by Tom Harvey
Speaking of slicked back hair, the Chuck Norris of the eighties has to be Steven Seagal. When the 1988 movie, Above The Law, hit the video shelves, we had six copies at National Home Video–which was a lot–and those VHS’ rented nonstop for nearly a year. Mr. Seagal was a svelte, almost feminine, tough guy. With his jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail and scowl that looked like he had just stepped in pile of dog-shit, the guy was cool. I stopped watching his movies eventually. They were all pretty much the same story rehashed over and over and it worked when he was thin–not so much as the Pillsbury Doughboy.
The movie that was actually life threatening to see in the theater in 1988 was Colors. This movie introduced the world to the turf battles of the very real Bloods and Crips in Los Angeles. Real life fights and gunfire broke out in some L.A. theaters. When it came out on video, we had a serious discussion whether we should carry it. We didn’t know if gangbangers in the San Fernando Valley rented movies and didn’t really want to find out. (We did end up stocking it without incident.) Not that I like the movie for its glorification of violence. The brilliance is the real humanness of the characters. Some of the bad guys aren’t that bad, and some of the good guys are far from good. Throw in a page from To Live and Die In LA.,–namely, the good guy punching his ticket to the next life at the end–and the movie remains tragic and memorable. I also love the title song by Ice-T.
Honorable mentions:
The Shining (1980 horror): From the mastermind Stephen King himself. Jack Nicholson at his best. To this day, I occasionally talk with my index finger.
Caveman (1981 comedy): Really doesn’t belong on this list but the fact it had all the junior high boys speaking caveman–specifically the word zug-zug–when looking at a pretty girl deserves some sort of recognition. It also had a fart scene and, let’s face it, in 1981 there weren’t that many flatulent scenes (outside of Blazing Saddles I can’t think of one).
Stripes (1981 comedy): With the lovable Bill Murray and Harold Ramis–Sergeant Hulka for President!–who would team up again in Ghostbusters.
Poltergeist (1982 horror): Movie where a piece of meat crawls across the table and bursts into a churning pile of maggots. That may have been the #1 topic of conversation during recess that year. That, and well-endowed seventh grader Wendy’s boobs.
An Officer and a Gentleman (1982 drama): Where a loser ultimately succeeds and gets the girl, despite getting kicked in the balls–literally–along the way. My favorite line is the whiny, “I’ve changed, sir! I’ve changed!”
All The Right Moves (1983 drama): High school football and coming-of-age in a poor Pennsylvania steel town. Admittedly, I am a huge Tom Cruise fan and this isn’t even his best eighties film by any stretch–Risky Business (any movie with Guido the Killer Pimp has to be good) and Born On The Fourth of July come to mind–but one scene in this movie steals the show. Tom’s character is so pissed off that he can’t even articulate words and takes his frustration out by sprinting away down the dark, wet street. Every seventeen-year-old guy can relate to this moment of ultimate frustration. If you pause the movie at just the right moment, it’s rumored you can see Tom’s Johnson … not that I’ve ever tried.
Ghostbusters (1984 comedy): This movie was so good it made the sequel look very, very bad. Saw it twice in the theater.
The Goonies (1985 comedy/adventure): With names like Chunk, Sloth, the “Where’s The Beef?” lady, the kid from Rudy and Steve Antin, this movie’s a winner.
Weird Science (1985 comedy): With the beautiful Kelly LeBrock, another John Hughes classic. Begged the question why anyone would be a wanker in front of her.
Fletch (1985 comedy): With the bumbling, stumbling Chevy Chase. One of his best works.
Casual Sex? (1988 comedy): One of the few Andrew “the Dice Man” Clay movies that exist. I saw this movie with my friend Katherine. We needed a laugh after I was on the receiving end of a traffic ticket from two motorcycle cops–illegal u-turn–while she did everything in her power to hide the six pack of Lucky Lager on the floorboard. We did have casual sex that night so, all in all, the evening wasn’t a total bust.
Dead Poet’s Society (1989 drama/feel good movie): Robin Williams’ “carpe diem” speech still gives me goose bumps.
Ten more I love then I’ll stop:
Stir Crazy (1980 comedy)
History of the World, Part 1 (1981 comedy)
Heavy Metal (1981 animated adult)
Escape from New York (1981 action)
The Dead Zone (1983 drama)
A Christmas Story (1983 comedy)
Mr. Mom (1983 comedy)
Purple Rain (1984 drama)
After Hours (1985 comedy)
Say Anything (1989 comedy/romance)
HOMAGE TO A FRIEND:
It finally happened.
At work, the email subject line from Mike read: Sad News. Clicking on the link brought me to the Visalia Times Delta obituaries.
