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Elmore Leonard (Photo copyright cnn.com)

Elmore Leonard (Photo copyright cnn.com)

The work.

The work.

Elmore Leonard was the coolest cat working.

His novels were tight, streamlined, snappy works of art that smacked you across the face, then stroked your chin and told you, “It’s OK baby, you know I love you.”

But you were never really sure.

“I want us to be friends, Faye. And we all know that friends don’t hit each other… unless they have to.”

“Rough business, this movie business. I’m gonna have to go back to loan-sharking just to take a rest.”

Mixing dark humor with bracing violence, Leonard, who passed away Tuesday at 87, made an indelible mark on every would-be writer, film fan and book lover.

From “Get Shorty” to “Maximum Bob” to the vastly underrated “Hombre,” many of his books were turned into films and TV shows and the best ones (like “Jackie Brown,” which came from “Rum Punch” or “Out of Sight”) played true to his perfectly-played dialogue.

Dennis Lehane, the author of “Mystic River” and “Gone Baby Gone” and maybe the best crime novelist out there right now, had this to say about Leonard on his Facebook page this morning:

Elmore Leonard has left us, which sucks. One of the biggest influences on my own work, if not the biggest. He was one of our most underrated satirists and social commentators and the most influential, game-changing crime novelist of the last several decades.

When it came to writing dialogue, he sat on the mountaintop while the the rest of us wandered in the valley. He’s truly irreplaceable, and the world is poorer for his leaving it. RIP, Dutch.

You were The Man, Mr. Leonard. May your work live forever.

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"Here I go again, down the only road I know..."

“Here I go again, down the only road I know…”

Possibly...

Possibly…

The prodigal son returned, and little had changed.

After a self-imposed exile of several months from my home away from home for the past 24 years, the Oak Harbor Cinemas, I returned Tuesday and plunked my eight bucks down to see a matinee of “The Wolverine.”

Well, in typical OHC fashion, I first had to wait for the strip mall cinema palace to open, which it finally did 11 minutes late, with no lights on inside and one employee trying to sell tickets, popcorn and, eventually, run the projector.

Just like old times.

Sitting in the parking lot, with Dairy Queen reliably churning out soft serve over my shoulder, it could be 2013. Or it could be 1997. Or 1989, when I first went through those doors. Time has not changed my movie theater.

And it is MY movie theater, a three-screen oasis, which, while it will never resemble a modern wonder of architecture, has given me much. And taken much, as I have spent thousands of dollars (seriously) there since the day I first camped outside its doors to see Micheal Keaton become “Batman.”

Then went back another 11 times for the same film.

It is where I saw “A River Runs Through It” with my Montana born-and-bred father, the final film he saw in theaters.

Where I saw “Deep Impact” with my mother, a movie that produces way too many tears for its level of quality, but that is another story.

Where I saw “A Knight’s Tale” as my very young nephew swung from the seats.

“George of the Jungle.” “Unforgiven.” “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” “Drive.” “Schindler’s List.” “Saving Private Ryan.” “The Crying Game.” “Pulp Fiction.” “Brokeback Mountain.”

“Interview with the Vampire” with a rockin’ case of food poisoning and “Thelma and Louise” as the only guy in a theater full of VERY angry women.

More Jean Claude Van Damme films than I care to remember and numerous times when I had a theater entirely to myself — not always at the same time.

I went week in and week out. I have seen more films than you can imagine in those three darkened rooms. The seats in the back row are contoured to my butt cheek outlines.

And then … I stopped going. I did the unthinkable, the truly unimaginable. I went three months into the summer movie season without darkening their doors.

It wasn’t a lack of money or the dearth of original movies coming from Hollywood. Not all remakes and sequels are created equally, and I have always scraped together ticket money, even when I had to skip paying bills.

It wasn’t the annoyance of the rise of cell phones, which has made me want to take a BB gun into the theater and plunk each and every person whose “smart” phone suddenly lights up like a glowing target.

In the end, it was a theater, my theater, that completely lost the ability to do that most basic of things — play a movie.

“Prometheus” stopped 261 times. “Red Tails” died five minutes in, never to return. “Jack Reacher” failed to even start, TWICE.

Another 18-mile round trip wasted each time. And an annoyance became something worse, and I simply walked away.

It took 24 years, but the Oak Harbor Cinemas finally killed our relationship.

Until Tuesday, when I went back.

And the film played start to finish for once. Which is a nice start.

As I looked up at the ceiling and found that one watermarked tile that has been there since 1989, I was home again.

For better or worse.

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A supporter (NOT the creator of the Facebook page) of NAS Whidbey's OLF.

A supporter (NOT the creator of the Facebook page) of NAS Whidbey’s OLF.

The movement begins.

The movement begins.

It’s the story the Canadian-funded papers tried to get, but couldn’t. So I did.

I know people. People who know people. People who know people who know … OK, you get it.

When a small group of big money gadabouts went after NAS Whidbey’s OLF, trying to shut down flights that had been going on for decades, many in the Navy community were ticked off. A few have done something about it.

One of the more prominent is a Navy wife who kick-started the “I Support the NASWI OLF” facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/ISUPPORTTHENASWIOLF?hc_location=stream), which has already picked up more than 2,400 “likes” in a matter of days.

A focal point in the drive to fight back against a group that threatens their jobs, and, in many people’s perspectives, national security, the page drives the resistance.

Now, in an exclusive (suck it, Canada), we present her story.

