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Theme Sketch From Composer Jordan Lewis
Theme Sketch From Composer Jordan Lewis 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

I just received the new theme from composer / multi-instrumentalist Jordan Lewis. Such an amazing theme for the new film and definitively gives the film a “real” feel. Check it out below.

  • Jason Stadtlander

Winter Through the Eyes of a Child
Winter Through the Eyes of a Child 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Winter Through the Eyes of a ChildThe drifts of white snow were deep, well above his head. The pale gray sky almost blended perfectly with the horizon as it met the white powder, making it difficult to tell where the snow stopped and sky started. He stood at the glass and aluminum door staring out at the flakes as they blew around, his hands pressed to the glass and his breath fogging the window with each exhalation. He noticed that if he waited for a moment between breaths, the fog would crystallize causing a beautiful pattern on the glass in front of him. The boy desperately wanted to go outside and he had tried to open the door but felt the sting of his mother’s hand on his hand and the big word “No!”

He didn’t know what the word meant, but he knew it always hurt when he heard it. So here he stood, captivated by the beauty in front of him and the beauty beyond the window. It was magical, watching as the flurries blew and the silence that was trapped within them. In his two years of life, each day was forever and every week an eternity. Although his mother had said something to him in words he didn’t understand, he thought he grasped that she said she would take him out. But he couldn’t remember the conversation or what he had understood and now it was in the distant past of his mind, a fading fog. All he knew was that now he wanted to go outside. He blew again on the storm door, the glass fogged and then crystallized. The boy breathed again and the crystals melted, coalesced and then crystallized again in a new shape.

The boy felt a soft warmth on his arm and he looked down. His mother was pulling a sweater onto him with ferocity. She was saying something but he didn’t understand most of what she was saying. She jerked his arm upward pulling his coat over the sweater and his shoulder hurt, but he ignored the pain, because he was still captivated by the window and the frost that had formed, that he had made. His feet were being squeezed into boots and his toes hurt because of the force with which she was putting upon his feet and he cried out in pain. “Stop!” was all he understood in her flurry of words. Another painful word.

Finally the boy stood there, arms puffy, legs wrapped tight and his feet feeling thick. He looked down at himself and although he had never heard of nor seen a sumo-wrestler, had he seen one, he could have related. His mother’s legs and towering face were high above him, she grabbed a shovel and opened the door, the blast of wind and snow surprising the boy. The woman scooped some snow off the front step and then stepped out, grabbing the boy by the front of the coat and pulling him out into the frigid, blustery day. Immediately the boy reached down and touched the white flakes, something he wanted to do forever. But he could not feel them through his mittened hands, so he pulled off his mitten and his arm was struck. He looked up and saw his angry mother, speaking “No!” and more words, then pulling his mitten back on. The toddler stared at the snow, so close to touch it, but unable to do so and felt tears welling up at the torture of it all. His mother who was shoveling, stopped and looked back at him, as tears streamed down his face. That’s when he saw her face melt like the snow and she walked over, sitting down on the step next to him. She said more words, holding his hand in hers. “Cold.”, “Touch?”, “Quickly” was all he understood.

The boy nodded and his mother took off his glove and placed some snow in his hand, he watched as it melted on his warm skin and was surprised at how cold his hand then felt. The woman brushed off his hand, drying it on his coat and then pulled his mitten back on and he once again felt warmth. She balled up some snow and placed it into his mittened hand and then helped him toss it. This was very funny to him and he giggled. Then his mother picked up some more snow and threw it at the same drift she had thrown his at. Again he giggled and she laughed. He understood laughter. Snow was good, it made him happy and he could tell it made her happy as well.

  • Jason Stadtlander

The Perfect Child
The Perfect Child 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Everyday my children amaze me. They amaze me in the beauty that they create, the innocence that they hold and the pain that they cause. Children are… in the simplest form, the pure unaltered human. They are uninfluenced by society, laws, doctrine or anything else created by man. They are simply what we are when you strip away all of the crap we’ve created.

