Thursday, April 15, 2010

Stanley Cup Playoffs

The most beautiful game in the world.

While soccer (or football as everyone else in the world calls it) is indeed a beautiful game, hockey, I would argue, is the most beautiful. Every movement is minute but massive in its importance. The puck is behind your stick, but you stretch out your leg, kick with your blade, and push it onto the tape.

Tonight, after my beautiful Florida evening walk I came back inside and watch the third period and subsequently, the overtime period of game one between my Habs and the Washington Capitols.

I was nervous. Overtime in the Stanley Cup Playoffs is a 20-minute period where the first goal wins. Failure to score in the first overtime period leads to another period and after that another and another until someone scores. The Canadiens outshot the Capitols throughout the overtime period yet I was nervous. I saw one lucky bounce, one beautiful shot that could ruin the first game. I knew that the Habs had to win. It was a matter of understanding. As the 8-seed, they were the last team into the playoffs, but they have heart and I knew one win would change everything. One win gives them hope. "We have them in a corner. They've lost one at home. The invincible Caps have lost one at home. One more here, then two in Montreal. Montreal, largest rink in the NHL. 21,000 screaming fans. Packed. Obsessed. Knowledgeable and devoted beyond belief."



Tonight's game was marvelous. It reminds me why I love hockey. The speed of the game, the beauty of a crisp pass, a well-placed dump into the corner, the exhilaration of a glove save.

Tomas Plekanec, Czech, Olympic star, Habs star, moved down the ice and weaved and found himself with room to shoot. He rolled the puck onto his stick and fired over Jose Theodore's left shoulder and the crowd grew silent.

The Habs won and I cheered! I jumped up and down, I slapped the TV. I chanted the Habs traditional chant, "Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole!!! Ole, Ole!!!!" I smiled.

It's two months until I play hockey again. Two months until the rink re-opens and I can lace up the skates. I miss the speed. The feeling of the wind against my cheeks as I glide over the ice. Every other sport is slow in comparison. I miss the feel of the stick, the weight of the puck. I miss keeping my head up, moving into position, bursting ahead. I can't wait to play again. The Habs game tonight made me happy that there are two months of Stanley Cup hockey to go. The Stanley Cup playoffs will finish just as the summer leagues begin. I can't contain my excitement!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The Greatness of Professor Snape

There are many great, outstanding, beautifully and lovingly created fictional characters but there is one, above all others, who stands out for me.

He is a largely vindictive man. He seems filled with a hatred for the story's protagonist. He challenges the character's perceived strengths, questions his work ethic and lives with a dark sneer across his face. He shutters his office behind dark curtains and towards the end of the story, he kills one of its heroes.

The man, of course, is Professor Severus Snape in the Harry Potter books. An unlikely character, indeed, but, in the end, one of the most beautiful, powerful characters ever put on paper. Professor Snape is a man you, as the reader, are told to dislike. He isn't friendly, he isn't a fan of our protagonist, Harry Potter. He is one of Harry's greatest enemies. He constantly locks Harry in detention and seems to hate Harry with every ounce of his heart. And in the sixth book of the series, Professor Snape kills Professor Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower. This is a powerful, breaking moment, for Professor Snape, I believe, always had two camps of readers: those who believed he was indeed a converted Death Eater, a good guy, and those who believed he was bad to the core and had hoodwinked Dumbledore into believing he was a changed man because of Dumbledore's insistence on finding the best in everyone.

Professor Snape, it seemed at this point, was a man who embodied the worst characters traits of humanity. He was, apparently, a liar, a spy, a killer. A shameless, cowardly man. But there are hints, looking through the sixth book, that Snape is not what he seems.

As Harry chases Snape through the grounds of Hogwarts he calls Snape a coward. Snape rounds on him, a fire in his eyes, and says, pointing his wand at Harry, "Don't call me a COWARD!"

This scene seems insignificant at the time. But when one knows of Snape's goodness, only truly revealed at the end of the seventh book, it is a powerful scene.

At the end of the seventh and final book in the series, Professor Snape is killed by Lord Voldemort's snake, Nagini. As he lies on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, dying, Harry approaches him from his hiding place and Professor Snape asks Harry to take the memory now leaking out of his body. Hermone conjures a vial for Harry, who takes the memory. As Snape breathes his last breath he asks Harry to look at him, "Look...at...me."

As Harry stirs the contents of Snape's memories into the Pensieve at Hogwarts, he witnesses his mother, Lilly, and young Severus bonding. Severus, a poorly-dressed young wizard, realizes that Lilly, the object of his affection, isn't an ordinary girl, but has magical abilities, like himself. He tells her about Hogwarts and when she is called to Gryffindor house his sadness is evident on his face.

Through his memories, we see Severus' and Lilly's relationship blossom. They are friends, best friends despite living in different houses. As Lord Voldemort gains strength, Severus becomes entangled in the Death Eaters and his relationship with Lilly is severed when, in a fit of rage at being bullied by James Potter (Harry's father-to-be) and his friends, Severus calls Lilly a "mudblood," a derogatory term for a wizard or witch with regular "muggle" blood in them.

