I Am The 7%

Ever since losing my job back in August, 2014, I’ve been looking for a new job/identity*. At first, I looked for Art Director jobs. That’s was my old job, why not just do that again? The universe responded “Because” while I applied to dozens and dozens of places for months until I finally got it through my head I needed to move on. So, I poured myself into other things. I finished the book I was working on and submitted it to my literary agent. I doubled down on freelance graphic design and my online comic to generate a bit of cash. I designed a new religious symbol and started a business. I got a new, demanding calling at church. And, of course, I joined up with Tremendum Pictures to make movies. Just recently, I wrote and directed my first short film.

*Because, let’s face it, what’s the first thing you ask someone when you meet them? You ask about their job. Our occupations are inextricably linked to our identities as human beings. How do you talk to an unemployed or homeless person? The answer should be “Like everyone else,” but when you remove occupation from the equation you’re already handicapping the conversation right from the start.

But here’s the thing about all of that: none of what I do is a 9-to-5 job and none of it pays a whole heckuva lot right now. What I actually do with a big chunk of each and every day is completely unrelated to all my other pursuits. And it is the most important thing I do, period.

My wife went back to school this past semester to get her Master’s Degree in Communication. She’s an incredible public speaker, but more importantly she’s extremely talented at helping other adults become great public speakers. Her dream job is teaching them how to to do just that at the community college level, so, Master’s Degree. But here’s the thing about a Master’s Degree: it is a MASSIVE time suck. If Erin isn’t at school–which she always is–then she’s reading, or writing papers, or grading papers as part of being a TA, or meeting with professors, or etc. Most weeks, she makes cameo appearances in our lives, like a welcome guest star in a sitcom that everyone cheers when she walks through the door. Christmas Break was amazing; an extended guest stint where myself and our three girls got to remember what it was like when Mommy’s dressy pants weren’t permanently attached to her legs.

All of this is okay. It’s what we all signed up for and it’s temporary. In college, they tried to convince us that if we couldn’t handle the workload of all our classes then we weren’t ready for “the real world.” This was, of course, a lie. I’ve never been so busy as when I was in college. I was oppressively busy in college, same as Erin is now. This is temporary and, one day soon, Erin will just go to a job like a normal person and the hustle and bustle of College Round 2 will be over. All of this is okay.

This morning, Erin left for a weekend long conference. She won’t be back until Monday. It was at some point between saying goodbye to her after doing dropoffs with the kids and realizing I had better call the school about registering our youngest, Violet, for Kindergarten that I realized that, despite everything else I’ve got going on, I’ve got another identity altogether that I maybe haven’t been acknowledging.

I am a Stay-at-Home Dad. I am part of the 7% of American dads who stay home, with their kids, and parent while the mom goes off to do other things. I am the current, primary caregiver.

Me and the only child I was able to wrangle for a photo, Violet.

This means I go to the doctor appointments. This means I do the dropoffs and pickups. This means I do the shopping. If the house is a mess, it’s my fault. If the kids don’t eat, it’s my fault. If Erin has to go to a conference for the weekend, I smile and see her on her way, knowing she doesn’t have any choice in the matter.

Being a Stay-at-Home Dad means all of that, but, for some reason, I don’t think I really realized that’s what I am until today. I’ve been pretty much doing all this since last August, but there’s something about realizing there’s a label attached to it that suddenly makes it different.

“Well, good,” I can hear a lot of you Stay-at-Hom Moms out there saying. “Now you know what it’s like for us!”

Well, yeah. But, to be fair to me… and I hate to disappoint you… but whatever else my faults may be (and they are legion), I like to think my batting average for not taking the work my wife has been doing all these years for granted is pretty good. I always, always, always thought her job was harder. And told her so, repeatedly. When I came home and the house was a mess? I said nothing. Why would I? How can anybody be expected to keep up with the house when there’s small gremlins running around it constantly, destroying it, and then demanding fruit snacks as a reward. What I do is a pretty poor imitation of her job, really. Erin and I both know that if the kids are going to eat anything other than fast food any given night then she’s gonna have to prepare something I can put in a crockpot. Tonight: Black Bean Cilantro Soup. Tomorrow: …probably pizza. She’s out of town, you see.

Already I can see some huge benefits to being a Stay-at-Home Dad. Every time I pick up Violet from preschool, she insists we run around a nearby tree together. That’s something we do together, just her and me. Cami, our middle daughter with special needs, greets me with squeals and hugs every afternoon when I pick her up. Elora, our oldest and newly christened teenager, depends on having some time with me every night so we can watch cool shows*. We talk a lot more now, too. I actually do know what’s going on her life, which is awesome.

