Honoring Harvey

I tend to mark my holidays by watching certain movies, again and again, at that time of the year. Yankee Doodle Dandy means it's near July 4. A Christmas Carol is my must-see for Christmas and there are several that tell me it's Easter -- Ben Hur, the 10 Commandments and, my favorite, Harvey, which I put on for Good Friday.

Now, folks might wonder about the connection of a Jimmy Stewart farce to one of the holiest of times for Christians, but, c'mon, a six-foot-rabbit -- talk about jumbo-sized Easter Bunny.

My dad loved the film, and he really didn't like a lot of things. That probably had to do with the main character, who likes to have a drink, tell stories and find something big, beyond reality and life-affirming in a bar, where folks go to to find such things. As the line the movie goes, No one ever brings anything small into a bar.

I gravitate to Harvey because it plays on the conflict between the weird and wandering -- like me -- and the so-called normal and stable, like everyone I've often been compared to throughout my life. To again quote from the movie, I've spent a lifetime trying to avoid becoming a normal regular person -- you know what stinkers they are.

I doubt anyone could play the main part in the film like Jimmy Stewart. There's something so chill about him in Harvey, the way he remains calm and steady as the nut-case character surrounded by so-called normal folk, who are completely stressed out by every little thing.

We had a dog who died a year ago after gracing our house for about a dozen years -- a near-100 small-pony-sized shepherd-hound half breed named Riley -- who, I am convinced, would have sounded like just like Jimmy Stewart if he could speak properly. He just looked like a canine Jimmy Stewart.

I'd often wonder, after a beer or two, what Riley might say in his Jimmy Stewart voice. We, his house-humans, would always complain that he was dumb because he wouldn't do what we told him to do -- most of the time -- and I thought he might say to us, I'm not as dumb as you think. I got you all trained just the way I wanted to.

I'd have to agree, we weren't as smart as we thought we were. I rarely am as smart as I think I am -- just ask the missus and the kids

And that brings me to my favorite line from Harvey: In this life, you can either be oh, so smart, or oh so pleasant. I spent years being smart. I recommend being pleasant.

After almost 63 years on this earth of ours, I truly do recommend being pleasant, especially now. Imagine how it would be if we spent our time trying to be pleasant to each other rather than to outsmart each other. Maybe that's what Jesus meant by turning the other cheek. Nowadays, though, you're bound to get both cheeks bruised.

Something to consider this season.