An Aloha State

I’ve been to Hawaii twice. 

The first time, my family took one of those island-hopping cruise ships—still the largest boat I’ve ever been on, but tiny compared to some of the mega-liners that exist now.  I was in the throes of puberty and its typical self-loathing, and there seemed to be plenty of things to do for adults or kids, but not much in that limbo range of early adolescence.  I don’t remember much about the boat except playing chess with my dad in one of the lounges, and spending a lot of time in the movie theater they had on board, in the bottom of the ship.

They would loop the same movie all day, a different movie each day.  Usually, it was a bad contemporary movie (City Heat with Burt & Clint, Oh God, You Devil with George Burns) but they also showed Blue Hawaii (1961), my first real exposure to Elvis, since we didn’t have any of his music in the house growing up.  Directed by Norman Taurog (the only Oscar-winner who would helm The King), it wasn’t very good but it was my first exposure to Angela Lansbury outside of Murder, She Wrote (a staple in our home) and the first time I ever heard “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, the only decent song in the film.

Love and Romance, back then, were just an abstraction—seemingly unattainable, completely alien to how I saw my life, myself.  But overflowing with hormones, I was still swept up with the longing of it, if not the hope.  That song, so simple, talks about Fate, the sheer inevitability of feeling that happens when your heart is affected.  There’s no reciprocation in the song, no relationship.  It is simply confessional, embracing the truth that at the right time, the heart knows what it wants.  Even if it keeps that truth to itself.  I had grown up along the Pacific, but it had never seemed so big than when I was on that boat.  And me, so small.

The second time I was in Hawaii, I was married.  A good friend was a pilot for the now-defunct Aloha airlines and we paid him and his girlfriend a visit.  My wife and I loved taking road trips so all we did in our free time there was circle Oahu by car, stopping every couple miles to visit one magnificent (and deserted) beach after another.  At one point along the drive, we encountered what looked like the remains of a terrible plane crash—except there were no emergency response vehicles, but a more sedate bustle and a road block that cut our excursion short.  It wouldn’t be until the following fall’s television season that this mysterious sight would be explained.  But mostly, the two of us just used paradise to escape, with the beauty of the island surrounding us.  Honolulu held little interest.  This was about exploring and getting Lost together.

I’m not married anymore, but no talk about my past travels is adequate without discussing my ex.  Like I’ve said before, we made a good team, and that was no truer than when we explored the world together.  We had different interests and tastes, but the pace at which we took things complemented each other perfectly, and the world seems, in a certain way, smaller without her.  Left to my own financial devices now, it’s certainly more inaccessible.  I’ve been to some truly amazing places, but there are many I’d still like to visit someday.  Perhaps I will.

When I first stepped foot on Kauai, it was literally the most beautiful place I’d ever been in my life.  But I’ve been to the islands twice now, and other places call to me far more.  But more than that, there is something unique about Hawaii for me.  Distinctive in its nature.  Whatever travels I see in my future, I foresee doing them alone.  And that’s ok—I love traveling, exploring, discovering by myself.  Which is why I probably will never go back to Hawaii. 

Because Hawaii is different.  Hawaii is for sharing.


Top 10 places I've been with her
1. Paris, France
2. The Galapagos Islands, Ecuador
3. Budapest, Hungary
4. Bryce Canyon, Utah
5. Kruger National Park & safari across South Africa
6. Venice, Italy
7. Tokyo, Japan
8. Coastline of Maine, north of Portland
9. Barcelona, Spain
10. Siena, Italy

Top 10 places I've been without her
1. Amazon rainforest, Ecuador
2. The Catacombs - Paris, France
3. The Library of Congress nitrate film vaults - Dayton, OH*
4. Edinburgh, Scotland
5. Savannah, Georgia
6. 80 corridor, Wyoming
7. Kauai, Hawaii
8. The Tate Modern - London
9. Arlington Cemetery, Virginia
10. The Cat Cabinet - Amsterdam

*since relocated

10 places I still hope to visit one day
1. Machu Picchu, Peru
2. Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
3. Pyramids of Giza, Egypt
4. Angkor Wat, Cambodia
5. Musee d'Orsay - Paris, France
6. Pordenone Silent Film Festival, Italy
7. High Sierra Camps, Yosemite Nat'l Park, CA
8. Santorini, Greece
9. Antelope Canyon, AZ
10. MLB Hall of Fame, Cooperstown, NY

The Classic Elvis stamp (Scott #2721) is paired with a Hawaii statehood stamp (#4415).  The Steamboat Geyser stamp was part of the Wonders of America series (#4059), here paired with another Yellowstone geyser, Old Faithful (#1053) and one celebrating the park itself (#744).

