Poppop

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  • 24 Oct

    One Degree of Tom Hanks

    I have no genealogical proof to back this up, but I’m related to Tom Hanks.

    It took exactly four seconds of his interview last night on Jimmy Fallon for me to make the connection.  The style of his hair, the mustache and just his overall look bore a striking resemblance to my grandfather.

    I snapped a picture on my phone and emailed to my mom — a credible expert on the subject — and she replied, “Little bit!”  Judge for yourself, with a screen cap of the Hanks on top and a picture of Poppop and Nana below:


    RIGHT?!

    Welcome to the family, Uncle Tommy.

    One other related note — I looked at his IMDb page and noticed he’s playing the role of U.S. Ambassador to Berlin William Dodd in the upcoming film “In the Garden of Beasts.”  I read the book earlier this year, and am ecstatic that it’s being made into a movie.  Such an interesting story.

    By cjhannas family Poppop Uncategorized
  • 15 Apr

    On Eagle’s Wings

    I usually write stories that get no immediate feedback.

    Sure, some people comment right after they read something here, or an editor might say something after going over one of my scripts. I’ve also spoken to many fine residents of Jacksonville, Florida, who wanted to lodge some complaint about one of the news shows I produced.

    But that’s not the same as having people react in the moment — to see their faces and sense them as you’re reading something.

    Last week, I actually did that, presenting a short piece at a “coffee house” event held at my church. As I may have suspected, it was an odd experience having a crowd instead of just sending my story off as a bunch of anonymous electronic signals.

    But at least they applauded at the end. My normal audience may do that, but not loud enough for me to hear.

    In case you weren’t in attendance, I recorded a version here (3.5 mins). Brace yourself for the part where I made the questionable decision to sing, letting what I thought the story needed at that point supersede my total lack of ability to adequately provide it.

    By cjhannas audio family piano Poppop Uncategorized
  • 25 Feb

    Working for the Memories

    Last week I posted an audio story about how my mom and her family communicated with each other by tape when my grandfather was deployed in Vietnam.

    I mentioned the incalculable hours that in some way went into making that post and said I would explain some of the background work you didn’t see.

    In 2009 I was working part time for a company that among other things converted all kinds of old media to digital. That included things like 35mm photo slides, 8mm movie film, reel-to-reel audio tapes, records, VHS tapes and cassette tapes.

    Sitting in my parents’ basement were a box of reel-to-reel tapes, a few movie reels, a film projector and a reel-to-reel player. Since I learned how to use that older equipment, I set to trying to digitize my grandparents’ old stuff.

    I started with the audio tapes:

    Which involved this machine:

    A few years earlier, my younger brother and I had tried to use the machine, but couldn’t quite figure it out. Turns out it was broken anyway. After opening it up, and a quick (lucky) find on eBay, I had a replacement belt for one of the motors and a working machine.

    The transfer process can sometimes be a bit convoluted. In this case, it involved running an audio cable from the tape player to my camcorder, which was in turn connected to my computer. Slightly complicated, but it worked.

    Things went well for a few tapes. For being as old as they are, they sound remarkably well.

    Then while I was playing a tape, a loud BANG and a puff of white smoke came from inside the machine. I quickly unplugged it, recovered from a minor heart attack, and found that it had just blown a capacitor. I had to wait a few days for the new $0.15 modern capacitor to arrive, but it was pretty easy to solder in place and finish the recording process.

    Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when I listened the audio files from each tape on my computer. Using Adobe Premiere editing software, I was able to make little clips of each section that sounded like something I might use in the story.

    I just happened to be going to dinner with my parents, and brought along a (very cheap) microphone and recorder on the off chance my mom was willing to sit down for an interview. I was kind of surprised that she immediately said yes, and her insight I think added a lot to the story I was already forming in my head.

    The next day I started writing the script, but stopped after about a page. What I had wasn’t terrible, but I just wasn’t happy with the direction it was going. Mainly the issue was that I did a lot more of the setup before you ever heard any of the old audio, which is really the whole story.

    I stepped away for a day, and on the Metro ride into work I brought along a notebook and started over. It took a second night of writing on the subway, but I think the result was much better the second time around.

    The next step was recording my audio. Without access to a recording studio, I opted for the next best location — the closet in my bedroom. With the Flashlight app on my cellphone lighting the way, I was able to record my track and feed the audio into my computer.

    From there, it was just a matter of using the editing program to splice together my audio, the interview with my mom and those small clips I had pulled from the original audio.

    The post last week included two pictures from the era. Those are part of more than 1,700 of my grandparents’ 35mm slides that I scanned in 2009. Just like the audio tapes, the pictures are things I had never seen and provide a look into what their lives were like back then.

    They even help connect to our family today. In some of the pictures you can see a striking resemblance between my mom and aunt and some of their kids. The backgrounds of the photos inside their various houses are interesting too. They show a lot of the artwork and decorations they had that were the treasured keepsakes in their house when we packed it up five years ago.

    Many of those things are in our homes today. For example, check out the wall behind my grandmother in this picture:

    As I type this, I can actually reach out to my left and touch one of those scrolls, which are hanging in my bedroom.

    Here’s a bonus piece of audio (50 seconds) from the tapes that didn’t make the original story, with my grandfather talking about where he got the scrolls:

    So, lots of overall work, but definitely worth experiencing those memories.

    By cjhannas audio family Nana Poppop technology Uncategorized
  • 17 Feb

    Voices From the Past

    Some of these posts, I admit, take really no forethought and about three minutes to write.

