Cast Away

I rented the movie "Cast Away" the other night. By the way, that's

Wilson the Volleyball

how the movie studio spelled it. Personally
I would
have opted for
"Castaway," but hey, what do I know? It's about a Fedex efficiency expert named Chuck Noland who is the sole survivor when a Fedex plane goes down over the Pacific. He spends five years on an uninhabited island with only a volleyball for company. He survives on smarts and toughness and the love he holds in his heart for Kelly, his fiancee, to whom he proposed just minutes before he got on the plane. He manages to hold onto a pocket watch she had given him with her picture inside, and that sustains him emotionally. The volleyball was part of a cache of Fedex packages that started washing up on shore shortly after he did. He accidentally cuts his hand and throws the volleyball at the wall of the cave he's inhabiting in frustration. When he retrieves it he notices that he has left a bloody hand print and when he cleans off a few strategic spots, he's created a face. It was a "Wilson" brand volleyball, so of course he dubs his new friend Wilson. This movie is over two hours long and I'd venture to guess that at least three-quarters of it is just Tom Hanks and Wilson. As odd as it may sound, his conversations with Wilson turn out to be a powerful device he uses to maintain his sanity. Hanks was nominated for an Oscar, and probably should have won; he was absolutely amazing. They should have created a new category for Wilson...Best Supporting Performance by a Volleyball. You're probably wondering why I'm writing about this. Glad you asked. When he's finally rescued, Fedex throws Chuck a "Welcome Home" party in his hotel suite. After everyone clears out and he's left by himself, he starts surveying the detritus of the party. The tons of leftovers that could have sustained him without his having to learn the hard way that coconut milk is a natural laxative. The fish platter that could have spared him the ordeal of having to teach himself by trial and error how to spear fish. And finally, there's the electronic match. You know, those long gizmos people use to light things nowadays? It took him weeks to finally figure out how to get a fire started on the island. There's no one in the room with him and he doesn't utter a word, but you know exactly what he's thinking: we take everything for granted. It's gotten to the point in this blog (this is entry # 125!) that I no longer remember everything I've written about, but I think I might have posted about this already. I remember the first time I went to a Duncan Donuts with Chayie, a few weeks after I got discharged from Silver Lake. They have a drink called a Coolatta that I used to watch commercials for in the hospital. A couple of young, buff guys (ironically) playing volleyball on the beach. They work up a real sweat and of course they quench their thirst with a couple of Coolattas. Of course in real life it would be Heineken, but this is not their commercial. I very vividly remember lying in bed and absolutely believing that I was never again going to be able to do the normal, everyday things that healthy people do...I was never getting out of that room. And there I was, every fiber of my being transfixed by the sensation of my watermelon-strawberry Coolatta coursing smoothly and deliciously down my throat. Chuck Noland was right: we take everything for granted.