Premium Rush

Amidst all the big comic book adaptations and massive action tentpole films this last summer, the most exciting time I had in the theater was with a lean, modest movie about bike couriers called Premium Rush.

Confession: I don’t know how to ride a bike.  This surprises a lot of people, since learning to do so seems a ubiquitous part of growing up.  I guess I don’t have much of an explanation for it, except that there didn’t seem much point to when I was little.  I didn’t have any friends who lived near me.  In the suburban wasteland of San Diego, there was nowhere I wanted to go.  That I was nonathletic, physically uncoordinated didn’t help either.  I’m not sure how my younger sister learned, because the only advice my dad ever gave was “Don’t do that.”  But she wanted a paper route.  She was motivated, and I really didn’t care.

Then, as you get older, it becomes more embarrassing not knowing.  And more reasons come up to never learn.  I knew how to drive.  I moved to an urban center, where bicyclists appeared to take their lives into their own hands every day (when they weren’t having their bikes stolen).  I loved going for walks that went miles and miles.  Of course, as soon as someone would find out, they’d immediately offer to teach me, but that was usually just as quickly forgotten.  And the occasions to ride were so infrequent, it never really came up as an adult.  The one time I visited Amsterdam, the ideal place to make up for lost time, it was the middle of winter and completely iced over, so not even the most seasoned bicyclists were on the road.

So bike riding has an exotic allure for me that allows even simple movie scenes to have amazing power because of that visceral elusiveness.  The playfulness of Butch and Sundance.  The charming community of the Muppets on an outing together.  Or the excitement of Joseph Gordon-Levitt negotiating traffic, weaving around pedestrians, out-pedaling the bad guys with some McGuffin in his messenger bag.  Genuinely thrilling stuff.

This past summer was also the 30^th anniversary of E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (Spielberg, 1982).  I remember the movie vividly growing up, because I was Elliott’s age, socially awkward and stuck in my own California suburban malaise.  I was enchanted by the film back then, even though I loved all kinds of movies and was the only kid I knew who already was familiar with The Quiet Man (the film ET watches when he and Elliott share their intoxicated, psychic connection).

So when it popped up on TV recently, I watched for a bit (it had been ages since I’d last seen it).  And while it may not have the epic scope or depth of feeling that Close Encounters does (to my mind, still Spielberg’s one masterpiece), I thought it still held up pretty well.  Until the famous bike chase.  As soon as Elliott, his brother and friends start barreling through backyards, evading the feds on their two-wheelers to John Williams’ propulsive music, I was completely enraptured, every nerve tingling.

For a kid at that age and that time, bikes were empowering.  Liberating.  Emotions I never really understood or experienced until I was much older, my suffocating adolescence behind me.  So this was my favorite part of the movie, maybe one of my favorite sequences in any 80s movie.  

Because it represented for me something both energizing and absent growing up.  It doesn't last long, but it's marvelous to watch.  And as soon as ET uses his alien mojo to send the bikes flying into the air, I changed the channel.  Because what made the movie special to me was over.

They say it’s never too late.  And I suppose that’s true.  But I have no bike, no helmet, no one to teach me, no easy means of learning, and no one to ride with.  The time and cost are real investments now.  And any recreational biking would still involve a lot of driving to get to where I can do so safely, which itself seems its own sort of vanity.  But that’s OK.  Not all bucket list items are meant to be checked off.  And I still have the movies, where even the most pedestrian fantasies can be brought to life.

