come by. I in turn told him how much I appreciated the bubbles and what a difference they made for me. His reply was, “bubbles, no troubles.”



Thank you for bringing sunshine into my life. It’s the little things that seem to be the most important.