And while she prefers to keep her name out of the spotlight, believing she is just one of countless who are fighting the good fight, we can tell you this — she is obsessed with Christmas, is one of the most genuinely sweet people I know (but with a biting sense of humor) and is not going to back down. Ever.

In her own words:

If you had told me two months ago that I would create a Facebook page that would help in a very important crusade I would have laughed at you. Yet, here I am, and here you are, and I’m not laughing.

My love of planes and the military started when I was a little girl. I was raised an Army brat.

I spent several years in Germany where my mom worked for “Donutland”. She would take me to Rhein-main Air Force Base where we would go onto the flight line to sell donuts.

I would hear the planes closer than most civilians or dependents my age ever would.  I remember getting goosebumps seeing the planes up close and personal.

I remember the guys coming out in their uniforms to buy out all of our donuts (even the cake donuts, which were always the last to go).

They LOVED that my mom would bring her kids with her. They always said it reminded them of home. It was at that point that I fell in love with the military.

Didn’t matter the branch. They were my heroes.

That is the basis for why the military means so much to me. It’s my history and my future.

Personally, I try to stay current by reading the news daily. I even have the Whidbey New-Times app.

When I started reading what people had to say about the Navy’s presence on Whidbey Island I didn’t really understand what all of the fuss was about. In my world everyone appreciated the military.

Boy, was I wrong!

When I started following the OLF situation I would read the comments after each story and think one of two things: 1) good point, or 2) what an idiot.

I read comments like “I was here first”, “health and public safety”, “we are forced to live in a war zone”‘ or “my family has lived here since dirt was created”. What are we, four years old?

There are comments from those who moved by the OLF before the Noise Disclosures were required. They act like they didn’t know there was a HUGE landing strip in the middle of a field. Are you blind? Did nothing in your head register “uh, what’s that for and why does it look used”?

Of course, on a whole different playing field are those that signed the Noise Disclosure who apparently thought to themselves “self, the planes won’t be that bad”.

Did they not realize that the military is an ever-evolving machine? They must have thought that the government would come up with a whisper-quiet plane.

The government isn’t going to install a Prius engine in their planes. Those planes need oomph to get in the air (and if you’ve ever been behind a Prius on Snoqualmie Pass you know they ain’t got oomph). That’s just logical thinking.

Now they want to have the OLF closed because THEY made a bad decision. So, their bad decision is something they expect the rest of us to pay for.

If they think for one moment that we all won’t pay for it they are highly mistaken.

To me, those people are selfish and irresponsible. We are all adults here. When we make mistakes we should take responsibility for them.

When we buy property we should do our research and check out the neighborhood. As my husband and I were looking for a home we did our research.

We wanted a certain side of town. We wanted to be nearer to some things and further from others. We saw our house twice before buying it. We were familiar to the neighborhood. We made an INFORMED decision.

When we signed the documents I read every page so I would understand what I was getting myself into.

So, when these people spout off about the sound of the planes making their eyes pop out/eardrums burst, being here before this plane or that plane, or “our quality of life is greatly diminished” it reeks of ignorance and poor decision-making skills on their part.

If they aren’t willing to take the blame for their ignorance, then they need to focus their anger on the county for allowing the area around the OLF to be developed.

Just because you can build a house at the end of a landing strip doesn’t mean you should. It definitely doesn’t mean that you should buy said house.

The fact of the matter is that the Navy is part of keeping this country safe. The pilots need their training and they get that training at the OLF.

The Ault Field Base has its own operations to manage, so throwing into the mix the OLF traffic is ludicrous, unsafe, unsustainable, and selfish.

As for Pickard and his sheeple … our Facebook page has gone from 400 members to 2,400+ in ONE WEEK! Your page is holding steady at 51.

So, if you think for one moment that we will go quietly into the night you are mistaken. Honey, we are just getting started!

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Dennis Farina (Photo copyright Touchstone Pictures)

Dennis Farina (Photo copyright Touchstone Pictures)

Dennis Farina was The Man.

A real-life Chicago cop who became a movie and TV star by bringing a no-nonsense style from the streets to the silver screen, his death Monday, at age 69, flat out stinks.

Coming on the heels of James Gandolfini’s passing, it leaves a huge hole in the world of character actors, of lugs who were so much more than they looked at first glance.

Farina headlined two of the best TV shows to ever grace the boob tube.

The first was the somewhat-lauded “Crime Story,” which tracked a neon-lit battle between cops and hoods that stretched from Chicago to Vegas, set to Del Shannon’s driving theme song. Watched over by “Miami Vice” creator Michael Mann, it was prime ’80s TV.

The other, far more overlooked series, was 1998’s short-lived (and utterly delightful) “Buddy Faro,” which had Farina as a permanently-soused detective who vanished in ’78 and surfaces (sort of) face-down in a bowling alley twenty years later. Found by an obsessive fan who gets him to re-start his P.I. service, Buddy brought a dash of the swingin’ ’70s into the modern era.

Eight episodes was all we got, but it was prime Farina.

Countless TV episodes, from “Hardcastle & McCormick” to “Miami Vice” to “China Beach” and “Remington Steele.” Then there were the movies — “Thief,” “Manhunter,” “Out of Sight,” “Get Shorty,” “Midnight Run,” “Saving Private Ryan” and the criminally-overlooked “Big Trouble,” where Farina was an increasingly more and more pissed-off hit man who couldn’t catch a break.

The man was gold, from the mustache to the deadpan dialogue to the eyes that had seen things in his 18 years in the Chicago Police Department’s burglary division. He was an original, a one of a kind character actor and he made everything he was in better.

Good-night and God speed, Mr. Farina.

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