I know, that’s not a very educated way of looking at what we have created, but let’s face it, so much of it is crap, garbage, trash and feces. Yes, the laws we have, do protect us — generally. The “right” and “wrong” do give us a guidance as a society of what we should do to further our society. However, our laws and everything we have created is really just there to help guide those who lack common sense.

The Perfect ChildChildren operate on three basic principles. Love, fun and what they feel in their heart God wants. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all religious on you or anything. But let’s face it, children are what we are when we are “new”, when you strip off all the stress, responsibility and rigid societal pressure. More than 90% of Americans believe there is a God. That being said, if there is anyone that is close to what God truly wants of us, a child is that.

Children seek “fun”. They seek pure truth, they question what they shouldn’t and question why they shouldn’t question it. They are the purest form of love and the truest critic you’ll ever get because they don’t know they are hurting someone’s feelings simply by being honest. We are taught not to hurt people’s feelings. How different would our world be if we were all, always honest? If we told each other exactly what we thought of each other?

People would know when they really do smell bad. Artists would know their work is beautiful or horrible. Investors would know that it’s a stupid idea to invest in something before they waste their money. People who go out grocery shopping in their PJs would be told the brutal truth that they really do look like idiots. When you go to buy a car, the salesman would tell you “I wouldn’t touch that car, it was smoking when I turned it on earlier.”

Conversely, we would tell people that we spend day after day working with, that we really do care about them. We would actually tell people that they are doing a good job or a bad job. We would hug a stranger when they hurt and we would help the person that sits by the road collecting money. And… We might even draw a picture for a friend, for no other reason than because we love them.

So what is the perfect child? The perfect child is you – in your purest form.

How different would your world be if you chose to be that child? Mine would be pretty awesome.

  • Jason Stadtlander

Shattered Family Values
Shattered Family Values 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

The Family Unit

Shattered Family ValuesOne hundred years ago our world began to change dramatically. World War 1 had just begun and it wouldn’t be long before women would be entering the workforce and in roughly twenty years World War II would begin. The advent of technology, factories and industry changed not only our economy but also our families and what they meant to us.

One hundred and fifty years ago, families were closely knit. They depended on each other for survival and worked together on the farm or in the family business. Grandparents lived at home with the children and grandchildren and took care of each other. Everyone had their duties. Families had the daily opportunity to really get to know each other. To be a part of each other’s daily lives and know what drove each of them. That in turn caused a closeness, a bond that couldn’t be broken. Hence the saying; “Blood is thicker than water.”

The Family Division

This is not the case anymore. Now, we as adults work different jobs, only seeing our family for a few hours in the evening and perhaps one or two in the morning. We hire baby sitters so that we can work away from our children and we get to see our family on the weekends and subsequently try to cram as much as is possible into those precious few hours that we do have. With the advent of all the entertainments (TV, Wii, iPads, etc.), many of us also spend less quality time talking. A family could sit in a living room for hours without saying a word to each other, without really getting to know each other.

We further this division as children grow. The children come of age, move away and go to college and likely settle in the town where they went to college, often far away from their parents. Parents grow older and their parents who also live far away because they (as children) moved off to go to school and started a family now depend on nurses and care givers. No longer do we take care of our parents. It is now accepted to allow a stranger to come into our house to spend time with our children and affect them educationally, psychologically, and emotionally while we (the society) work.

The Glue

So what do we do to repair this? It my opinion that following a few of these guidelines would help tremendously:

  • Start off by eliminating electronics all together for a week. Then limit them to 30-45 min per day.
  • Have weekly family meetings, each of you can have a coffee, a hot chocolate, a drink and just discuss the things that happened to you this week.
  • Plan a monthly family night out. Maybe it’s a dinner, maybe it’s a movie , maybe it’s just a walk in the woods.
  • When shopping for colleges, weigh heavily on what’s more important… That education and diploma that 20 years from now won’t really make a difference, or the family that 20 years from now might not be around. If at all possible, stay close while going to college.
  • Email, text and phone regularly (at least once a day) to your family members.

If you have more suggestions, I’d love to hear them below.

 

  • Jason Stadtlander

Where Do The Yuldikars Play?
Where Do The Yuldikars Play? 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Where do the Yuldikars play when all of the people go away?
What is left in the dark when the lights go out?