Ryan Bernasconi, a Visalia police officer who fought cancer since 2001, died Tuesday. He was 39.
This makes Ryan the first death out of the Monache High School graduating class of 1986. The first that I’m aware of and I’ve kept dibs on the local hometown of Porterville through the local newspaper’s online obituary. Morbid checking the online obituaries on a daily basis? Perhaps, but somehow necessary.
As I sit here at my desk in Seattle, a thousand miles away from the Central Valley, I’m surprised at how sad this news makes me. I’m even more upset that my schedule won’t allow me to attend his funeral two days from now. The funny thing is, I hadn’t seen Ryan in twenty years. Funnier still, when we first met, we didn’t even like each other.
My family moved to Porterville when I was twelve. Showing up ten days into the sixth grade year, unfortunately for me, made me the “new kid.” The morning of the very first day, Ryan and a couple of guys asked if I could throw a football. I smiled and said nothing. I think a few of them felt threatened by me as an unknown factor and soon Ryan and I had tension between us. He made a crack about my long hair and name: “Tom-Ass.” I made a remark about his last name and he invited me to meet him after school to settle some things. I wasn’t much of a fighter and replied, “I ride the bus.” Within days, we were friends.
In junior high, we played on the flag football team together (we went 5-1) but Ryan was much more competitive than I was and went on to play basketball and baseball.
In high school, we tried out for the freshman football team. Tried out isn’t exactly the truth, though, since everyone made the team. He quickly rose to quarterback, Number 15, while I struggled at the thankless position of defensive cornerback, Number 21. It didn’t matter that we only won one game out of ten that year. We were fourteen years old. Competing, checking out the cheerleaders, getting to know all the new kids in the universe known as high school. We were immortal.
I can’t say that Ryan and I were the best of friends through school. That simply wouldn’t be the truth. But we did share the formidable years of twelve to eighteen and there’s a lot of growing up in those six irreplaceable, precious years. He dated and ended up marrying Deanna Hall, a girl that I’d also known since the sixth grade. Together they radiated a genuine bond of love. When two good people come together, well, that’s a pretty special thing.
So I sit here at my desk in Seattle, twenty years removed from those times and I mourn the loss of someone I haven’t seen or talked to in twenty years. He had been battling cancer for five years and I didn’t even know he was sick. The paper says he has a son, Tyler, twelve, and a daughter, Krysta, eight. Synovial Cell Sarcoma took their daddy away and here I sit claiming to have a right to my grief.
What gives me the right to feel sad?
I’d say that a person is nothing more than a collection of the memories he makes. I lost a rare someone who goes back to my junior high and high school days. This feeling of sadness is that with his death a part of me has died as well. How many guys have I known since I was twelve? The list is short
and now it’s one gaping hole shorter. It’s a feeling of helplessness, knowing that his death by this terrible, rare cancer was nothing more than cruel randomness. Looking at his young, smiling face in our Senior Class yearbook, there was no way of knowing he wouldn’t make it to our twenty-year reunion. It could have been any one of the two hundred ninety graduates of the class of 1986. For some reason, it was him.
I grieve for his children I’ve never met. I can’t claim to know how they feel even though I lost my dad when I was ten. I had the luxury of distance and trauma–my dad lived a thousand miles away, and a single, accidental gunshot took his life. For me, he just wasn’t there anymore. For Tyler and Krysta, they had to say their goodbyes and I’m sure that’s infinitely worse. When my dad died, no one came forward to tell me what a great guy he was, that was left largely to my limited memories and imagination. For Tyler and Krysta Bernasconi, though, I have the ability–I have the obligation–to tell them about their dad.
When he was twelve.
When he was fifteen.
When he was eighteen.
Something tells me he was a topnotch police officer, a loving husband, a wonderful dad. Something in my soul knows these things as fact. He was on the Board of the Visalia Wish Upon A Star organization, a foundation sponsored by California Law Enforcement personnel dedicated to granting wishes to children with catastrophic illnesses. This makes me smile.
It will take time for me to get over Ryan’s death, though I will always be sad knowing that he was the first of the Monache High School class of 1986 to leave us.
God speed Ryan Bernasconi.
