Screenwriter’s know the fine art of unmasking—the moment a chilly air conditioned theater filled with popcorn munching, Coke sipping, chocolate craving escape from reality artists instantly become silenced by a single line. Like a bolt of lightning the quote shoots from the blizzard white canvas sautéing the edges of your half cooked life, giving your sixth sense every reason to believe the main dish has yet to be served.
In the newly released comedy/drama Knight and Day, Tom Cruise is heavily drugged for his protection, while stepping away from the manmade way of erasing time from the pages he once controlled, Cruise unhurriedly rubs the sleep from his burnt inner visions taking note of the always unforgettable Cameron Diaz walking toward him.
“What day is it?” His voice cracks the thinly scorched white sandy beach air.
“Welcome to someday!” Diaz delivers in that giggle girl way that’s made her famous.
My stepfather Joe always spoke of someday. Someday he would complete my mother’s neatly designed, deep dark grained Montana styled open aired kitchen with a giant window behind the sink so she could locate places to travel while cleaning up after the eight kids she kept under a wing.
Someday isn’t the day you rip open an airtight thick cardboard box and out pops the new Iphone with so many really cool digital features you barely remember how to call your mom standing within the frame that makes up the daydream window. Someday is when the cell phone provider realizes the difference between cheap talk and talk that’s cheap.
Someday isn’t when Toy Story III and Shrek make a final imprint on the unperfected corners of the tails we chase. Someday is when you channel surf into The Simpson’s and think, “Whoa…Bart has a gray hair.”
There isn’t a person on earth who hasn’t stepped into a vat of someday.
The problem; we demand someday to happen everyday.
ATM and Wal-Mart gift cards make it too easy to purchase spur of the moment happiness. An art gallery tried to convince me that purchasing a Peter Max original was the perfect investment, not because I love the expression but the king of American Culture was pushing 75 years in his oversaturated yet colorful paints.
We are the first generation to bump nose first into a sheet of glass. We see it, we want it. Like a lab rat we'll keep slamming into the window until one of us shatters.
It’s nearly illegal to invest in a career. College students set sail across an open sea only to learn the message in the bottle had nothing to do with a lost soul searching for his or her mate but rather someone asking for pizza to be delivered three thousand miles away.
Someday has become the parental chores we set aside. We collect favors then spend them on family members who have their own someday to reach but are too busy because the gutters are cluttered and the backyard deck weebles and wobbles and may someday fall down.
From a distant rock placed unevenly in the rays of a rising new day Barnes and Noble and Borders Books are facing a visionaries someday. Readers lead a blessed life and style knowing they can purchase and download a book, magazine and newspaper in seconds onto a Kindle, Nook or Ibook without worrying about how hot the steam is while dancing above an egg being fried on a sidewalk in Carolina.
Someday, probably sooner than you think, Hollywood won’t require movie theaters to send their pictures…blockbusters and duds, love and comedy, historic versus carefully edited to look real dramas will open instantly in the comfort of your living room making way for bathrooms to be closer to the TV and red carpets to be laid from the front door to the flat screen. Dah! The actors will never fall out of love with the carpet experience…if you want them to come over, you gotta treat them better than the best.
“Welcome to someday!”
Someday you’re going to have to explain why we’ve nearly forgotten about what terrorists did to our nation on September 11th. If it wasn’t for NBC, ABC and CBS constantly delivering award winning stories on Pearl Harbor Day…it too would be forgotten. Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg have spent millions of their own dollars preserving the memories of the men and women who sacrificed their lives in World Wars I and II.
History tends to repeat itself when someday becomes lost in a pile of single socks.
And then there was silence…
Its time to see if my stepfather has started working on my mother’s kitchen; maybe someday…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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