We think there is nothing, an empty room or solitude. But silence is peace and the still of the quiet pounds out a rhythm with the thump of each beat of the heart. They wait in silence, in the dark, in the shadows, waiting to see if the people will come back. Once it is decided that the people will not be back, that no one is watching on cameras or microphones, they emerge, one by one.

“Come out!” calls Tinee.
“They’re gone!” barks Feasle

The shadows take form, the harmless black swell of the desk and chair, the corner where the plant sits, dusky cast shapes that move across the room. One at a time the Yuldikars peel from the wall, extrude from the floor, their dark eyes, black holes absorbing all light staring with intent at the world around them. Having watched the people all night, all day, they now have the ability to move and play.

Where do the Yuldikars playTheir play is not innocent, happy and pure, not that of children, but of what can only be described as blackness and glowering. They swoop over the border collie in his bed and hover over him, while he looks around with fear. He knows these beasts, for they always return when his family is not here. The creatures that humans do not know, the darkness that rules the world just out of sight. He knows they can’t harm him, but they stare at him with their tenebrosity overbearing, knowing they would pull the life out of him as they had done to so many people, if only they could. They cannot harm the canine, but he saw what they did to his master’s wife when she was ill.

He sat in the corner watching the woman as she lay in her bed with labored breathing. The man, sat next to her, holding her hand as the children played in another part of the house. The collie had watched the Yuldikars come into the room, unseen by the man. How had he not seen them? Why won’t the humans see the creatures which always come for them? They see them as shadows, as play on light, but they are not. The collie saw as the sinewy creatures of darkness seethed over the woman, moved across her and as the man put his head down on her abdomen and wept with his eyes closed, they moved quickly, entering her mouth, eyes and nose with a rapidity that prevented the man from even seeing. They moved in and extruded, pulling and leeching what life was left in the woman. They consumed her warmth and pulled her soul out through the back of her head. The dog saw as they seethed through the bottom of the bed as if it were nothing but air to them and the pale essence of the woman screaming in silence as she was forcibly absorbed into the wall but several of them.

Why? Why did they take the woman? Why do they take what’s left of the people and disappear with them?

People stand in a room by themselves and talk. They think they are talking to themselves, but the collie knows the truth. They are talking to what they cannot perceive. To what they know is there on a very low level of consciousness. The Yuldikars as they watch, for they are experts in hiding and always watching.

Where do the Yuldikars play when people are away? In the walls, in the corners, in the shadows of the living, in the darkness of existence and just beyond the perception of people. But the collie knows, yes, he knows that all too soon they will all know about the Yulidkars, for they will be forced to play with them in their dark penetralia just out of sight. They will know, but not until it is too late.

  • Jason Stadtlander

Where Lilies Bloom
Where Lilies Bloom 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Preface:
Growing up on a tree farm in central Ohio, some of my fondest memories are those of my dog Ben, a black lab. We would frequently play along the crick (creek) and pick tiger lilies to bring back to my grandmother. A part of me is always stretching to reach that peace that I had, living in the country. Living in the city stresses me so much that I must daily gather all my energy just to cope with all the people.

 

 

Where lilies bloomWhere do the lilies bloom?
They brought me peace
They cleared the gloom
Along the crick they lit the way
As Ben and I would always play

The brook babbled over rock and stone
Following banks to lead us home
But home was not wear we were meant to go
We created dams to and fro

Following our hearts the grassy blades
Chasing rabbits among the glades
The farm in our blood, the trees in our soul
The freedom within our only goal

But what now of life and sullied past
The country’s gone the gloom is cast
The brooks are dry and Ben is dead
My childhood gone but left instead

A skeleton stands tall and true
Dark clouds surround and follow through
Circling in endless storm
No break in clouds and perfect form

I search for peace, to find the room
To see the crick where lilies bloom

  • Jason Stadtlander

Huffington Post: Guns and Children — Don’t Be Ignorant
Huffington Post: Guns and Children — Don’t Be Ignorant 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Guns and Children -- Don't Be Ignorant

I am a father to young children and also an educator of parents with a teaching focus of protecting children online. My compassion for children runs deep and having been raised around guns and being taught the dangers of guns at a young age, I believe that it’s critical to educate children on gun safety.

