Riveting Argo

Angry shouts of the demonstrators reverberated inside the US embassy walls while the terrified civilians and embassy officials huddled inside.  The thunderous clamor to bring back the Americans’ harbored fugitive is nonstop. Finally, the irate crowd pushes through the gates, rushing inside the embassy grounds, clambering up the walls and striking at the door.

These are the unnerving opening scenes of Argo. The same scenes Ben Affleck wants you to see and feel, the same ones people inside the US Embassy of Iran must have felt like on that day in 1979. Enough  to make you want to shout “Get out now!” inside the darkened cinema but you can’t. Then finally like someone reads your thought, some of them gets outside through a secret door and hurry to the streets to an unknown fate.  And their ordeal from Iran to their daring escape is what Argo is all about.

I have watched the first two films of Ben Affleck, Gone Baby Gone and The Town. Both films  were good, disturbing, making you ponder. Like Argo did. Though, I didn’t appreciate his cliché of an opening, Affleck’s character waking up in a messy motel room because it reminded me of numerous tortured hero Bruce Willis characters woke up to,  I got past it as Argo progressed. There was more to the film than a brooding CIA man.

There was the hilarious script concocted just for this escape plan peppered with the presence of a sharp-tongued producer who made the movie believable plus the calm demeanor of the white-haired Canadian ambassador played by Victor Garber who is not CIA in this film. Yes, he is no Jack Bristow here J Then we also have the grim-faced men of the CIA and the State Department who you’re tempted to tell off and of course, the realistic portrayal of the talented Middle Eastern actors who I swear made me believe I was watching true scenes in Iran.

The location, the costumes in the movie were commendable. The attention to detail to recreate the 70s and the disturbing scenes on the streets was noteworthy. The backstory of the Shah of Iran at the beginning of the film was also placed well so you know why the Iranians are so damn mad and banging at the gates. The old news clips with US TV anchors in their younger years also brought authenticity in the film making you feel like you were really living in the 70s. Moreover, the grandness of that building in Turkey where Affleck’s character met another intelligence man was also memorable. What a landmark.

Overall, Argo was about the “best bad idea” the CIA had that time, a proof that sometimes what is the most bizarre and outrageous idea can be the most effective. Thinking out of the box in this case helped a lot.  Rounding up this ludicrous plan is the cooperation of Hollywood with the CIA and the generosity of the Canadians, all factors that helped save the life of the embassy people. Moreover, the guts of Mendez, Affleck’s character has also been critical, making the escape possible. His bravery was steadfast and astounding given the dangerous circumstance they were in.

This film has indeed cemented Affleck’s shift to directing. Given Argo’s box-office and critical success, I’m sure we will see more of his films. I’m just amazed how he can direct a film like he’s been at it for ages, his films remind me of those made by Clint Eastwood, crafted with a subtle edge and seared with throbbing dilemmas. And in Argo, he combined it with a riveting tempo, taking you to a heart-thumping ride, pulling your insides in a knot then, and then finally letting you sigh in relief after his characters made it through. Whew! J

Finding Forrester and Midnight in Paris: Inspiring Writer films

It’s one of those days when I struggle with my writing. Yes, it comes and goes. It has its ebbs and flows. And so to take me out of the doldrums, I’m forcing myself to remember writer character in films who had wrestled with their own writing dilemmas. Something to remind me that I’m not alone on this solitary endeavor.

One such film is Finding Forrester starring Sean Connery, a film about an African-American teenager who accidentally came across an old reclusive writer who eventually became his writing mentor.

“Constipated writing”  and “Where are you leading me to? were some of the acerbic comments Connery's character initially dished out on the boy's journal. And I couldn't help but smile and recall almost the same comments I got from a senior writer in a workshop. Comments that led me to bristle inside because really, who wants to be called on one's work, when you have poured your blood and guts into it and someone trips you with its flaws. It’s like someone criticizing your child. But in the end, I appreciated it because sometimes, you need a mentor who can point out the constricted parts of your story and tell you what doesn't work.

Forrester, Sean Connery’s character also noted that an aspiring writer should also be careful who they share their work with because some people have their own prejudices like the teacher/writer in the film who accused the boy of plagiarism. This professor can't seem to come to terms that a young, African-American male from the Bronx can write well. That good writing can also sprout from one of the unlikeliest places he can imagine and not only in schools with the best writing programs. 

Here are some of my favorite quotes in the movie:

"You write your first draft...with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is...to write. Not to think."