* Currently: LOST, The Flash, Arrow, Legends of Tomorrow, Agent Carter, and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

So, anyway, I am a writer, a filmmaker, an entrepreneur, an artist, and the 7%. A Stay-at-Home Dad. Weird hats to be wearing all at once, for sure, but I’m going a bit bald now so hats are helpful. Even weird ones.

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What It’s Like to Make Your First Short Film

The biggest, most important scene in the script took place in a diner and I had found the perfect location. It was quirkily retro and dressed with colors you don’t see in modern buildings anymore. This–this diner–popped. In a big way. Every angle was a good one, enough so I knew my DP would be in heaven every minute we shot there.  And the space–oh man, was it spacious! Not a small thing given how many crew and actors and extras would be assembled for the marathon twelve hour shoot.

I approached the management at the diner four weeks out. They were enthusiastic about us taking over the building after hours and the approval came quickly. All smiles. Four days before we started shooting–after weeks of prep and the aligning of schedules and last minute castings and, and, and–the diner pulled out.

We lost our primary location with four days to go… and I didn’t have a backup. I called Tremendum Pictures head honchos Chris Lofing and Travis Cluff in a panic. First thing they said?

“Welcome to Indie filmmaking.”

Read the rest at Tremendum.com…

The Empty Tomb: Bringing the Symbol to Life with the First Prototype

Previously – The Empty Tomb: Putting the Symbol Out Into the World

After proving there was real merit to the Empty Tomb symbol and that people were genuinely interested in seeing it on some type of accessory, my thoughts went immediately to who in the world I could call upon to help me make my germ of an idea into something real.

Thankfully, I’m Mormon. That means I know a guy for just about everything. Need work done on your car? I know a guy. Your house? I know a guy. What about a lawyer or a handyman or a foot doctor? I know a guy. A cop? I know a few. Mormons are everywhere and we’re all connected to each other with not very many steps in between. Basically, every Mormon is Kevin Bacon.

I didn’t even have to go outside of my own circle at to find the perfect partner for the Empty Tomb project. Jeff Kennington at Kennington Jewelers sold my wife and I our wedding rings. My Mother-in-Law is one of his most frequent customers. He’s also my uncle.

Jeff reminds me of my dad probably more than anyone else I know. Hopefully, he takes that as a compliment because my father was not only one of the better people I’ve known, he also had no small part in inspiring the Empty Tomb symbol in the first place.

Dad died as a victim of an armed robbery in 1996 after claiming for years that he would die before seeing his sons grow up. I was 19 at the time, and my youngest of three brothers was 10. Dad was 47. H is final years were full of pain and struggle as he had suffered no small amount of physical complications from another armed robbery eight years prior.

If you watched the above videos you heard my dad say it boldly: “I’m not afraid to die.” He really wasn’t. He talked all the time about what a grand adventure death would be and how much at peace he was with the idea–to him, fact–that he was not long for this world. He was a believer in the resurrection. He looked forward to living again and his body being restored to perfect order. It was his understanding of the gifts Christ had given him that got him through some pretty tough days and gave him a courage I still envy. Dad taught me more about the Living Christ through his powerful, matter-of-fact faith than any other book, teacher, or person I’ve known.

Jeff was a good sport about my email inquiry. He didn’t even tell me straight off like he should have about how he gets a million of these proposals from people who have the “next big idea” in jewelry that will make him millions. Instead, he looked at the design, considered the social media response and read the reactions, and ultimately concluded that I just might have something.

“There are no guarantees,” he said. “But this probably has the best shot of anything I’ve ever seen.”

Jeff and I working on the initial 3D model of the pendant.

Jeff, who I like to refer to as “Master Craftsman,” is real DIY jeweler.Kennington Jewelers specializes in high end and custom jewelry and Jeff has all the tools and equipment he needs to make just about anything he or anyone else can imagine. Immediately, we both wanted to make the symbol real. We wanted a pendant, in our hands.

Using the computer at the back of his store, Jeff immediately went to work on a 3D model using CAD to bring my flat design out of the 2D realm.

And, specifically, to my wife.

My wife, Erin, the first person to wear the Empty Tomb symbol (and owner of the first prototype!)

The road from designing the pendant to reality was a bit longer than I might be making it seem. Once the design was finessed in the computer (Jeff was extremely patient with my requests to take off 1/8 of a millimeter here and add 1/10th of a millimeter there), Jeff made a wax mold, cast it in white gold, polished it, added a chain, and probably did a whole bunch of other stuff I’m forgetting or just plain don’t know about. Because Jeff is the real brains of this operation.