E.T. was honored with a stamp in the Celebrate the Century 80s issue (Scott # 3190m) and specifically in the Special Effects stamp of the American Filmmaking series (Scott # 3772i).  A highlight of the film is the liberation of the frogs in the science class, and the Wonders of America series kindly obliged me a stamp (Scott # 4055), as did the residential subdivision in the Earthscapes issue (Scott # 4710k).  The E.T. stamp from the Republic of Tatarstan was issued in 2001.

Great Scott

It’s hard to believe that Thelma & Louise was released 20 years ago. I was in college at the time and remember all the controversy about feminist outrage and confronting misogyny (both overt and latent). I haven’t seen it again since—it’s not the type of film that gets replayed on TNT the way other “chicks with guns” films like Aliens and Terminator 2 are. But I remember that even back then, the Grand Canyon jump was a cheap and inauthentic end to two beautifully realized characters, with the final freeze frame of the car in the air a royal cop-out to an otherwise engaging movie.

What I liked about the film most, though (besides some terrific performances across the board) was that it was the only film that gave Ridley Scott visual breathing room. From Alien to Blade Runner to Black Rain, his films were suffused with imagery that was wet and dark and claustrophobic. But this film showed that he can handle sunshine and wide open spaces, that he had a directorial gift for American landscape as a complement to his heroines’ road trip. Sadly, even though subsequent efforts like Blackhawk Down and Gladiator take place largely outdoors, the style is still visually cluttered and oppressive. Thelma is a window into a career that might have been—a spare, linear, natural sensibility that allows for the fact that empty space need not be devoid of ideas.

I love to go camping and have been to the Grand Canyon, but never both together (nor have I explored farther than the south rim). Hopefully one day. The Grand Canyon stamp (Scott #4054) from the Wonders of America series gave me an opportunity to pull some older Grand Canyon stamps as well, the oldest of which is from 1934 (Scott #741) as part of a National Parks series. The other two are Scott #2512 & C135 (which designates an Air Mail stamp).

Postage Overdue

This is the first in a series, exploring cinematic subjects who have not yet received a stamp but seem overdue.

Lillian Gish was as big a female silent film star as existed, and while the Stars of the Silent Screen issue found space for the likes of the completely worthy Clara Bow and Zasu Pitts, Gish was MIA. It’s often hard to account for these absences other than that the estates of the deceased are very protective of their images and haven’t yet given the USPS permission to use them for a postal issue.

I haven’t seen The Whales of August (Anderson, 1987), but it was Gish’s last film and on my (incredibly long) To See list. But I have seen Maine. The best road vacation I probably ever had was my wife and I driving from Boston, through Vermont, across New Hampshire, B&B’ing all the way. This was years ago, in October when the foliage was in full bloom. It was a gorgeous drive and I remember driving along, never turning on the radio, just absorbing the sheer beauty around every turn. Because of the tree cover, you couldn’t even see any signs of civilization on the highway so it was just trees and mountains and vistas. Amazing.

But perhaps the best part was when we drive across Maine and hit the coast. We fell in love with it instantly, the entire stretch north of Portland (before you hit all the old money estates), and swore that if we ever got tired of the Bay Area and chose to retire in a small cabin with some cats, that we would do so in Maine. One of my favorite documentaries of all time is Frederick Wiseman’s four-hour Belfast, Maine (1999) which is epic in length but thrives on the intimacy of examining daily life in this small town, in all its variety of cultural, industrial, and personal settings. It’s an absolutely exquisite film.


When Gish finally does get her stamp, she’ll join Bette on the front here. In the meantime, The Blue Whale (Scott #4069) from the Wonders of America series was an excuse to also include the 1970 Maine statehood stamp (Scott #1391), while a separate Maine stamp (Scott #3579) from the Greetings from America series also features a lighthouse (they’re everywhere in Maine and great fun to visit).

Vertigo Redux

I just received back from the USPS one of my Vertigo postcards with a new FDC, so I thought I’d post it because it’s unique for a couple of reasons. I’ve already discussed my great love for the film, and while the one-sheet is the same as the previous post, the cancellations and stamp combinations are different.