"Someone I once knew wrote that we walk away from our dreams afraid that we may fail, or worse yet, afraid we may succeed"

Another film that have also been my writing inspiration is Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. I love the cinematography of the movie, the beauty and splendor of Paris by day and how it looks in the rain at night. Truly, Allen must have been in love with the city because his shots were enigmatic like a smitten guy showcasing his ladylove’s alluring profiles. But Paris does look magical especially when you see the Eiffel Tower’s twinkling lights under the moonlight.

The film is a story of Gil, a writer who travels back to the 1940s in Paris at the stroke of midnight. There he met the almost alcoholic Hemingway and the party animal F.Scott Fitzgerald and his fiery wife Zelda. He also met the solid writer-critic Gloria Stein. Watching the writers' quirks and hearing their quotes were some of the entertaining portions of the film. Below is my favorite part, an excerpt of Gil and Hemingway's banter.

Gil: I would like you to read my novel and get your opinion. 
Hemingway: I hate it. 
Gil: You haven't even read it yet. 
Hemingway: If it's bad, I'll hate it. If it's good, then I'll be envious and hate it even more. You don't want the opinion of another writer. 

Other great artists were also featured in the film like Picasso and Dali, each with their own brand of temperament and wit. And honestly just the sight of these prolific artists made me realize one thing, good art can outlive its creator. It can go on and on and be appreciated by future generations, its impact withstanding the rigors of time and change and its creators forever immortalized on films such as this. Given that, I want to be immortal too J

Midnight in Paris starred Luke Wilson, he portrayed a writer from Hollywood who wanted to take a shot at writing a novel. He had doubts if he could make it as a novelist one day and not only be stuck churning out scripts for Hollywood. But his fiancée, Rachel McAdams, a practical woman couldn't get it, why he needs to move to Paris to write his novel when they are living cushy lives in the States already. But his surreal experience in the 40s had already changed him, he wanted to give his dream a shot. So he ended his engagement to his cheating girlfriend and decided that he will move to Paris. And one night he ran into the Parisian girl he met in a flea market, the one who loved the city like he does and the one who didn't mind walking in the rain.

Remembering both films have been inspiring. It makes me want to continue learning about this craft. Of pushing myself to be better. It is hard work really but I'd rather be doing this than something else. And when I'm in the doldrums again, I can tell myself that I'm never alone on this journey. There are also others like me, deep in thought, stringing out the most succinct words to get the most fluid of sentences and battering themselves over and over, asking themselves if they edited enough J

My ode to Running inspired by Haruki Murakami’s “What I talk about when I talk about Running”

I’m preparing myself for a 16K run early next year. And I’m also thinking of climbing another mountain or two in the summer. So to inspire myself again, I read Haruki Murakami’s “What I talk about when I talk about Running”. I have read this book before when I just started running, still in my early bout of 5Ks and have not set foot on a mountain. It had been inspiring then so to psyche myself up for a longer and harder endeavor next year, I read it again.

Hopefully, I’ll be more fit when that time comes. Lost some weight and more agile hauling myself up a steep slope and have enough endurance to get down without my husband or a guide assisting me. I also hope to be running the 16K with no walk breaks and cramp free. Tough goals, I know.

This book by Haruki Murakami had been an inspiration to me not only because of the author’s running experience but also because he talked about the role of running on his life as a novelist. As a writer, it was interesting to see what his thoughts were on running because for me, running had been a good distraction to my often needless fretting caused by concerns beyond my control. It had also been my metaphor for life, making me feel that if I can survive a couple of kilometers, I can survive anything.

Running also developed a mental toughness in me that wasn’t there before. I was never athletic, I’m more of a bookworm, I still am and have no sports whatsoever. Now, I run not only to clear my mind but to have a semblance of an exercise routine that includes the outdoors. Last May, I credit it big time for helping me down a 760 MASL mountain, when my heart was beating so fast and scared of cramping my foot in a forested area. Because I almost did get cramps, especially getting down the mountain, I controlled each step and tensed my foot muscle in the process . Without the training of running 10Ks, I’m not sure I could have made it down.

Of course, I’m not saying that I’m a superb runner. I could have a way better personal time but my goal for now is simple, to reach the finish line running, no walk breaks, no throwing in the towel. Of course, one day, I hope to run longer and faster if I have the time to train. But despite my not so stellar running goals, running has become part of my life. It had been my inspiration to finish something at all cost, be it a project or an essay. Like exhorting myself to cross a finish line whether limping from cramps or running like a fast wind, wow, that I haven’t done yet. And of course, to train hard, not to be a proud fool even if I ran a couple of 10Ks already.

