Q&A with Joe Pontillo

Joe is a writer in Los Angeles and movie enthusiast.

Joe, I thoroughly enjoyed your live Twitter updates during the Oscars last night, and I just wanted to talk to you a bit and take the opportunity to share your thoughts with my friends and readers.

My comments, however, became less intelligent as the evening went on and I consumed more spiked diet 7-up. Strange how that happens.

Joe: I spent the Oscars sober, which is unusual considering it was a weekend night.

1. We've heard a lot today about how funny or not-funny the Oscars were, how beautiful or boring the dresses were, and how Javier Bardem's speech was the most moving--and it was in Spanish! What's your overall assessment of last night's show? A general view is fine, as we can talk specifics later.

All I can say is that I wish I had learned more in my Spanish classes in college other than "hamburguesa"--my thanks to you, Amanda.

Joe: I thought they put on a good show this year. There's been worse,there's been better. I didn't feel like there were any classicmoments -- no Billy Crystal inserting himself into movies, nostreakers, no inflammatory political speeches. Pretty tame. Butthere were some well-deserved wins, some genuinely heartfeltacceptances, and the show moved at a pretty good pace which is alwaysthe best way to do it.

2. How about that Jon Stewart? What were his best moments? His off moments?

Joe: Jon Stewart is an excellent host. He had a lot to do with the factthat the show moved at a great pace. I wish there would have beenmore of his Daily Show brand of humor. That show makes me laugh outloud at least six times per half hour. Can't quite say the same aboutthe Oscars. His best moment by far was when he brought the BestOriginal Song winner back on stage to deliver the speech she'd beencut off from giving. I don't really think he had any "off moments."I mean, a few jokes didn't land, but that's completely normal. Can'twin 'em all.

3. Please explain to those who aren't as "in the know" as you how much time it typically takes to plan a successful Oscar night and how much time they had this year, given the writers' strike.

Joe: I don't know as much about putting on the Oscars as I do, say, a typical TV show or movie. Needless to say, they usually use more time than they did this year. From what I've read, the writers seem to getto work as soon as the nominees are announced. As far as whenproducers start planning the show, my educated guess would be thatthey're hard at work a good six months ahead of Oscar night,redesigning the stage, planning production numbers, editing montages,stuff like that. As much as I love all this movie stuff, I've neverdone much studying on how the Oscars actually get produced. I just sit back and watch the show.

4. What's the deal with Jack Nicholson? Is he becoming that guy in the gym who wears sunglasses while working out? Or can he do anything and make it fashionable because he's Jack Nicholson?

Joe: Wearing sunglasses indoors and/or at night is nothing new for Jack.At this point, it's probably just happened. Why did he start? I'msure it had something to do with his delicate eyes getting burnt outunder those harsh movie lights. But the real reason is probably justbecause he can. It's his non-verbal way of saying, "Eff you. I'mJack effing Nicholson."

5. Some have said Julie Christie deserved a win last night. Some have said Denzel Washington deserved to be nominated for his performance in "American Gangster." What's your take?

Joe: Who said these things? No one near me. If there's one thing theAcademy often does that I hate, it's give sympathy awards to peoplejust because they've been around for a while. If Julie Christie hadwon, that would have been the reason. I didn't see "Away from Her,"and probably never will. Why? Every indication I have is that themovie was just mediocre. Good first effort for Sarah Polley, but notgreat. (I certainly encourage her to keep going. I'm sure her nextmovie will be better.) I'm sure Christie's performance was fine.She's been doing fine since the '70s. Sorry to be cynical, but shewas nominated as a reward for making her first serious effort in 20years. Same with Hal Holbrook. Don't feel bad for them. They'veboth had great careers.Likewise with Denzel. Despite how great his performance may have been(I also have no plans to see "American Gangster"), the movie was adud. You simply don't get nominated for movies that make peopleshrug. Denzel just had a big win a few years ago; he's doing just fine.

6. Did you see the Barbara Walters special before the Oscars? If so, what did you think of Harrison Ford's interview? If not, did you at least attend Prince's afterparty? Sean Combs was there.

Joe: On the west coast, we get Barbara Walters' pre-Oscar special AFTER theOscars. That's just how we roll. Represent! I watched it passivelywhile cleaning up and getting ready for bed. At this point in hercareer, I'm sorry, Barbara Walters is a lightweight interviewer. Thatbeing said, I thought her Vanessa Williams interview went pretty well.