First of all, this postcard has six different First-Day-of-Issue postmarks on a single card, as many as exist in my collection (in chronological order):

Alfred Hitchcock (Legends of Hollywood series; Scott #3226)
Bernard Herrmann (Film Composers issue; Scott #3341)
Film Directing (American Filmmaking issue; Scott #3772b)
The Coast Redwoods (Wonders of America issue; Scott #4063)
Jimmy Stewart (Legends of Hollywood series; Scott #4197)
And now, the Redwood Forest priority mail stamp (Scott #4378)

You can see by the dates that this spans 12 years from the first postmark to this most recent one.

This card also has the most stamps of any non-Disney postcard I have, for in addition to those listed, I also used four other stamps. The Golden Gate Bridge and Palace of Fine Arts stamps were featured in the previous Vertigo blog post, to which I’ve added the two oldest stamps on the postcard: Forest Conservation (1959; Scott #1122) and the bicentennial of the California settlement (1969; Scott #1373)


I used so many of the redwood tree stamps because of the visit Scottie and “Madeline” make to the redwood groves in the film. As big a movie buff as I am, I never quote movies in my everyday life, but if I’m ever in a museum or national park and encounter a large tree cross-section, I will always say, “Here I was born, and there I died. It was only a moment for you. You took no notice”. It’s a haunting moment in a haunting film.

As for the California stamp, nothing could be more perfect for the film than its depiction of a mission belltower, which, sadly, doesn’t really exist if you visit San Juan Bautista in real life. The mission is there but the tower in the film is a matte painting.

The dollar value of all the stamps is also by far the most of any in my collection, because this most recent postmark was for a priority mail stamp, putting the total face value of the card at $7.37.

I think this card is also ready for retirement. There’s very little real estate left to fit any other stamps, and I’m hard-pressed to think of anyone else associated with the production who will be recognized by the Postal Service. The film features Kim Novak’s best performance (Stewart’s too, incidentally), but I don’t see her ever getting a stamp. The brilliant Herrmann thankfully has already been acknowledged, and while Saul Bass (title credits), Robert Burks (cinematography) and George Tomasini (editing) also make invaluable contributions to this masterpiece, it seems likely that this will be about it--unless the film itself gets its own stamp one day. Who knows?

But I’m really happy how this one turned out—a real prize in my collection commemorating an even more special movie.

Hearts and Minds

I was 8 when Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter came out 30 years ago, so too young to appreciate the cinematic division that year between the two major Vietnam movies, the other being Coming Home (Ashby). I don’t remember my family ever discussing Vietnam once when I was growing up, though given my dad’s conservative bent, I think it’s safe to assume where he stood on the conflict.

But these two films were my first exposure to the war. And while it’s easy to see what the fuss was about politically, it’s also bewildering to understand the critical love for the two. Hunter grounds itself in realism and community in the heartfelt extended wedding setpiece at the beginning, but feels compelled to lay on the barbarism and contrivance absurdly thick once the friends are reunited by the Viet Cong. Coming Home wants to make itself an updated version of The Best Years of Our Lives, but lets the love story and liberal self-loathing overwhelm any complexity with predictable and schematic character arcs. There are powerful supporting performances in both, and perhaps even some valuable lessons, but each would’ve benefited from far less of a heavy hand.

The best Vietnam film that year is also the least well-known, for Go Tell the Spartans (Post) doesn’t have an axe to grind or a soapbox to stand on, but its portrayal of conflicting loyalties and absurd demands on an Army base ring true emotionally, while staying committed to the idea that smart, capable soldiers are often the most primed to have their dedication evolve into disillusionment. It’s a terrific film.

The Vietnam Veterans memorial (itself an enormously moving monument to visit) has had two stamps issues: the landscape depiction (Scott #2109, on the front of the card) and one part of the Celebrate the Century series (Scott #3190g, on the reverse side). The Vietnam War stamp is also part of the Celebrate the Century series (Scott #3188g), while the Appalachians and Pennsylvania stamps (Scott #4062 & 3733) are part of the Wonders of America and Greetings from America series, respectively. Hunter famously won 5 Oscars (to Home’s three), including Best Sound (Scott #3772j), another installment of the American Filmmaking series.