Like an excerpt in Murakami’s book:

“For a runner like me, what’s really important is reaching the goal I set myself, under my own power. I give it everything I have, endure what needs enduring, and am able, in my own way, to be satisfied.”

“Most ordinary runners are motivated by an individual goal, more than anything; namely, a time they want to beat. As long as he can beat that time, a runner will feel he’s accomplished what he set out to do…Even if he doesn’t break the time he’d hope for, as long as he has the sense of satisfaction at having done his very best -and possibly made some significant discovery himself in the process -then that in itself is an accomplishment, a positive feeling he can carry over to the next race.”

What also struck me in this Haruki’s memoir is how he credited running in helping him deal with a toxin that supposedly writers battle in the process of writing.

“Basically, I agree with the view that writing novels is an unhealthy work. When we set off to write a novel, when we use writing to create a story, like it or not a kind of toxin that lies deep down in all humanity rises to surface. All writers have to come face-to-face with this toxin and aware of the danger involved, discover a way to deal with it, because otherwise no creative activity in the real sense can take place…”

“To deal with something unhealthy, a person needs to be as healthy as possible. That’s my motto. In other words, an unhealthy soul requires a healthy body…”

“Some writers who in their youth wrote wonderful, beautiful, powerful works find that when they reach a certain age exhaustion suddenly takes over. The term literary burnout is quite apt here…This results, I believe, from their physical energy not being able to overcome the toxin they’re dealing with. The physical vitality that up till now was naturally able to overcome the toxin has passed its peak, and its effectiveness in their immune systems is gradually wearing off. When this happens it’s difficult for a writer to remain intuitively creative… If possible, I’d like to avoid that kind of literary burnout”

I also liked the way he described writing as climbing a mountain. I also feel that way at times, when I have to  struggle at every sentence and grab for each appropriate word until I reach the end of the piece’s summit or conclusion.

“For me, writing a novel is like climbing a steep mountain, struggling up the face of the cliff, reaching the summit after a long and arduous ordeal. You overcome your limitations, or you don’t, one or the other. I always keep that inner image with me as I write.”

And how running like writing is not about impressing people but reaching personal goals.

“In the novelist’s profession, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as winning or losing. Maybe number of copies sold, awards won, and critic’s praise serve as outward standards for accomplishment in literature, but none of them really matter. What’s crucial is whether your writing attains the standards you’ve set for yourself.”

I’m sure I will re-read this book again when I want some inspiration on my writing and running. Hopefully, I can have his tenacity and joy for both. Murakami wrote this book while preparing for the New York Marathon, one of the 24 marathons he had participated in and while training for another triathlon race. An amazing book from an amazing man.

Messenger The Legacy of Mattie J.T. Stepanek and Heartsongs by Jeni Stepanek with Larry Lindner: A message of Peace and Hope

If you can, don’t read this book in public because it may be hard to explain the tears that may unconsciously slide down your cheeks. I read the first chapter inside a restaurant and I have to stop before get into the “ugly” cry as Oprah have said.

Reading the first few sentences about a mother preparing her youngest child’s burial, the toys he wanted put inside his casket and mentioning that she also buried her first three children because of the same illness can leave you reeling. I did. Oh dear, I thought, where are my d** tissues?! Maya Angelou’s foreword also made it difficult to keep back the brimming moisture in my eyes. So I put it down first so I wouldn’t look like I just broke up with someone.

I almost forgot about the book because I left it inside a shopping bag with the other stuff I bought that day. Then just as I was looking for one book I wanted to write about a blog post, I found it again and read it. Then I braced myself for more waterworks.

I knew how it was going to end, I knew it wouldn’t be happy sunshine, balloons and merrymaking and that made me read each chapter, each sentence, each word with intense and sad anticipation. This was a child who had the odds against him. Especially the odds of making it to his teens which was thought to be almost impossible medically. But he reached thirteen almost going on fourteen. All throughout the book, he had numerous close calls but came back until the time he really had to leave.

I saw Mattie Stepanek and his Heartsongs book in Oprah years ago. I cannot forget him because had this impish smile and an uncharacteristic wisdom when he speaks. I didn’t know that his condition was critical. He looked so happy, innocent and playful like a regular kid. And reading about the hardships he had gone through, the neverending hospital check-ups, the trach tubes, the church handouts, the death of his siblings, it was almost impossible to believe that he was not bitter about life and even encouraged others to play after every storm.