Harrison Ford gave a fine interview. Nothing about it is sticking outin my mind at the moment. Again, just to be cynical, he was clearlygranting this interview as part of his obligation for promoting theupcoming Indiana Jones movie. And if there's any question about that,Barbara herself pointed out that this was the first interview he'sdone in, what did she say, 11 years? He clearly doesn't care forinterviews, but he was a gentleman about it.

7. You seemed very happy last night when "Once" got the nod for best song. Did you like "Once" that much, or were you just that annoyed that "Enchanted" got three nominations?

Joe: I'm not annoyed by "Enchanted." I haven't seen it yet, but I will.Everybody seems to have been charmed by it. So, while I can't make adirect comparison between the two movies at this time, the answer isyes, I loved "Once" that much. It's a simple story, straight from theheart. You fall in love with the characters, and you just want themto be happy. And the songs are great. Most people would love thismovie, but they just don't know it exists. "Enchanted" had thebenefit of Disney's powerhouse marketing department. "Once" needspeople to tell their friends and family about it.

8. They put on a sort of sentimental show last night, showing many clips throughout the show's 80 years. Of all of the special moments in Oscar history, which one was your favorite and why?

Joe: Oh, wow. I'm still pretty young for a question like that, right? I've only seen so many Oscar telecasts in my lifetime. Other thanthat, you just see the same ten to 15 clips over and over again, youknow? (From what I understand, the Academy is very stingy aboutlicensing clips from the Oscars. I couldn't possibly imagine why.)That being said, some of my best Oscar memories are from the mid-90s.This may just be nostalgia for my formative years, but I smile atmemories of Whoopie Goldberg in Queen Elizabeth makeup, Billy Crystalsinging about nominees to the tune of "Fascinating Rhythm," "Show Methe Money" and whatnot. The "year of the indies" - I think it was'96. Or that one year when, no matter what camera they cut to, KeanuReeves would turn and stare directly into it. Maybe I'm getting alittle vague here.

9. Heath Ledger's name and photo came at the end of the memorial tribute, and then it went dark. Would you have liked to have seen an audience reaction after his name, considering he was the youngest movie star to have died in the last year?

Joe: Are you sure Brad Renfro wasn't younger? And did you notice that BradRenfro did not appear in the tribute at all? Quite an insulting oversight.

Not only did I not want to see the audience reaction to Heath Ledger,I actually find it distasteful that they leave the audiencemicrophones on during these yearly tributes. That turns it into apopularity contest: which dead person are we giving the most applauseto? Who deserves our love in the afterlife the most? The only audioyou should hear during the tribute is the musical accompaniment.

10. If you were to only win one Academy Award throughout your career, which one would it be and why? Which one would matter to you most personally and why?

Joe: Costume design.

Ok, seriously, this is an uncomfortable question to be asked. I'm notgoing to pretend I don't dream about getting nominated for or winningan Academy Award. But I also don't want people to know just how muchtime I spend thinking about it, and how frequently I do a mental draftof my acceptance speech.Since you asked, I would hope to be a contender for either writing ordirecting. They would be equally important to me.

I'm sure it feels great to have a huge group of people tell you you're good at something you love to do.

About a Boy

Dear Tyler,

Among the many things I've learned from you and your sister, my favorite is this: how a person comes into this world is how they go through it.

For example, my pregnancy with your sister was healthy, easy and beautiful, but her entrance happened much faster than we expected. She seemed so determined to get into this big world. And by the time you are able to read this, you will have learned that Cienna is a girl who gets what she wants--whether through work or charm.

My mother, your Nana, tells me that she had a short labor with me as well, and I was born in front of a class of medical students. Maybe that's why I'm as comfortable with an audience and enjoy communicating so much.

You didn't seem to want a disruption in your environment. Not only were you very late (which you obviously get from me), you were looking up, so your head wasn't in position for a traditional delivery. Thus, you entered the world via c-section.

And I knew the first time I saw your cute, little face and beautiful, big eyes that you would be just like your daddy--that you would grow up to be the kind of man who just wouldn't go away. I knew that you would grow up to be as loyal as he is, never capable of abandoning what you love, physically or emotionally.