Top 10 Films of 1978

1. The Last Waltz (Scorsese)
2. Dawn of the Dead (Romero)
3. The Tree of Wooden Clogs (Olmi)
4. Fingers (Toback)
5. Straight Time (Grosbard)
6. Go Tell the Spartans (Post)
7. Blue Collar (Schrader)
8. A Wedding (Altman)
9. Days of Heaven (Malick)
10. House Calls (Zieff)

Maximaphily and Me

Recently, I got a correspondence from my favorite postcard vendor and he used a term that I hadn't heard in a while but which has crossed my stamp-collecting path periodically.

Maximum Card: a postcard with an enlarged picture of a commemorative postage stamp, with the stamp itself postmarked on the picture, usually the first day of issue.

I ran into this term a couple years ago, but it’s never been clear to me how pervasive it was (not to mention its assorted variations) in the philatelic community. It's always struck me as a niche that’s often relegated to an afterthought. Doing a little digging, though, I did unearth this.

In other words…Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Essentially, According-to-Hoyle restrictions on what does and doesn’t constitute a maximum card bore me. Here’s one I created that doesn’t “qualify” by FIP standards for a variety of reasons, but which I like—plus, it also brings up some additional attributes of my collection that haven’t been discussed yet.


First of all, although all my previous blog posts have dealt with postcards with various cinematic themes, this is actually the first stamp I’ve posted about that is film-related itself. This was part of the 10-stamp American Filmmaking series issued back in 2003, with an unexpected bonus that the illustrated postmark used the Academy Award statuette in the design. Dances with Wolves (Costner, 1990), of course, did win 7 Oscars back—including Best Sound (and most famously beating out Martin Scorsese’s GoodFellas for Picture and Director). Needless to say, I’ll eventually post examples of all 10 of the stamps from that series (which include Editing, Cinematography, Art Direction, and others).

Another distinctive element of this card is that it actually incorporates older stamps with a more contemporary issue and postmark (this is different from the multiple-FDCs I posted about earlier). In this particular case, the additional stamps are:

Crazy Horse (1982 – Scott #1855)
Red Cloud (1987 – Scott #2175)
Sitting Bull (1989 – Scott #2183)

The Scott # refers to the Scott Publishing Company and its specialized catalog, which is the philatelist’s bible in researching and referencing every postage stamp ever issued, both in the US and every other country on earth. The international catalog is a multi-volume series that is updated annually, but I just own a copy of the US catalog exactly for situations like this: sometimes, a card presents itself that invites the use of additional, previously-released stamps that dovetail nicely with the subject matter of the card I’m using.

Needless to say, I usually don't have these stamps just lying around, so they do constitute an additional investment, but for older stamps, they're usually pretty reasonably priced (for example, it would cost me $1.90 today to buy the 3 Native American stamps I just listed). That's the main reason I attend stamp shows like Westpex (only two months away!)

Here's another component to my collection--I'll also use the back of the postcards, not just the front, to assemble additional FDCs which may not (for space or aesthetic reasons) be suitable to use on the face. You see that on the back of this card, I also used previously issued stamps with a newer FDC—in this case, one from the 40-part Wonders of America series issued in 2006. The additional stamps are:

Wildlife - Buffalo (1969 – Scott #1392)
Buffalo (2000 – Scott #3468)

I really like using older stamps (in this case, even one issued before I was born), not only because of the variety of style and colors they add on an aesthetic level, but also because I think it provides interesting connective tissue with the past. US stamps in particular represent America’s political and cultural history, and I like incorporating that sense of history into the card assemblies I create. And interestingly enough, the older the stamp, the cheaper it often is to procure. Because the '69 stamp had an original face value of 6 cents, it can increase in value over 600% and still cost less than the 2000 stamp (obviously, once you start hitting the turn-of-the-previous-century, this general rule flies out the window).

Since WonderCon was this past weekend, I thought I would include an FDC from one of the DC Comic issues, since I've already included a few of the Marvel stamps that were released a year later. I haven't collected comics in over 20 years, but these shows also feature lots of movie memoribilia for sale, so it can be a good place to find some movie postcards, if the right vendor shows up. I may even have gotten this card at a previous convention. I have to say I have never actually seen Batwoman (Cardona, 1968), but I can't imagine it can be anywhere as cool as the one-sheet makes it appear.

Lots of film wrap-up catch-ups await, so keep coming back! B^)