Gun ownership is not just a right under the Constitution, it is also a responsibility. It’s our charge to ensure that those who own guns are taught not only the safety necessary to protect themselves, but also the knowledge of how to make certain children understand the realities and dangers of guns.

It is our responsibility as parents to create and follow guidelines that will teach our children and make a safer world for them to live in. Ultimately it is we the parents that are responsible for our children, not our government.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jason-p-stadtlander/guns-and-children-dont-be_b_5923268.html 

  • Jason Stadtlander

“Loss of Innocence” – My First Story
“Loss of Innocence” – My First Story 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Introduction

Once upon a time, there was a young boy by the name of Jason Stadtlander who sat at his desk in 6th grade and was given the assignment to write a creative story based on one of the objects sitting on the teachers desk. Without looking at any of the other objects, the teddy bear immediately caught his attention.

I saw that bear sitting upon the teacher’s desk and for me the bear had a story, had a life that no one else in the room knew. So, I grabbed my pencil and wrote my very first short story “Loss of Innocence”.

Here is that story for your reading pleasure.

 

Loss of Innocence
By Jason Stadtlander

(Written for 6th Grade Class in April 1986)

 

Sarah could hear a muffled thump from her nine year old’s room upstairs. She got up from the table and walked to the edge of the stairs. “Parrin? Everything okay up there?”, she called

A muted “Yeah Mom, just dropped something.” called through the closed upstairs door.

She stood there looking up the stairs for about thirty seconds, then shook her head and walked back to the table to finish her shopping list for tomorrow. Earlier she had checked in on Parrin and he had been playing on the floor. He had all of his toys spread out and was having his usual battle of the stuffed animals over the plastic soldiers. She supposed he liked to do that just because it was something of contrast. Toys that were hard and cold battling something soft and cuddly, she thought it amusing.

Upstairs Parrin had all of his soldiers lined up in a U formation facing his bed. His slightly worn B-Bear (short for Benjamin the Bear, which Parrin’s father had helped name) was sitting against the twin bed facing the soldiers. “I’m coming to stomp down your legions!” Parrin said in a deep,  menacing voice. He picked up the bear and made it slowly stomp towards the soldiers with heavy feet. This was a game that he regularly played with B-Bear. In his mind’s eye he pictured the old movie that his friend Jeff had shown him; Godzilla. He also thought it was funny seeing all of the little men flying about as a giant bear stormed thier way through.

The soft bear jumped out of Parrin’s hand and ran over to the dresser, and plopped down beside it. He frowned and looked up at the boy. Parrin looked at his old friend and asked, “What’s wrong? We had almost defeated the evil brigade.” There was an aura of innocence and wonder in his voice.
B-Bear Teddy (Loss of Innocence)B-Bear looked at the child for a drawn moment, his deep brown eyes not losing contact with Parrin’s green innocent eyes. The bear thought about the years that he had spent with Parrin. The games they had played, the warmth of his touch in the middle of the night as he hugged him close to his chest. The boy was a kind, loving child and always treated the bear as his best friend, carrying him everywhere and confiding in him his deepest secrets. B-Bear’s mind wandered back even further to the time when Parrin’s grandfather browsed through the FAO Swartz toy store in Boston, so long ago.

Joe didn’t want to return home to his little girl empty handed, so here he stood looking at the rows of animals and other toys. The bear had been sitting on a narrow shelf along with two dozen other bears that looked identical to him and Sarah’s father had walked over and examined all of the other bears carefully and picked him up. The bear had been elated to have been chosen out of all his other neighbors on the shelf. “I like this one, she’ll love it.”, Joe said glancing back at the other bears and then giving a nod to the bear in his hand.

“But he looks like every other bear on the shelf.” his wife replied.

“No, this one is special. He has… personality.” he said smiling.