The front-page headline that day, above the fold (don't worry--we'll talk someday about why that matters), said "Don't look down," and I thought that was funny because you were born the way you were because you wouldn't look down.

(I'm also proud to say that the Sunday paper was the first thing I read to both you and your sister when you were born. You were both born on Saturdays, so it worked out!)

Even though it made for a longer recovery, I have to admit that the eternal optimist in me was very proud that her son wouldn't look down. I can only hope you hold onto that bravery and hope throughout life's challenging moments. In the end, that's what will always get you through.

There's so much opportunity in life. And throughout most of your life you're going to hear people talking about what it means to be smart. Some say it's standardized test scores. Some say it's grades. Some say it's SAT scores. Some say it's what college you go to. Some say it's how much money you make. But what really makes you smart is what you do with all of your opportunities. Smart choices lead to success.

Allow me to ruin the suspense: you won't always make the smart choices. Nobody gets it right 100 percent of the time. (Your mom has seemed to work on a 70/30 plan.)

But what makes that OK is that you have a family that loves you unconditionally. We will always be here for you--wherever here is. You are our priority. When you dream, we will dream with you.

However, we promise not to dream for you. It's important to us that you always follow your heart. There's no healthy aspiration that would ever disappoint us. So as you chart your course, be sure to embrace and appreciate the support system you have. Sometimes all that separates a dream from a dream come true is the right support system.

To be honest, I'm more afraid of failing you somehow. I'm scared that I'll one day run out of answers to questions, or the right advice for moments when you can't be soothed with a lullaby or good book.

But how blessed am I to have memories of all those special hours with you, rocking you as I sang your favorite songs, most of which came from The Beatles: "Across the Universe," "Blackbird," "Yesterday," "Here Comes the Sun," "Hey Jude," "Mr. Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan, "One" by U2" and "Wild Horses" by the Rolling Stones. I would just stare at you and sing, feeling totally amazed to be holding you in my arms.

I'm certain there's no greater gift in life than motherhood, regardless of how or when that graces a life. And coming from someone who doesn't really believe in luck, I sure do feel lucky to be your mom.

So as I get things ready for your first birthday party, gently crying in amazement that you were ever so tiny to fit into your first shirt and tossel cap, I know that before I can even imagine it I'll be writing about you graduating from high school in another cap and gown.

My wish is that between now and then, all of your birthdays, and all of your unbirthdays, will be filled with hope, peace, love, good health and happiness.

Love,
Mom

A Heart Full of Love

When I was in high school, I had a pretty serious poetry phase. I read it, I wrote it, I loved it.

I still appreciate all that I read. What I wrote provides some amusing insight to how I was feeling at the time--much more than any of my journal entries ever have. But I very much prefer other genres of writing to poetry now in my adult life.

But there was a book of poems, "A Heart Full of Love" by Javan, that was among my adolescent favorites, and I kept thinking of that title during the walk to Mellon Arena for last night's Penguins game.

As we approached a homeless man with a cup, silently begging for money with his image, Larry started to pull out a dollar. I would've fainted if I wasn't so cold.

When we were in Chicago a year and a half ago, he complained about how annoying it was to be approached by homeless people outside of games while we were leaving Wrigley Field. I didn't argue with him or anything, but I simply said that I try to give when I can. If someone asks and I can, then I give. I know all about the arguments that these people may be buying drugs and booze and who knows what else, but maybe they're just buying baby food. I'd hate to support a harmful addiction, but I have the same odds of doing that simply by being an American consumer.

Larry put a dollar in the man's cup and said, "Coffee, not crack, buddy."

As we walked away, Larry said he felt kinda bad because the man's cup was empty. And I said, "Well, maybe he has a heart full of love."

And I kind of knew that, you know, that probably wasn't the case. But it was the first thing that popped into my head. And I thought of that poetry book again until we got "up the 'rena," as the Yinzers would say.

Even though I wasn't really thinking of poetry during the game, our seats were like poetry. My Jordan Staal bobblehead is poetry. The fact that I have such an amazing friend--who knows and understands my love for Jordan Staal and GAVE UP their center ice, front-row seats so that I could go on Jordan Staal bobblehead night-- is poetry. (The same amazing friend could argue that we were poetry when we sold them our Winter Classic tickets.)