    This one doesn’t have much text, but I assure you I couldn’t begin to count how many hours went into it.

    It’s a radio story — think “This American Life” — so you’ll need about 13.5 minutes and either some speakers or headphones.

    It might also help to have a picture of the people involved so you can have something to look at while you listen:

    Enjoy.

    Next time, a little about how all of this came together. Stay tuned.

    By cjhannas audio family Nana Poppop Uncategorized
  • 06 Nov

    Remembered in Print

    I know you’ve been clamoring for updates on The Year of Books or Year of Reading or whatever it is I dubbed my quest to read 20 books this year. Well sometimes life gets in the way of your best intentions. That is not to say I gave up, but rather didn’t have a chance to chronicle the latest ones. Between seemingly simultaneous trips, ending an old job, looking for a new job, packing and moving, this space has been neglected, but I have been reading!

    So here goes.

    I’m still not sure what to make of the timing of this one. A lot of times I’ll get 75 percent through a book and put off the end for a few days. With “The Dead Beat” by Marilyn Johnson, those few days changed the tone with which I read.

    In the simplest description, it’s a book about obituaries. Most people my age don’t pay much attention to the often last chronicles of peoples lives printed in their local paper. But if you have taken journalism classes you probably had to delve into the world of writing about the dead.

    That process can be a fascinating way to learn incredible things about seemingly “normal” people. Or if your professor allows, you can decide the obit being written about you for class can include details of dying after being kicked in the chest by a kangaroo during a boxing match at Madison Square Garden. I’m sure I have always been a treat to have in class.

    Johnson doesn’t have to make up the absurd to delve into the art of the obit. She goes through the American and British papers who truly have turned this type of story into something to be studied. She even spends time at a convention of obit writers and readers who come together each year to discuss the craft and the latest in the world of last writings. During her discussion of playwright Arthur Miller’s obit, I learned he was the father-in-law of actor Daniel Day-Lewis.

    She does a great job of setting up the “debate” in the obit world, the decision of who gets that honored spot each day and how the story is written. Johnson breaks down the stylistic differences between those who stick to the easy details and those who pull no punches in lampooning characters who quite frankly deserve it.

    But perhaps the most poignant part of the book comes as she talks to one of the pioneers in modern U.S. obits. His name is Jim Nicholson, and he wrote for the Philadelphia Daily News. At the time of their interactions Nicholson had retired and was caring for his wife who had Alzheimer’s. He talks about getting out of a formulaic approach to the process, especially when talking to the family about their lost loved one:

    “Everyone who comes in the house or calls on the phone is trying their best to out-mourn everyone else. You get a steady diet of that for three or four days, and I call up and talk regular, just like I’m talking to you, it’s a breath of fresh air. I ask about his favorite breakfast food, what kind of disciplinarian was she, did she let you have that hamster or doge the first time you asked. I’d wind up asking the questions that people who live with you all your life never end up asking.”

    Unfortunately you can’t really time when that subject is going to come up. Sometimes you have an idea that the end may be near, but even then the final seconds are always a surprise. I mentioned before the few days I took off before finishing this book. I went to North Carolina for a camping trip with my brothers and some of my brother’s friends. That Saturday we got a call that our grandfather had died.

    And so it was a week of making arrangements to fly home, spend time with a family that seemingly “just” did this process three years ago with our grandmother. I don’t know if it was more comforting that we knew the routine–same funeral home, same cemetery, same pastor. But I do remember feeling like I was in a movie when we arrived at the burial to see a military honor guard and the ceremony that came with it–three-shot volley, presentation of the flag from the casket to my aunt, salutes as the procession arrived.

    I left work and went straight to the airport to fly home. While waiting for my flight in Jacksonville I read “He left many things well begun,” a line Johnson quotes from an obit in her collection. I’m not sure I would have read that line the same way had I finished the book a few days before.

    From the Loudoun Times-Mirror, Col. Chester W. McDowell, Jr.

    By cjhannas books family Poppop Uncategorized
  • 24 Aug

    No Lady, I Rode in on Pixie Dust

    Since at least one person found this entertaining, I thought I’d share with the masses. Today I did something quite dumb and ended up in a situation in which I could do nothing but sit down and laugh at myself.

    I went to my grandparents’ house to do a little work which involved going up to their second-floor porch. You get up to the porch by going out a door attached to one of the bedrooms. That is the only way in, and the only way out…unless you are like 12 feet tall. I did the spackling I went up there to do and proceeded to turn the knob on the door to get back into the house. The door was locked. The keys were on the kitchen counter. I am a freaking genius.

    So of course while I was up there and didn’t know I was locked out, there were people everywhere walking by with their dogs, kids, etc. The second I find that I’m locked out…nobody. Not a soul for a good 20 minutes. So I pondered my options, which included popping out the screens and hoping a window was unlocked (none of them were), jumping to the ground below (I value my knees), or waiting until someone finally came along.

    Fortunately, No. 3 eventually happened. I asked a woman if she could go around back and let me in. This woman either didn’t live in the neighborhood (which has pretty much identical houses), or didn’t realize there was exactly one way to get onto that porch. She said, “You want me to just walk through these people’s house?” I kindly informed her that it was my grandparents’ house without mentioning that I hadn’t exactly just materialized on this porch out of thin air or climbed up there on an invisible ladder…there was a key involved, I just don’t freaking have it, thanks. Fortunately my charm (or helplessness) was enough to get her into the house and for her to unlock the door.

    By cjhannas family Nana not smart Poppop Uncategorized
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