Mattie was a vessel that poured himself, fully and unselfishly to others despite his sickness. He valiantly gave himself while battling his own pain and that’s what made his message special. He was an unlikely source. Facing his own mortality at a young age, Mattie still found the beauty of life even with a glimpse of a sunrise. For me, he truly was a messenger.

“I don’t think they understand what it’s like to live your life so fast…my life here won’t last….I get scared about the pain of dying and about what I will miss because I love living so, so, so much….I want to leave so many gifts for people to have when I’m not here anymore.…I want people to remember me someday and say, Oh, yes! Mattie! He was a poet, a peacemaker, and a philosopher who played.”

Honestly, I have never read a book that made me sob from start to finish. I finished it in two sittings, the last one I read until 3 am with my eyes sore from crying. I was surprised at myself because I thought I was a little jaded already. But there I was sitting on the floor in the wee hours of the morning sniffling away. Was it because it was a story of a mother like me telling the journey of his son in this life or was it because Mattie’s message of peace and hope radiated with so much light, it made it hard for me not to sit back, listen and take heart? Maybe both.

Looking back, there were so many parts on this book that stirred me and I found quite memorable. So I hope you can read it in its entirety to appreciate it more. Mattie's poetry was beautiful and his many achievements in his short life were astounding and inspiring. Here are more excerpts from the book:

“Regardless of how you pray, he said, regardless of the name you choose or are raised with to call the “supreme being”, what matters most is using prayerfulness to become a good person, a better person…"

“…he explained, just because someone’s religion might be a different kind of Christianity or did not embrace Jesus as the Savior, in no way did he think that it meant he or she was loved any less by God. Being a good person, he said was what mattered the most.”

“…he was passionate about turning people toward something greater than themselves. To be your best self, he said, you had to recognize consciously that you were part of something that went beyond you. You could not be your best self in isolation because achieving that goal required reaching out to, encouraging and supporting your neighbor to be his best self.”

I love this part.

“It was to Mattie’s mind, a collaboration that required learning about one’s neighbor-his preferences, strengths and needs-and then working with that person to meet everyone’s needs, involving the whole world in the effort. When basic needs are met - food, water, safety, shelter, medical care, education, hope and happiness - peace follows, Mattie said. He was in fact, working to encourage people to leave the best legacy they could possibly could, to recognize their purpose on earth and follow through by understanding that it connects with everyone else’s.”

It’s hard not to get emotional about this book or maybe it’s just me. But whatever it is, I found another hero in this book aside from Mattie. His mother, Jen Stepanek. To have that indomitable spirit, that resolute strength is quite an inspiration. Mattie’s journey wouldn’t be complete without her. She had been his rock, his confidante, his best friend. They cried and laughed together amid all his trials. And in every crisis she steadily stood by him. I pray that I can be half the mother she is.

Right now, she battles with the adult form of Mattie’s disease but she still continues to spread his message. I wish her continuous strength in mind, heart and body. And I thank her for giving us this book and letting us see how special Mattie really was and still is. Thank you, Jen and Mattie. May your message of peace and hope spread as wide and as clear as you hope it to be. (www.mattieonline.com)

My thoughts on The Dark Knight Rises

I’m not a fan of the Batman movies, I just like watching its action sequences. So this is not the “Man, that was awesome” review kind of thing. This is just my ten cents worth because it still made an impact on me. Maybe because it was probably one of the disturbing pieces I have seen lately and its connection with the Colorado shooting didn’t help. 

Moreover, like one film reviewer said, there was more yin and more yin in it. And I agree, you don't leave the theater quite satisfied that evil was triumphantly vanquished especially after so much horror Bane brought the city in. The climax of this character with Batman could have been more explosive or grandiose. Batman could have ended this evil with the same measure it has wreaked horror and dread among the people.

I know Batman lives in the shadows and Christopher Nolan thrives in it. He, who has created a dark world with tortured characters in chiseled costumes and unsettling face paint. He creates dread like he revels in it. His Joker is still one of the most eerie villains in superhero film history and Bane another monstrosity that strikes fear in you with its sheer heft and power, a formidable enemy to Batman physically. His Darth Vader and Hannibal Lecter type contraption also made Bane's voice more ominous, layering more evil to his imposing size.

If you want to talk about darkness, this film has it, the darkness of the soul, the fear, the lies, the deceit. It is as dark as Gotham gets. Good thing, there are scenes in daylight otherwise, if it was almost shot at night, it would have been more bleak. But the action sequences were good. The chase, the fighting and the Batman vehicles, his hovercraft like machine was unlike anything I ever saw. Quite imaginative, letting the comic book inspired side of the franchise come to life.