Luckily we sat among wonderful people, and the young man to my right was as giddy as I was. You know I love my giddy people. At one point when people were angry that a certain ref continued to obstruct their view, my giddy neighbor said, "Eh, he's human. He makes human mistakes, right?"

And I thought of that book again. There's a line in there a lot like that. It was as though I was meant to think of that book for some reason. It was as though I was supposed to think of human mistakes, of which I'm guilty of many.

On the way home, I told Larry that I just feel different this year. In nearly two short months, I feel like I've learned so much. I've learned how little I actually know about what hurts and helps people. I've learned that good intentions don't really matter if it makes people cry themselves to sleep. I've learned that the people we like the best are sometimes the people we hurt the worst. I've learned that I should talk less and hug more. I've learned that I shouldn't parent my friends the way I parent my children.

Also, during the new year, I've reaffirmed a lot of what I already knew. I'm not afraid to start over. I have amazing friends--who are consistently there to remind me of my strength and my roots, who are there to share adventures in parenting, who are there to laugh and cry with--sometimes in the same 5 minutes, who are there to accept me for all of my human mistakes. I have happy, healthy children who have made my heart grow with a love that is unlike any other. I have an incredibly loving husband who ...if I ever cry myself to sleep, it will be in someone's arms. I have a mom I can tell anything to and a Mark who will share advice through Southern Fried Rock. I have inlaws and brothers and sisters who are the most dependable people I've ever known.

I have a heart full of love.

That man had a cup.

And somewhere along the Parkway West, I started to wonder how he must've lost everything else.

"I just hope it wasn't because somebody couldn't forgive him, Lar. I mean, I've screwed up so many times. I have knee-jerk reactions to too many things. I overthink, overanalyze, overcare. I talk when I should shut up. I've said hurtful things to hide sadness. I can be lousy. But I have incredible love despite that. I just wonder what he could have done so bad that made him unworthy of unconditional love," I said.

"You wonder about everyone. People are your thing," Larry said.

I did a story in college about homeless people, and it was just OK. Nowhere nearly as good as stories from the reporters who lived homeless for a month or so to get a real perspective. But I still remember the people I interviewed. I still remember their stories. I still remember how fragile stability can be and how quickly our life choices can determine our shelter. And the thing all of the people I interviewed had in common was regret. They had a life of love they left behind. And most of them did view it as them leaving, as so many admitted they had chose something--an addiction, another lover, a job, travel--over their loved ones.

At no point could I be so naive to believe they were all telling me the truth. But their regret--that was real. The lonliness, the emptiness, the homelessness was real. The heart full of love for all they had lost was real.

I thought that was powerful. That, even in the bitter cold temperatures when a frigid, subzero wind threatened their lives, what they wanted more than shelter was love.

"I think I would rather possess
Eyes that know no sight
Ears that know no sound
Hands that know no touch
Than a Heart
That knows no Love"

--Javan

Getting Lucky

It's no secret that I tend to live my life holiday to holiday. I'm sure it was learned during my childhood when it seemed like the day after a holiday we were decorating for the next one.

So I'm gathering the shamrocks and Easter wreaths, debating if I should decorate for St. Patrick's Day or just Easter, which are sharing the same month this year. I enjoy both holidays. Both have meaning. I'm both Irish and Christian, which adds even more meaning.

I'm sure I'll just go with Easter. Since I was a little girl in Sunday School, I always loved the story of Easter. I loved the feeling of hope and new beginnings that it inspired. I loved the idea of being unconditionally loved and forgiven when I didn't deserve it. I loved being all dressed up with a pretty bonnet and matching purse, with the five bucks my Pap tucked inside. I loved the lillies everywhere and singing with my friends, as our parents looked at us with pride and wonder. I loved the egg hunt and Easter dinner that followed at my grandmother's house, and the baskets were beautiful and full of everything I would need for summer.

Days before Easter, I would dye and decorate the eggs with my grandparents, and Pap and I would shop for my Mom's and Grandma's baskets. I always picked white chocolate crosses for them, and I'd get my mom those little chocolate footballs that Sarris' makes. We played football on Atari a lot, so I guess I thought it was the perfect gift. I'd usually pick out some sunglasses for her and things we could use on summer vacations. My grandmother loved to knit, so I always bought her yarn and pattern books at Murphy's.