We see Severus, a few years later, listening to Professor Trewlaney proclaim that the young Harry Potter will be the one to challenge Lord Voldemort and Severus informs Voldemort of this prophecy. Suddenly, Snape realizes his mistake, for Harry is the son of Lilly, and he fears that Voldemort, in his furious power, will attempt to kill Harry and in the course of doing so, will kill Lilly as well. For Snape, though a Death Eater and a follower of dark magic, is also still madly in love with Lilly Potter. He flees to Professor Dumbledore, the head of Hogwarts and the most powerful wizard in the world, and asks him to protect Lilly. Dumbledore looks at Snape and says, "What of Lilly's husband James and their son, Harry." Snape, who was bullied by James Potter in school is reluctant to care, but in the end, says that he would rather they all be saved than have Lilly in danger.

When Lilly and James are killed, Severus Snape forever vows to Professor Dumbledore that he will work against Lord Voldemort and that he will always protect Harry Potter.

We see Severus discussing Malfoy's task, given him by Voldemort, to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore insists that he will die within the year due to a curse he received, and suggests that Snape must be the one to kill him in order to maintain Malfoy's innocence. We see Snape as a man reluctant to do Dumbledore's insistent deed. He is a man tortured by having to kill a man who means so much to him, who offered him a home when he had none, who offered him redemption and a second chance. A man who believed in him.

Suddenly, we understand, as readers, why Severus Snape declared so fervently that he wasn't a coward. And we understand why he asks Harry to look in his eyes, for Harry has Lilly's eyes, the eyes of the woman Snape always loved unconditionally.


The strength of Professor Snape is magnified by Dumbledore's message to Harry: that some magic is more powerful than anything Voldemort could imagine. That love, the magic that protected Harry when Voldemort first tried to kill him, that inspired Severus Snape to forever repent for his deeds and serve ably as a spy against Voldemort, is the most powerful force in the world.

Snape, dark and brooding as he is, is a man madly in love with a woman long passed on because of his actions. He is a tortured soul, and a brave, brave man. His redemption, seen at the end of Harry's journey, is a beautiful thing to behold. He is the epitome of love and bravery. As a result, Professor Snape stands above all other fictional characters because of his complexity, his brooding darkness and his enlightening motivation. He is a character that reminds us of everything we fight for every day, and he is a man who Harry recognizes at the end of The Deathly Hallows, the seventh and final book of the series.

Harry's young son, Albus, is afraid that he will be in Slytherin House rather than in Gryffindor.

"'Albus Severus,' Harry said quietly, so that nobody but Ginny could hear, and she was tactful enough to pretend to be waving to Rose, who was now on the train, 'you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. one of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.'"

The enduring message of Harry Potter is carried through Severus Snape - it isn't a story, in the end, about good over evil. It isn't about wizards and witches. It is, in the end, about love, and while Harry Potter may seem to be the protagonist of the story, the series' author, J.K. Rowling offers a differing belief: "the series is built around Dumbledore and Snape."

I agree.

Under The Volcano

I love to read. I read every single day and I've been trying, over the years, to tackle the greatest books of all time. I was inspired in France.

I had just finished my junior year of college and broke up with my girlfriend of nearly three years. I did so out of necessity for myself. I had allowed her to transform me into someone that I wasn't. I was glad to be over the relationship and free. I looked forward to studying abroad in France and finally picked up Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham.

My father had given me Of Human Bondage when I graduated from high school, and I wish I had read it before college. I tackled it slowly over the summer before going to France as a senior in college and was only about a quarter of the way through when I arrived in Aix-en-Provence. But I quickly fell in love once I was in France. The book spoke to me like none before had. It was a tale of a man who falls desperately in love with a woman who is simply bad for him. She saps him of his lifeblood, of his money, of everything. And yet, after she cheats on him and leaves him, when she comes crawling back, he takes her in only to finally realize how wrong she is for him after too many years of torture and hell. It was an inspiration. A hundred years ago Maugham wrote Of Human Bondage and it's message was relevant to my life today. It was one of the Modern Library's list of the 100 greatest books of the 20th century and I soon delved into the others.

Over time I've discovered that there are great books in all corners. I love fast-paced, action-filled books and I love slow-burners like Sons and Lovers.

I recently watched "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" and immediately sought out the final two books of the Harry Potter series. I once again fell in love. And now, here in Florida, I'm working on Malcom Lowry's Under The Volcano. I hope it is as great as it sounds. So far it is funny, sad, and beautiful.

Evening in Florida

Evening in Florida is perhaps my favorite time of all the times of day around the world.

The sun is loathe to leave the day. It hovers far longer in the sky than it does in Vermont and seems to slow in its fall towards the horizon as day becomes night. The last vestiges of sun cling to the treetops and then the sun is gone, only to be seen again in the clouds that turn orange in the evening sky even as Venus winks at me below in the streets.

I always walk at night in Florida. I enjoy the breeze that comes in off the ocean, the sun on the clouds, the humidity that hugs but does not cling. I feel my feet on the concrete of the street and I hear the swaying of the palm's leaves in the wind. I walk at night and I think.

Night is an amazing time to think. I found myself, last night, walking and thinking of France. I reminisced on the cobblestone streets, on nights spent clubbing, dancing to house music that throbbed and pulsed, alive with heavy bass and schizophrenic beats. I thought about going to Dublin and wearing nothing but a Polo shirt in the cold October night. The first time I hiked St. Victoire and the time I sat at the cafe on a Saturday morning, sharing music with Melanie on our laptops.

The cool night air blessed my face, made me feel alive. Made everything okay. Thought about everything and felt bliss, a sense of self. Felt great.