Though, I did not leave the theater exactly glowing, I will choose to remember the good parts I saw. The light that came with the dark, as thin as it is compared to the overall darkness. Michael Caine’s concern for Bruce Wayne like a father to a son was heartfelt, it was a surprise but a good one at that. As a parent I know I would feel the same. Then the comeback of Bruce/Batman after Bane broke him physically and psychically was also good. His personal triumph and his escape were inspiring, overcoming the almost insurmountable. I liked that. Also Joseph Gordon Levitt’s moving performance as a police officer with Bruce Wayne was good too.

With the women, well, I’m sorry, I will always like Michelle Pfeiffer’s Catwoman so Anne Hathaway’s version was just good enough for me. Maybe remembering her as Princess Mia in the Princess Diaries was distracting. Maybe Marion Cotillard could have tried the catsuit, I don’t know, for a change maybe. Because after watching her performance in the French film Le Vie En Rose, her acting here was underutilized.  And the end of her character like Bane was also unsatisfying. Like the writer-director was hesitant to end his evil creations with a bang.

I know Christopher Nolan’s Batman is supposed to be broody and angsty. That his Batman films are a different take on superhero films. Yes, I commend him on that. He veered off from the cartoony and fantastic superhero films of old.  But if highlighting this angst would be the trademark for other future superhero films then I find that a little disturbing.

Superheroes are supposed to bring light and hope to humanity not reflect its desperation, fear and anger with graphic intensity.  We have so much of that in the real world, thank you very much. Good thing, the Avengers brought that piece of hope to us even if it looked like a little boy’s action figures come to life stupendous fantasy while Spiderman teetered on the brink exploring teenage angst while hanging on to his Uncle Ben’s adage, with great power comes great responsibility. Bless Martin Sheen for his performance there.

So if I’m holding my breath on Nolan’s Superman next year. I’m not really sure. I saw a clip of Clark on a boat, like a fisherman. Hmm...Ocean and Superman, interesting. Fine, I’ll suspend my judgment after I watch it. But if Nolan brings about the angst again, the tortured soul bit, or his grand scale evil, I sure hope he counteracts it with the same balance or maybe greater display of heart bursting, panoramic combustion of the triumph of goodness, of hope because in the real world, it is something most of us still hang on to. 

The Best of This is a Crazy Planets by Lourd Ernest H. de Veyra: Acerbic and Funny

I wanted to write about this book immediately after reading it because it’s one of the most hilarious local book I’ve read in a while. I have always been a fan of nonfiction and collected essays like those of columnist, Jessica Zafra and my favorite Filipina writer, the late Kerima Polotan.

So this was a real treat. But writing about a book with an author who drops quotations from Oscar Wilde and Chekhov and can write in the vernacular as if he was just a local “kanto boy” and not educated in one of the top schools of the country with a journalism degree is honestly, intimidating. Because more than that, he is a multi-awarded Palanca winner too.

Compared to him, my prose reads juvenile, like a poser, unworthy of giving comments to his book. To write well in English and Filipino with humorous sarcasm is genius. Honestly, I haven’t encountered anyone who writes well in both languages, I mean one that is relatable and entertaining, not purely high brow. And to write like he does, you must have a good grasp of both languages and a strong pulse of the Filipino culture.

Anyway, I saw his book on my way to the counter of National Bookstore. I got curious when I read a caption on the blurb, “Umasal Lamang Nang Ayon sa Ganda” loosely translated as “Act according to your level of beauty” Okay, the translation doesn’t sound as good, it lacks punch. But it piqued my interest so I bought it.

When I read that post, it’s like whoa! Who the hell tells you that? To “berate” you for acting bratty or entitled, reminding you that your beauty didn’t launch a million spaceships so please act accordingly.  The nerve right? But I found it hilarious…the gall of this man to tell Filipina women who spent thousands downing glutathione pills, lathering whitening lotion on their skin and primping themselves to their heart’s content to act according to their level beauty? Well, he just did. You either love him or hate him on this piece. 

Then he also talks about other things like the Pacquiaos:

 ”This is the Philippines, where the boundaries between showbiz, sports and politics become blurry by the television minute. We cannot seem to be content with the idea of the champion achieving superhuman greatness all by himself. We like to humanize him. It also helps that the mother is quite a character, whose praying-and-braying-and “Omigod-I’m-having-a seizure” act matches the intensity of her son’s title match.”