Now I'm all grown up with my own family, and I still enjoy those same traditions and the most amazing story of hope and love that has ever been told. We decorate eggs, fill and hide baskets, take lillies to the special ladies in our lives, and we still support Sarris when we pick chocolate for the baskets.

But St. Patrick's Day deserves attention as well--and I'm not talking about the kind that involves kegs and eggs or hours of public intoxication. Feel free to Google St. Patrick if you want to learn the history behind the holiday. There are always two things I take away from anything I've ever read. A lot of St. Patrick's life is unconfirmed by hard evidence, but the stories that were validated involve him being a missionary and helping others without expecting anything return. The other thing I remember is that he used the shamrock, with its three leaves, to teach people about the Holy Trinity.

The luck side of the holiday likely grew out of stories claiming St. Patrick prayed vigorously while he was held captive and finally "got lucky" and was set free to return to his family. Somehow that resulted in the "luck o' the Irish."

I'm mostly Irish and have never felt luckier than anyone else.

In fact, I don't think I'm someone who has really attributed success or failure to luck. I always think it's hardwork or a lack thereof, love or a lack thereof, ambition or a lack thereof, or the natural balance of life that results in our circumstances. As much as we'd like to blame or credit something else, it's really our own life choices that determine our fate. And that's a good thing because it actually gives us more power over our lives than if we just left it all to chance.

This has nothing to do with serendipty or religion--both of which I believe in. I believe in prayer. I believe in living for something greater than ourselves. I believe in being useful and helpful. I believe in asking and receiving.

But don't expect to receive if you never ask. And don't expect to get everything you ask for.

I think luck can truly be defined as receiving when you don't ask. But how often does that really happen? Even people who win the lottery tried to win.

So maybe luck is about beating odds that are against you. What's unusual about that? Many people beat those kind of odds every day.

Still, we have those amazing, impressive weeks when everything seems to go right--an amazing date, a promotion or raise, we snag the perfect apartment with the awesome neighbors, we avoid a speeding ticket even though we were clearly speeding, a shipment arrives earlier than you expected, and you're traveling out of town on the same Friday that you get paid.

Give it time, though, and sometimes those things will unravel.

For example...

During the beginning of summer 2001, I thought I was as lucky as a girl could get. On the final day of spring semester my sophomore year, I found out that I got an internship instead of a junior I expected might get it on age alone. I got an apartment that was just two blocks away from my best friends and a block away from all that Forbes Avenue in Oakland had to offer. And I could spend Sunday afternoons on Flagstaff, a beautiful hillside park with views of the city and a lot of frisbee.

But...

By mid-summer, I learned our landlord was an elderly woman who occasionally set things on fire, which was really unfortunate considering she lived below us. My internship, while providing me with vast writing opportunities and martini glasses, paid so little that I could barely afford bus fare and yogurt. And those beautiful Flagstaff views couldn't ease the pain of watching someone die of cancer.

Yet, by the end, I still felt lucky to live on That Street during That Summer. It was the kind of street where kids played guitars on rooftops and offered you a beer on your way home from work. And it was still only two blocks away from some of the best people I have ever known, who would share Dave and Andy's and great conversation to help me through the roughest days.

Lucky or not, I clung to the consistency of it all. The crowded bus at 7:40 a.m. The morning coffee at Seattle's Best. The phone messages waiting for me at my desk--that blinking red light that made me wonder if it was a compliment or a complaint. The budget meeting and the deadlines. The brown bag lunches at the Point, and the overpriced ones at the local grille. The walk home past the newly-built PNC Park, smiling at the enthusiastic Yinzers and holding onto images of dads with children on their shoulders, hoping I would have that someday. The really crowded bus at 5:43 p.m. The walk home, down from Fifth Avenue, across Forbes to Meyran, past the little tables outside the small restaurant, wondering what those people were talking about, wondering what their lives were like, wondering if wondering about it made me crazy or just destined for great things. The walk past the kids with guitars offering me beer, past the landlord's garden of unidentified vegetables, up to our second-floor apartment with cool throw pillows and a lot of plants. The walk to my friends, two blocks away, to watch "The Golden Girls" and "Friends" and to talk about our days--and the wise advice from BG that the Laxative and Coffee Diet was not a wise choice. The Eminem from Sib's room. The Aaliyah from upstairs. The laughing until bedtime. The prayers and wishes before sleeping that I wouldn't worry about things like bus money one day and would be blessed as one of those moms next to the dads with children on their shoulders, simultaneously hoping that I remembered to water the plants.

