The Larson Family

In my previous blog, Justice Delayed I explained how my Uncle Jim ended up in prison after a drunken fight in a hotel room, and how he was left incarcerated for about fifteen years longer than he should have been. But the story of how he was released is a story in and of itself.

When the state of Michigan passed a “Life Means Life” law in 1992, they decided to apply the law retroactively to all currently incarcerated lifers, whether they had been given a parolable life sentence or not. That meant my Uncle Jim, who could have expected to be released somewhere around 1992, suddenly found himself the recipient of a very long sentence extension.

A group of law students from a nearby university took exception with the idea that a prisoner’s sentence could be extended with the stroke of pen, disregarding the recommendation of the judge and jury who originally tried the case. So, legal challenges were filed, and after many years, the courts finally ruled in favor of the inmates. You can pass a “Life Means Life” law, but you cannot apply it retroactively to prisoners who have already been convicted by a jury and sentenced by a judge.

It was that ruling which finally sprang my uncle from prison just two days ago.

My Uncle’s plan upon his release was to come back to North Dakota and live with his Mom, my Grandmother, in Minot. So my Mom and her other brother John met up in New Haven, Michigan, picked up my Uncle Jim as he was let out of prison after thirty-two years, and began the long drive back to North Dakota. This roadtrip was the first time these three siblings have been together since they were just little kids.

On the way to Minot, they were gracious enough to stop here in Fargo, and I got to meet my Uncle Jim for the first time since I was in diapers. The picture above, left to right, is Uncle John, my Mom, me, and Uncle Jim. I made a big, home-cooked meal of Dakota Baby-Back ribs with homemade baked beans and we had a great time with the family. Jim and John got to know my wife and son, and I got so see my Mom for the first time in two years (she lives in Texas). We stayed up talking ’til late in the night.

Unfortunately, the visit was far too short. We went out for breakfast this morning, and then they had to get back on the road to Minot. They left a few minutes ago and they’ll arrive in Minot this afternoon. Jim will get to reunite with his Mom, and then it’s down to business. He’ll have to check in with his parole officer (he has forty-eight hours from the time he enters North Dakota to check in) and then get to work on settling in at my Grandma’s house and finding work. He has a potential employment opportunity already set up, and things seem to be going good on that front. He has been a physically active man while in prison, so his health is good for a man of sixty-seven, and that’s a blessing considering most men his age would be retiring.

We hope to travel to Minot in the next month or so for a visit.

2007

Fifty years from now, when we look back on the movies of this first decade of the millennium, we will compare them to the science fiction of the seventies. Bleak. Downbeat. Realistic.

28 Weeks Later is a stylistically brilliant example; aesthetically beautiful from lighting to editing. As a sequel, it remains visually and cinematically true to the original, 28 Days Later (2002) in it’s desperate depiction of survival in a post-apocalyptic London which has been virtually wiped out. There is no joy, no future, no hope.

The storyline picks up right where the original left off, but with a new set of characters. Great Britain has been destroyed by the infection, but the infected who wander the streets eventually starve to death. Under the direction of a U.S. led NATO force, the reconstruction of London begins. But it seems the claims the infection had run it’s course were far too optimistic.

This movie will make you squirm in your seat. The main characters, a family trying to survive and stay together, take you on a kind of emotional roller-coaster to a very sensitive place, which in turn makes the gory scenes of unbelievable violence all the harder to take. When Don (Robert Carlyle) is infected, transforms into a zombie, and then proceeds to gouge out the eyeballs of his wife Alice (Catherine McCormack) with his thumbs, I almost gave up. Fortunately, I was watching with a group of friends and couldn’t just turn it off. I was glad to see it got better, although it is violent and gory.

28 Weeks Later does have its shortcomings. First and foremost, no Cillian Murphy. His role in the original installment pulled you in and kept you for the duration. The sequel suffers from it’s own serial-killing… all of our heroes end up dead in a relentless parade of uber-violent death scenes, including the aforementioned thumbs-in-eyes bit, the obligatory throat-tearing and limb-eating scenes we’ve come to expect from Zombie movies, and the immolation of an American Soldier with a flame-thrower. And just in case you’re not grossed-out enough, we also get countless head and chest explosions from high-caliber firearms, and the topper — the killing of dozens of infected with the blades of a helicopter. And at its core, the zombie premise limits the movie to the standard zombie-film mold — it’s a chase flick.

Like the original, 28 Weeks Later is loaded with societal parallels and ponderings, including homeland security, illegal immigration, and civil liberties. Like the movies of the seventies, this story mirrors reality in a difficult time–the implication being the thinking citizen has disappeared and has been replaced by blood-thirsty automatons. Where are the powers of good? Where are the voices of the righteous? But perhaps I’m over-thinking it.

*** Three Stars ***

It’s that time of the year in the Northern states. The deadliest time of the year… first snow. Every year, I’m reminded of the Keystone Kops, and the clown that used to perform during halftime at the ice show. A lot of slippin’ and slidin’ is goin’ down on the streets of Fargo right now.

I saw it on the way to work this morning… fishtailing as you round a corner… nearly sliding off the interstate off-ramp… And the stuff I saw other drivers doing was crazy too.

This time of year. It sneaks up on you. All summer you get accustomed to waiting until the last possible minute to leave for a destination, hopping into the car, and zooming over there as close to the deadline as possible. And it’s easy. And you can drive fast.

Problem is, when winter gets here, it’s hard to break those habits. You gotta warm up the car and/or scrape the windows, make some hot coffee and fill up your travel mug, bundle up for the weather, and finally head out the door to work. Then, on your way to work, you’re going way too fast because you’re behind schedule.

But, everybody does slow down… eventually.

This is my theory. Nobody slows down until they have their first “I Think I Just Shit My Pants” moment. If you live in the North, you know the moment… you’re half way to work, you’ve been in the car ten minutes, and that initial sense of driving awareness you had when you got in the car has been whittled away by radio, cell phone, and a morning smoke.

You turn off the main drag onto a less-traveled street, the intersections controlled with stop signs. You don’t pay attention to your speed. You’re approaching a stop sign, cross-traffic ahead, and you notice your first enemy. A glazed, icy appearance to the hard packed snow in the intersection. You step on the brake… too late. Your momentum is already more than the tires can handle on North Dakota road-lube. Your wheels lock up — You’re sliding. Cars crossing in front of you are seemingly unaware that you’re careening toward their doom. You’re pumping the brakes — or if you have ABS, stomping and steering. The intersection is twenty feet away. Ten feet.

And suddenly, like a miracle from God, the tires catch on something… some gravel, sand from a sand truck, your pride, and you come to rest with your front bumper just into the edge of the instersection. You can see the look on the face of the driver you just narrowly avoided killing. And you realize — “I think I just shit my pants.” The other driver thinks the same thing.

That’s the upside of the “I Think I Just Shit My Pants” moment. It’s for sharing. You can have yours, and at the same time, share it with someone else.

So you both go home, change your pants.

From that moment on, you slow down. You might have a couple of lapses throughout the winter, but even then, you’ll have a few minor panics, nothing major, but it will remind you of “that time earlier this year, when I shit myself.” And then you’ll slow down again.

But this time of year is dangerous, because only a few people have shit their pants so far. So when everybody else shits their pants, then we’ll be safe for the rest of the season.

That’s what I think anyway.