And one of my favorites, his “Taxi Drivers from Hell”

“This is the ironclad rule of life: at that moment when you desperately, piss-in-your-pants need a cab, you’ll never get one. When you don’t they’re all meekly parading in front of you.”

“,,some of the major cabbie classifications: The Hustler- Like beasts of prey they’ll pounce on you when you’re desperate and helpless-i.e. laden with 10 shopping bags and big-ass pizza box. And it’s raining. Sonofabitch will charge P400 for a ride that costs only P60. There is a wonderful place in hell reserved for these lovable creatures.”

And before Pnoy became president, he had this piece, “On Noynoy and Kris: Shup Up, Little Sister”

“Noynoy isn’t even President but instead of platform and agenda for changes, all his youngest sister can ever talk about is his receding hairline, his awful pleated pants, and how she’s consulting with comedian and wig-store owner Arnell Ignacio about matters follicular.”

“…we can’t help but give the following suggestions should he become the second President Aquino:

-          Issue gag order on youngest sister-on whatever subject. Especially that schtick about her being a young Ninoy and her mother’s favorite: Before she completely smears family name.

-          Exile youngest sister to obscure African country (preferably one with a protractedly bloody civil strife) if she does not shut up.

-          On second thought: just banish youngest sister, given her propensity for periodic involvements in truly embarrassing scandals."

There are still a lot of hilarious pieces written well in both English and Filipino, those with shards of truth about Filipino culture and society dressed in caustic humor. It’s one of the most entertaining Filipino essay collection I have ever read, something I won’t mind reading again when I’m bored waiting in line (yes, I also read standing up) or when I want to cheer myself up after my son’s passing tantrums. It’s one of those books I don’t always come across with, acerbic and funny.

Big Miracle: Soviets helped save whales in American waters

It was not a box-office hit. It wasn’t even talked about much. Maybe because the trailer wasn’t that exciting.  Or limited promotions were done. Too bad. It was a good film based on a true stoy. Yes, Drew Barrymore was there letting you think that this was another syrupy rom com but it’s not. 

Centerstage were the three grey whales trapped in a land of solid snow with only a large hole to breathe in. They weren’t able to get out of their feeding grounds in time for their migration to Baja, Mexico.

Three whales trapped in snow was the story. And everyone wanted a piece of it. The media, the government, Greenpeace. I read that there were hundreds of whales being killed in Iceland that time according to a former Greenpeace person, the time of the Reagan administration but the public was more interested in those three whales. http://www.greenpeace.org/international/en/news/Blogs/makingwaves/the-big-picture-behind-big-miracle/blog/38821/ And almost everyone all over the world covered it even the Filipinos. I heard someone reporting in Tagalog J

And time was running out. The artic chill, was getting heavier threatening to solidify the hole, threatening the survival of the whales. It was already 50 to 70 degrees below zero. Anyway, everyone wants to be part of the whale rescue for PR purposes even the oil company who won a bidding contract to drill in Alaska. They even sent a hoverbarge which unfortunately crashed while being towed in a helicopter by the National Guard.

However, as Nature became the unlikely villain, there were unlikely heroes too, like the Eskimos particularly the Inupiat tribe who are known whale hunters. They used their chainsaws to prevent the hole from solidifying plus the two men in Minnesota who flew to there to donate and use their de-icing machine and of course, the Soviet icebreaker. It was the nearest icebreaker in the area and it was urgently needed because there was a dominant ice ridge separating the land from the ocean.

A Soviet ship entering American waters was supposedly not a possibility because it was the time of the Cold War. Russia and the US were almost mortal enemies then. There should be no way that would happen even if hell freezes over but it did. And that was the big miracle. Added to that is the surprising cooperation of certain people you wouldn't imagine working together, the media, the government, the oil company, Greenpeace, the Eskimos. Together, they drilled holes in the snow so the whales can safely go back to the ocean.

Unfortunately, one of the whales did not make it. But the other two did. But the story was more than the whales, it was the people around it. The whales became the cause that people with different ideologies, beliefs, some enemies in fact, worked together for. That was the bigger story.

With the world in constant turmoil, a story like this becomes a reminder that this can happen, that we can work together for something good despite our differences. That we can set aside our grudges for one another and work together to alleviate any pain we are witnessing in the world. That if we collectively believe in something, we can be united. And one day, if we work together to push reforms that would benefit many people, many endangered animals and even the environment, that would even be a bigger miracle.