Nearly 7 years later (and isn't 7 supposed to be the luckiest number of all?), I feel like those prayers are being answered.

But some of it had to be luck because, when I look at my children, I feel like I got a lot more than I asked for or deserved.

The Greatest Love of All

The other night Larry, Cienna and I watched "Gameplan" together. It's a Disney movie, starring "The Rock" and seems to emulate the life of Tom Brady, though it claims not to. The plot is pretty simple and unoriginal, but I still got teary a few times. Because, well, it's me and a Disney movie that we're talking about, and I'm a kid at heart. Basically, an egotistical football player's life is changed when he learns he has an 8-year-old daughter. But he doesn't realize that she's so important to him until she's no longer living with him. Magically, she returns just in time for him to win the big championship (aka Super Bowl), and they live happily ever after. Sorry if I spoiled that for anyone. (Somehow I just know Joe is laughing at me right now.)

While the little girl and her father were separated, Cienna put her head down and started to cry. But she was wiping her tears away quickly and acted like she wasn't crying. She kept saying, "Is her Daddy sad, Mommy? When is the little girl coming back?" I assured her that, this being a G-rated Disney movie and all, the girl would definitely be back, and everything would be OK. And it was.

But in that moment of her sympathetic tears, which Larry and I both found precious and poignant, my heart paused. I realized that it wouldn't always be like that--the three of us tucked in together, with Larry and I on either side of her like book ends, protecting her from falling. There will (hopefully) be many other photos of us in the same order--her in a ballet recital costume between us, in a soccer uniform between us, a prom dress, a cap and gown, a wedding dress, holding a baby--but they are just reminders that my little girl is growing up. I know this is just one of many moments I'll have like this. I'll surely go through the same with Ty.

It's these experiences that make me feel the magnitude of parenting. One wrong piece of advice, and I may give my children a false sense of perspective on something.

I'm one of those people who believe family is everything. It's the most important foundation there is. You can give a child money, the best education, the best clothes, the best nutrition and the best shelter, but if they don't have a loving and stable family, the rest won't matter. Materialism will never replace the gift of someone's time. And if you don't get enough attention from your parents, you'll never feel like you're getting enough attention from anyone.

I don't subscribe to the theory that a perfect parent exists. I think we can offer perfect love--which can only be perfect if it's unconditional. We can offer perfect care--which is to say we are meeting the needs of our children. But I don't think it's ever possible to be a perfect example simply because we are all flawed. In that case, I just try to teach them to rebound from their mistakes with dignity, honesty, courage, forgiveness and the wisdom to avoid that mistake again. I work on these things daily.

Even though I'm painfully aware that my own weaknesses will cause me to fall short with them one day, my hope is the love I've given them and will continue to give them will be what matters most in the end. Regardless of how old they are, Larry and I will always have enough space between us for them whenever they need a hug. Whenever they need to know that it will be OK. We'll get through it together.

Because the greatest love of all is that of a family.

That's What Friends Are For

A friend from work, who also went to the same college as me, shared a couple memories with me the other day. One of his memories, I was familiar with. The other, I was just learning of.

The first thing he shared was about, what I consider to be, the remarkable manner of my dear friend E.T. He was one of the most loving, sentimental and passionate men I've ever met. He was passionate about our local sports teams, music, his roots and whomever had his heart. A broadcast journalism major and student government president, he was a talent that loved our school and its teams. One of his last radio broadcasts was during a men's basketball playoff that our Pioneers lost. Gone were our hopes that we would return to Branson for the national championship (and another opportunity for the players to believe they'd meet Nelly). E.T. got all choked up at the end of our loss, and his co-commentator, MadDawg (seriously), finished the broadcast alone saying, "I guess all good things come to an end." My friend asked if I thought E.T. got choked up about the game or that it was his last broadcast. I said it was definitely both, but mainly that it was his last broadcast. Up to that point, college was definitely the best time of all of our lives. And to this day, it's definitely one of the most memorable. It's near the top of the list of incredible life experiences. My work friend went on to say that E.T. always wore a lucky PJ shirt under his dress shirt and the same tie. I never realized that, but I couldn't doubt it either. He was always loyal that way.

