"13"

As we mark the centennial of Judy Garland’s birth this month, I want to hear her sing again. I want to cry for the hundredth time listening to “Over the Rainbow” or get goosebumps over “The Man That Got Away.”

We’ve just returned from an extended stay in Italy, most of it spent in Rome. It was an unforgettable trip, with all the stars aligning. We experienced a heady mix of lovely weather, welcoming people, fabulous food and wine. With beauty and history around every corner, you could almost forget all the horror happening to the East.

Each year around Oscar time, there’s a lot of speculation about which film will win Best Picture. From what I’ve read online, it appears that my own favorite, Ryasuke Hamaguchi’s brilliant drama “Drive My Car,” is a long shot for the top prize.

It can be hard to come up with activities that satisfy and entertain everyone. That favorite family board game may get old after awhile. Once again, great, timeless movies can help.

Let me start by getting personal: watching Steven Spielberg’s “West Side Story” on the big screen was a profoundly moving experience for me. Just hearing that wondrous Bernstein/Sondheim score again brought a wave of emotion I wasn’t fully expecting. 

Recently, someone mentioned a pirate movie, and to my own surprise, I realized I’d never weighed in on them — a serious oversight. Over a full century of cinema there have been many bad or indifferent pirate-themed films, and really only a few great ones — all the more reason to connect you to the best of what’s available.

Advances in gay rights have been hard-won, and there's still much work ahead, but Sunday presents an opportunity to embrace all the progress to-date. It’s a day for Pride.    

After the particularly painful song of ice and snow that was Winter 2013-14, I’m happy to say that the robin in yonder dell is finally chirping “Spring! Spring! Spring!” Yes, the world is puddle-wonderful again and that means that, like any other hibernating animal, I feel an urge to shake off the cold, stretch my legs, and participate in some old-fashioned migration. So windows are rolled down, sleeves are rolled up – it’s time for a good long drive to greener horizons, or most anywhere from here. I raise my face to the sun, and movie fanatic that I am, hear Groucho’s voice ringing in my ears: “Sing ho! For the open highway! Sing ho! For the open road!” (Anyone remember the movie?) Or maybe the strains of Bob Hope – “We’re off on the Road to Morocco!” (Bob – it’s better off-season.)