A then four year old Sarah had been overjoyed when her parents got back to Knoxville and gave her the warm plush toy, his ultra-soft, plush fur shimmering and his eyes sparkling like none she had ever seen. He was magical. Sarah and “Jake” would be friends for almost a decade until he started to collect dust and was eventually put into a box where he sat in the dark for over a decade, until one day there was a new child to introduce him to. The bear couldn’t remember feeling as alive as he had the moment he was taken out of that old box and presented to Parrin. The boy’s eyes had lit up with amazement and awe as he grabbed the bear and held it close to him. “Oh! Thank you Mommy! Thank you so much!” he cried

“Be very careful with Jake, he’s old and a little fragile. Okay?” she said

“Ok mommy, I will. But do I have to call him Jake?”

“Hmm. No, I guess not. You can call him whatever you want just take good care of him. He was mine when I was a little girl” she said

Parrin was sincerely shocked, “YOU were a little girl?”

Sarah laughed at the earnestness of her four year old son and replied “Yes honey. I was a little girl and I was very well behaved when I was little.”

Parrin’s father cleared his throat and grinned. She looked at him with a smile and told him to ‘just be quiet’.

“What would you like to call him?”asked his father

“He does look old doesn’t he? Like that guy on the ten dollar bill.” Parrin stated

“You mean Benjamin Franklin?”

“That’s his name?”

“Yep, one of our country’s forefathers.” replied his father

“Benjamin. Yes, his name is Benjamin.” Perrin announced

 ~

 B-Bear glanced down at the floor and back up to Parrin who was looking at him patiently. “I’m just… tired. I’m not as young as I used to be.” said the old bear.

“Do you want to sleep? I can tuck you in bed.” The boy replied.

“No, unfortunately it’s a bit more then that Parrin.” There was a long pause. He wasn’t sure how to articulate his thoughts. “You see, I’m getting old. I have lived a long and full life. I’m afraid I won’t be around a lot longer.”

Parrin looked like someone had hit him with a brick. “You’re saying you’re DYING! You can’t die! You’re B-Bear! You are my best friend! I won’t let you die.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes as he locked gazes with the bear across the room.

The soft bear got up and waddled over to Parrin, who was now sitting next to the bed and had several lonely tears streaming down his face. He put his soft paw on Parrin’s leg. “Don’t worry, death is just part of the natural order of life. It’s something that will happen to everyone eventually. As long as you always keep a part of me right here.” He touched the boy’s chest. “Then part of me will always exist. Please don’t be sad, we have had many good years together and I want you to remember the good times.”

Parrin, who had not made eye contact since the bear left the other side of the room looked down at his old friend. “But I don’t want you to die. It’s not fair.”

“Life is seldom fair. But I will always be in your heart.”

Suddenly the door opened and Sarah looked down at her son, his ragged old bear was laying against his leg. Parrin had tears in his eyes. “You okay?” his mother asked.

“Mm hmm. Just got something in my eye.”

She looked at him for a moment, sensing something was not quite right but felt he wanted to be alone.

“Well, you need to get to bed. Okay?” she said

“Okay.”

Parrin got up and went to brush his teeth, came back into his bedroom and changed into his Pajamas. He laid down deep under the covers, bear in hand. He reached over and switched off the small lamp on his bedside table and lay looking at the ceiling for a moment. “I love you B-Bear” he said softly.

“I love you too. Good night Parrin.” Said the bear.

As Parrin drifted off to sleep the bear in his arms slowly stiffened and took the shape of the wire frame that was inside him. His bright shining eyes glassed over and became the solid brownish orange glass that they had once been. His soft, wet nose became velvety leather. B-Bear’s soul was absorbed back into the child. That night, Parrin had gained a new level of maturity and with maturity, some things are lost forever.

 

  • Jason Stadtlander

New England Madness and the Wild World
New England Madness and the Wild World 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

For those of you who do not know me, I’ll the you a little secret about myself – I’m demophobic. It’s one of my only fears, that and of course the fears that comes along with being a parent; ketchup stains, malnutrition and the ability to live on ice cream alone.

Demophia is the fear of being in crowds or masses of people. With me, specifically it has to do with crowds in small places. I’m not claustrophobic by any means and I can stand before an audience of two thousand without a problem or go to a crowded county fair… But stick me on a crowded train, a crowded bus or even a crowded road with far too many cars and it’s all I can do to hold myself together.