May 10, 2006
Research Reading
20th Century Pop Culture: The 80s by Dan Epstein, Publisher: Chelsea House Publications
A Cultural History of the United State Through the Decades: The 1980s by Stuart A. Kallen, Publisher: Lucent Books
American Popular Culture Through History: The 1980s by Bob Batchelor and Scott Stoddart, Publisher: Greenwood
Generation of Swine–Tales of Shame and Degradation in the ‘80s by Hunter S. Thompson, Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Remember the 80s: Now That’s What I Call Nostalgia! by Richard Evans, Publisher: Anova Books
Talking to Girls About Duran Duran: One Young Man’s Quest for True Love and a Cooler Haircut by Rob Sheffield, Publisher: Dutton Adult
The Eighties: A Reader by Gilbert T. Sewall, Publisher: Da Capo Press
Totally Awesome 80s by Matthew Rettenmund, Publisher: St. Martin’s Griffin
Books That Made Me a Better Writer
Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom, Publisher: Broadway
Just a Man: The Real Michael Hutchence by Tina Hutchence and Patricia Glassop, Publisher: Pan Books
Cash: The Autobiography by Johnny Cash, Publisher: HarperOne
Love Is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time by Rob Sheffield, Publisher: Three Rivers Press
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid: A Memoir by Bill Bryson, Publisher: Broadway
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King, Publisher: Scribner
On Writing Well: An Informal Guide to Writing Nonfiction by William Zinsser, Publisher: Harper Paperbacks
Writing About Your Life: A Journey into the Past by William Zinsser, Publisher: Da Capo Press
Inventing the Truth: The Art and Craft of Memoir edited by William Zinsser, Publisher: Mariner Books
How To Write a Memoir by William Zinsser, Publisher: HarperAudio
Writing To Learn by William Zinsser, Publisher: Harper Paperbacks
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, Publisher: Random House.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s: A Short Novel and Three Stories by Truman Capote, Publisher: Modern Library
A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Bryson, Publisher: Anchor
Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, Publisher: Anchor
Honeymoon with My Brother by Franz Wisner, Publisher: St. Martin’s Griffin
The Tender Bar: A Memoir by J.R. Moehringer, Publisher: Hyperion
How the World Makes Love … And What It Taught a Jilted Groom by Franz Wisner, Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Red: My Uncensored Life in Rock by Sammy Hagar, Publisher: It Books
Still Me by Christopher Reeve, Publisher: Ballantine Books
Nothing Is Impossible: Reflections on a New Life by Christopher Reeve, Publisher: Random House
Kiss Me Like A Stranger: My Search for Love and Art by Gene Wilder, Publisher: St. Martin’s Griffin
Monster: The Autobiography of an L.A. Gang Member by Sanyika Shakur, Publisher: Grove Press
Good Rockin’ Tonight: Twenty Years on the Road and on the Town With Elvis by Joe Esposito and Elena Oumano, Publisher: Avon Books
Still Life with Chickens: Starting Over in a House by the Sea by Catherine Goldhammer, Publisher: Plume
No Angel: My Harrowing Undercover Journey to the Inner Circle of the Hells Angels by Jay Dobyns and Nils Johnson-Shelton, Publisher: Broadway
Rawhide Down: The Near Assassination of Ronald Reagan by Del Quentin Wilber, Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.
Bossypants by Tina Fey, Publisher: Reagan Arthur Books
The Tylenol Mafia: Marketing, Murder, and Johnson & Johnson by Scott Bartz, Publisher: CreateSpace
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First and foremost, I thank my wife, Susan, for her never ending love and support. Every night ends and every day begins with a kiss. Her almost childlike love and fascination with life is a daily inspiration to me.
To Margaret Land, my dear friend, former teacher, and mentor. Margaret taught me the comma rules in the tenth grade and, along the way, how to read and write critically.
My small circle of readers, turning the first-pass rock into a gem: Deanna Bernasconi, Chris Turner, and Chaz Serame. You guys will be thanked twice, incidentally.