The other memory he shared was about one of my absences in a history class, which was a three-hour evening class every other week. My friend was in the same class, and our professor, the amazing Ed Meena, was taking roll, got to my name and said, "Oh, she's probably at the River City Inn." Who could argue that? Not to defend my absence or anything, but the class was "History of Pittsburgh," and, well, I knew where Point State Park was.

Anyway, my work friend and I were both laughing, and it sent me down a path of nostalgia that ended in an immensely thankful place. Because I've always known how lucky I am to have these friends, to have had fate bring us together in that school, during that time, to experience those experiences. We were all pretty inseparable in college, never taking for granted that one day all of that would change.

And it has changed.

We're all over the country, pursuing dreams, having families, doing what we set out to do when we first met. Gone are the days of playing drinking games like Kings in a dorm room. Now we're taking our kids to Kings for Frownies. (OK, so maybe that's just me.) But I promise you that, even though I always got stuck with that cup, the rewards of those losses are everlasting.

Our friendships are also everlasting. And the distance has only proven that. Even when they're not with me, they are, because so many things still remind me of them.

Like spring and the beginning of baseball season and the PJ/Globe wiffle ball matches. Light Up Night and The Happiest Night of the Year. Stadium implosions and new arenas that inspire Redneck Holidays. Thursdays. The very little Spanish I learned, but all the classes I remember. Come On Eileen and Dexy Eileen. Mary Beth and Evil Mary Beth. The Hobbit and Scraggly AssAss. The Quote Book and the immortal outgoing messages from 1624. My brown shoes and Amanda's brown shoes. Beating Cleveland and going to Cleveland. Not knowing our division had a national tournament and going to the national tournament. BGs making friends with baseball players and BGs making friends with Canadians. Pigs and roosters. The Thrust and The Khandaker: the two things most likely to be part of every student activity. Two BGs in a class and classes taught by two professors: how much can one room really handle. Dormal and Shathole. Estrogen that wasn't feminine. Leroy and Lohman. Flasks in inappropriate places. Stuck in an elevator with 15 dancers--all of whom were dancing. The breakfast sandwich of champions in the city of champions. Movies in Joe's room and movies in Zilla's room. Jimmy's and Sanremo's: a choice that always depended on the value of a dollar and inevitably resulted with Pepsi in a paper cup. Panic attacks and political rallies--especially when candidates ran unopposed. Living with Ed and Zilla and living with Cr. Sarah. Living with BG, living with MB and living with GKing. Cutting stories and needing stories. BrianEdEdBrian and MaryLouBeth. That Summer.

The list could go on forever. Just like my love for all of them.

Keeper of the Stars

It's Friday, and I'm busy. But I hope you will enjoy this list of recommended love stories (and quotes with the top five) until I return with something like yesterday when I have more time.

Love Actually ("Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspision love actually is all around." --Prime Minister)

When Harry Met Sally ("I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."--Harry Burns)

Say Anything ("She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen."--Lloyd Dobbler)

Breakfast at Tiffany's ("You could always tell what kind of a person a man thinks you are by the earrings he gives you." -- Holly Golightly)

Casablanca ("If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life." -- Rick)

Annie Hall
Serendipity
Gone With the Wind
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
My Best Friend's Wedding
Dream for an Insomniac
The Wedding Planner
Dirty Dancing
Sweet Home Alabama
High Fidelity
Bridget Jones' Diary
Notting Hill
Pretty Woman
Ever After
Sleepless in Seattle
Some Kind of Wonderful
Last of the Mohicans
About a Boy
The Notebook
Fever Pitch
Sabrina
The Graduate
Titanic
Ghost
An Officer and a Gentleman
It's a Wonderful Life
City of Angels
Stepmom
Father of the Bride
The Bridges of Madison County
Jerry Maguire

P.S. I Love You

Where better to do devote a week's worth of loving than on I Love Yinz? We're all about love here, right?!

Remember how on MySpace I overwhelmed you with Christmas posts for a month leading up to the holiday? OK, maybe it was more than a month. And remember how I used a holiday song title or lyric as the title of my daily blog? Yeah, I'm going to do that again. Only this time it is all about love.