New England Madness and the Wild WorldMost definitely NOT the ideal fear when living in historic New England. I love the history, I love the culture and I even love the people. What I do not love, is the quantity of people. On top of this, there is the ‘crowd’ mentality of Massachusetts. I can drive through New York City (and have many times) and never experience the types of drivers (and commuters) that we have in Massachusetts. There is a term we have here; “Massholes” and it is so apt.

You can have a guy (or woman) who is the nicest, kindest person you’ve ever met. They will bend over backwards to help their fellow man, but place them behind a steering wheel or force them onto an escalator on the ‘T’ (what we call our transit system here) and it’s like watching Dr. Jekyll turn into Mr. Hyde. They mutate as their eyebrows furrow, their shoulders turn inward and they cannot fight the beast within forcing their middle collection of phalanges to extend itself toward whatever human may be in their way. Add to that, a spew of expletives that can only be described as the opening of a rotting, putrid sewer ejecting profanity at an extraordinary rate of speed and you have a classic Masshole. Something that only coffee can help keep at bay.

To this day, I attempt to explain to my friends and family that live outside of New England the level of stress that I (and many of us) feel when commuting into Boston each day, but they just flat out don’t get it. There is no way to explain to those who don’t live here, the stress that is involved in traveling such a short distance. It is completely normal for my commute of fifteen miles to take between an hour to two hours.

Oh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world
It’s hard to get by just upon a smile
Oh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world
I’ll always remember you like a child, girl

~ Cat Stevens “Wild World”

Which moves us on to the final question that you are all asking yourself; “Why do you live there, if it’s such a pain?”

Ahhh… a question I have plagued myself with for nearly twenty years. I am a farm boy, despite the fact that I grew up in Columbus, Ohio, I spent nearly every weekend at our farm in Loudonville, Ohio and that is where my heart is, in the land, the soil, the trees and cicadas as I lay in the grass watching the clouds float by. Someday (soon perhaps) I will return to that peace that I yearn for so much. There are reasons that all of us have for sticking around here. My reasons are my children. They are in one of the best school systems in the country. There is theater, world class music, world class medicine, rich history and experiences that cannot be compared to anything else right here in our area. That doesn’t mean that my children can’t appreciate the love of nature and the farm. They go to my father’s farm several times a year and look forward to it regularly and there is an enormous weight that is lifted each time we drive out of the last “bury” in lower Connecticut.

Others in the area are here because they grew up here or because they fell in love here and lastly of course because the ocean is here. I too am drawn to the water, though my draw to water is more of the lake kind, being a mid-western transplant… but the ocean suits me fine – for now.

Until I can move however, I shall endure the commute from my micro-environment within my car, stay in my bubble on the train and shield myself from the massholes. Ahhh, coffee. What a wonderful invention.

  • Jason Stadtlander

Unapologetic
Unapologetic 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

For years I apologized
For whole I am, who I was

The person you saw was a mask, just a lie
For the creature within wasn’t true, wasn’t right
The creativity and passion hidden for long
You think you know me but always are wrong

For years I apologized
For whole I am, who I was

I am not someone to roll over
To be steam rolled and molded
I am not just some scenery
To be admired and folded

For years I apologized
For whole I am, who I was

Your words were like daggers that I must defend
To be untrue to myself and always to mend
Black and white aren’t the key, they are just an illusion
Shades of gray are the truth and require diffusion

For years I apologized
For whole I am, who I was

No more will I be untrue to myself
Nor will I table emotions to sit on a shelf
I am strong and unique and proud of the truth
I will live my life unwavering and empower my youth

For years I apologized
For whole I am, who I was

I will not say I’m sorry with your hollow demands
If I’m sorry you will know for I’ll hold out my hands
I cannot be commanded, I will not be halted
Your words will collide and I will not be faulted

For years I apologized
For whole I am, who I was

For this is the start of a new dawn and life
The masks have come off, no longer in strife
I’ll no longer be simply cosmetic
My words are now silent, I’m unapologetic

Copyright © Jason Stadtlander - All Rights Reserved

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