My friends from the Good Old Days: John Flower (premierautovisalia.com), Mike Wells (the only guy I know who can do a back flip), Ed Hughes (the only guy I know who aced the SAT; also has impeccable taste in music and women), Alex Fermin (the greatest break dancer in a fifty-mile radius of Porterville back in the day), Tim “Bulldog” Miller (most talented sculptor in the world at tkmiller.com), Kellie Pengilly-Kroutil, Emerson Racca, Staci Noel, Deanna Bernasconi, the late Ryan Bernasconi, Donna Garrett-France, David Fine, David Facio, Leonard Pesta, Mike McMaster, Gina Pitigliano, the late Roxanne Ward, Richie Morris, Allen Raye, Sherman Smith, Bill Bushey, Eric Streiff, Don Johnson, Betsy Slattery, Ramiro Rodriguez, Cheryl Strong, Mari Deisman, Jennifer Sattler-Dalrymple, Kris Lambert, Brock Bovetti, Philip Gutzwiller, Frank Tate, Ruben Zamora, Ruben Castillo, Cruz Hernandez, Jaime Smith, Brendan Toney, Mike Watson, Ryan Todd, Bruce Havens, Hugh Callison, Mark Witcher, Mark Geistlinger, Jaime Chambers-Campbell, Brian Massey, Art Cain, Ken Cauwet, Robb Rugeroni, Wendy Ziebell, Linda Petrucelli-Swofford, Vicki Gentry, Mary Wobrock, Kelly Julian, Janette Waters, Kevin Barber, Mark Avila, James Avila, Russell Lentz, Melinda Horn, Jim “Big Blue” Lampman, Kevin “Snip Me Off” Moody, Richard Miguel, Keith “Stormin’” Norman, Jason Burns, Shawnie Gunn, Valerie Landsen-Duncan, Charlynn Weaver-Davidson, Stacy Tandy, Maureen Speakman-Waite, Chad Perigo, Phillip Smalley, Billy Thompson, Paula Zaninovich, Debbie Davila-O’Bosky, Darrell Latham, Crystal Claborn-Milinich, Kip Fallert, Shelley Furr, Diana ChaCha Oceguera, Serina Creekmore-Leslie, Katie Nutting-Moore, Tim Paul, Melissa Gregg-Cabral, Val Cowan, Ted Burns, Jay Rice, Mike Sarr, Shannon Clement-Sexton, Pam Holt-White, Tracey Dudley-Wallette, Rhonda Stracener-Maine, Bryan Janeway, and Penny Locke. For those I haven’t mentioned, I apologize for the oversight.
Former coworkers: Paul Moorhead and Alvis “Big Al”–“Alvis Has Left the Building”–Hodge. The late Steve Turner.
Former teachers: Erroll Vangsness, Paul “Skip” Sonksen, Bruce Lankford, Jane Smith, Hal Hevener, Carroll Land, Lisa Sampietro, Hans Budnarowski, Bob Briscoe, Randy Quiram, Travis Bierman, Charles Fishburn, Jim Crichlow, the late Carlos Valencia
, and Rick Vafeades.
Former college professors: Melvin Weiss (CSUS), John Syer (CSUS), Morris Schonbach (CSUN), the late Helmut Haeussler (CSUN), Linda Kawaguchi (CSUN), Thomas Martinez (CSUB), Don “Do Not Call Me Doctor” Mason (CSUB), and “Multi-Employer Trust” Tim Brady (CSUB).
“Mr. Wonderful” Jim Holmes, Elissa Sime, Chaz “-a-Saurus” Serame and family, Chris Turner, the Wells family, the Abbott family, Kim K., Bill and Carol Klatt, Butch and AnneMarie Horn, William Bryan Nix, Derek Phillips, Don Ferguson, Paul Collard, John Lindsay, Paulie McKillop, Rob Spero, Gavin Anderson, Phil Christensen, LaMarcus Ford, Lee Fritz, Glen Gaz, Steve Hauser, Rick Henson, Gerry Horn, Matt McDaniel, Ron Robillard, Brooks Schomburg, Todd Stallworth, Kerry Steichen, Tim Stern, Tom Stice, Rick Wells, Michelle Kite, Suzanne Daly, Bob Strupp, Barb Mosley, Becky Bush, Bill Bauman, Brian “Uncle B” Morgans, Stephen and Sheryl Castro, Bob and Lance Beauchamp, Charles Price, Ed and Pam Santin, Bob and Mike Mars, Mark and Billy Hilton, Jill Patterson, Dr. Lee Herskowitz, Dr. Thomas Castle, Shawn Kemp, Eric Loverich, Lisa Story, Jake and Stephanie Miller, David Wanger, the Good family, Julia and Brenda Burke, Jennifer Vollmer, the Henrique family, Gary and Teresa Martin, Lorraine Smith, Maryellen Brady, Christian Haerle, Jaime “Anya Heels” Salazar (Rat City Rollergirl Sockit Wench Extraordinaire), Kris “Where No Sushi Is Safe” Uthaisilpa, Ken “Bald Is Beautiful” Moleski, and the North Carolina McCann Clan (Tom, Mary, Jason, Amy, Tommy, Chad, and Courtney). My in-laws Bud and Becca Barnett.
I’d like to thank the following musical artists for their inspiration:
First and foremost, the King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley. Elvis is alive and well in the hearts and souls of millions. He certainly lives on in mine.
Johnny Cash, Cash’d Out (the best Johnny Cash tribute band ever at cashdout.com), Marty Robbins, Loverboy, April Wine, Night Ranger, U2, Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne, Sammy Hagar, Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, The Cars, Erasure, INXS, Poe, The Beastie Boys (rest in peace, Adam “MCA” Yauch), Chris Isaak, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, Scorpions, Information Society, Roxette, Prince, Metallica, Alanis Morissette, Stabbing Westward, Seal, Nina Simone, Aaron Neville, Paul Simon, Rage Against The Machine, and Muse.