As someone who recognizes the cheesy side of this man-made holiday, I cannot completely devote this to romantic love. So during the next week we will talk about the love of all kinds of things. Just as long as we're living and loving. (Imagine that last sentence in the voice of Matthew McConaughey.)

I plan to share lists of my favorite love songs, lists of my favorite romantic movies, love quotes, love poems and love stories. Most importantly, I invite you to share all of yours with me. It's up to you whether or not you want to share that in a comment on here, or if you want to email it or call and chat about it.

While I'm compiling these lists, I'm very aware that a lot of people out there don't enjoy Valentine's Day. Many times it has nothing to do with single or taken as much as it involves people complaining about "a holiday created by Hallmark." I'm not sure anyone should take it out on Hallmark. I enjoy the greeting card chain's ornaments, suncatchers and Yankee Candle specials too much to view it as some evil empire. Instead, I think people loathe it because of the pressure it can create for couples--as if some perfect gift or lack thereof can or will determine the quality of someone's relationship. When, really, I think we all know it's about what goes on during all of the other days of the year.

Or you side with me and think red stuffed bears with pink noses are treacherous little creations that should be banished along with all musical greeting cards playing "Unchained Melody." Don't get me wrong: "Unchained Melody" is a beautiful song but not when it is played by a miniature keyboard the side of an earring clasp.

I encourage all men to look far beyond the discount retailers that offer bad chocolates filled with unidentified pink cream and silk lingerie that is not silk. Those things are not precious. Skinny red roses from the local produce department wrapped with a not-soft bear holding a heart saying, "I wuv you beary much" is not thoughtful.

If you're going for flowers, and you're lady likes roses, get some good ones. I'm a fan of Equadorian roses, and red is my least favorite. But there's nothing wrong with red--it's a classic--if it's good. A good florist will carry so many colors and tones that you will have many options beyond red.

Some women would rather have tulips.

And I would love an orchid.

You can't go wrong with roses, tulips or orchids. But, friends, you can go very wrong with carnations.

Chocolate isn't worth the calories unless it's Godiva. Or those amazing truffles at Sak's. If you're local, Sarris is also acceptable. This would suggest that my tastes are expensive, but that's not true. I'll have you know that I buy the Russell Stover's Weight Watchers candy and am proud of it. I'm just saying that for Valentine's Day, if you're going to buy her food that she will possibly feel guilty for eating, make it good.

Valentine's Day dinners can be disasters. Talk to any local restaurant manager after this weekend to enjoy stories that I like to file under Yinzers Without Reservations. There's so much double-meaning there. If going out to dinner is your thing, that's awesome. I personally find it difficult to find special meaning when every table around me is doing the same thing. (Note: this won't keep me from doing that this weekend, however.)

I recommend cooking at home. Even if you think you can't. Cook together. Involve candles. Good wine. Even better champagne. Strawberries. Chocolate for the strawberries. Conversation.

If you're on a budget, give the gift of time. Have a Scrabble marathon. Have an Xbox marathon. Have a Wii marathon. Massages. Plan a trip together for when you do have money. Share the Sunday paper. Watch a movie. Take a winter walk while wearing cute hats.

If you're not on a budget, give the gift of travel. Go somewhere so that all you can really do is enjoy each other.

If you're a lady wondering what to get your guy, you probably don't know him. Men really aren't that hard to please. Feed them, water them, love them, sport them. No man will ever be unhappy with some form of entertainment. Go from there.

If you're single, this is actually the best time of your life. You won't realize this until you're not single to fully appreciate it. But there's something precious and beautiful about being comfortable in your own skin, on your own, with the ability to celebrate your commitment to yourself. In fact, until you get to that point, you really can't have or succeed in a functional, healthy relationship. Whether it involves watching TV in your underwear, taking a new yoga class, having martinis with your other gal pals, volunteering somewhere, reading a book among a bath full of bubbles or redecorating your space, let your biggest investment be in yourself. You will see the reward for years to come.

If you have children, you should enjoy the chance to be a kid again too. Write those valentines together and make some from scratch. Grandparents love these! Bake homemade, heart-shaped cookies together and let the little ones decorate them. And when you taste them, be sure to say they are the best thing you've ever had!

If you don't really care about the holiday either way, but know someone who does and could use a smile, send them a little surprise, custom to their personality, to remind them that you care.

My favorite suggestion is actually the most perfect and perfectly simple: Write a love letter.