Jeff, working hard on the first prototype.

Close up of the first pendant prototype.

In the end, we ended up with something that very, very closely resembled my initial drawings. We opted for putting two o-rings on either side of the pendant because of concerns over the inherently uneven weight distribution across the symbol. The thinking was that splitting the chain and attaching it at the o-rings would balance it out for the wearer.

But, as it turned out, we didn’t need to be all that worried about imbalance. There was a much, much simpler solution…

Next: The Second Prototype.

What Violet, my youngest daughter, does while waiting for Mommy and Daddy to finish working with Uncle Jeff.

What’s it Like Going to a Hollywood Movie Premiere?

It was probably sometime between noticing Kathie Lee Gifford was sitting right behind me and the woman in front of me with a tray of chicken and waffles was offering to get me anything I wanted that my wife, Erin, turned to me and said:

“Whose life is this?”

I looked around the room at the afterparty–at the DJ rocking it way too loud, at the black ties and the short skirts dotting the reserved table areas and the free bar, at the pretentious Evian water in front of me (I’m not clear on how or why a bottle of water could earn the label “pretentious,” but I do know it fits). I looked at all of us–at me and Erin and Travis and Amber and Chris and Rich and Steve and Tyler and all of us from, of all the dusty places on the Earth, Fresno–who came down to LA to celebrate a movie we made. There was just one answer to the question.

Whose life is this? This is our life now.

* * *

The fanciest of evenings started out, as it so often does not, in a McDonald’s parking lot… Click here to read the rest on Tremendum.com!

The Gallows Black Carpet Event

Here’s one indicator you’ve done something right in life: you attend a Red (in this case, Black) Carpet Event with celebrities and actors and actresses all over the place and the prettiest woman in the room is your wife.

Erin, in her dress and shoes.

Weirdly, we were nervous going into the event. I joined up with Tremendum Pictures earlier this year and although I’ve since met all sorts of people from all the highest walks of life, there was something intimidating about going into this thing–what with its jeweled purses, camera flashes, and fanfare and so forth. So much fanfare. Every news crew in town was there.

What to wear was a huge concern. It really shouldn’t have been. We saw people in everything from baseball caps to full-blown suits to pantsuits to floor-length gowns. But, as I said, Erin was the prettiest. She walked past the assembled crowd of fans waiting in line to see the movie with a full-on strut.

This being Fresno, it was 107 degrees out. This being a weird time in weather history, it was incredibly humid. Pretty sure I both ate too much popcorn and lost 3 pounds in sweat.

The Gallows is a movie I joined at the end of its four year creation process. My official credit on the film is “Assistant Set Decorator.” If you see the movie when it comes out on July 10th (and you should if you like awesome and fun in combination), pay special attention to the very last scene. You’ll see some of my handiwork and furniture.

This is an indie movie. We all pitched in whatever way we could, doing all sorts of things and contributing our time, talents, and vanity mirrors. The past few weeks we’ve all been going to local theaters to spread the word and sign posters. (Well, Writer-Directors Chris Lofing and Travis Cluff have been signing posters. Tell someone they could get their poster signed by the Assistant Set Decorator and watch them run.)

In one particularly hilarious, spontaneous moment, as we were exiting the theater a week or so ago after a 2 hour signing, Travis yelled out to me, “HEY, HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THIS MOVIE, THE GALLOWS?”

I was halfway across the parking lot. Travis was passing the line of people waiting to get in. They just stared with equal parts curiosity and confusion. I yelled back, “NO! WHAT’S THAT?”

“IT’S THIS GREAT NEW HORROR MOVIE MADE IN FRESNO COMING OUT JULY 10TH!”

“JULY 10TH YOU SAY?”

“YEAH! MADE IN FRESNO!”

“IN FRESNO? REALLY?”

“YEAH!”

“NO SH#*!”

Only, I didn’t say “NO SH#*!” That’s what Chris, who was standing next to Travis, heard me say. For some reason. What I really said was “NO WAY!” I’ve never said “NO SH#*!” in my life. But Chris’s version is funnier.

Despite this guerrilla approach to getting the word out, The Gallows is certainly not being distributed like an indie movie. It’s coming out with the full support of Warner Bros. Marketing and it shows.

It feels like the buzz is hitting the right pitch and certainly the people who have now seen it have been blown away by it. If you like scary movies, you can’t miss this one. It delivers the goods in a big, big way.

Chris Lofing, Erin, Me, Travis Cluff

My second favorite thing about the Black Carpet Event (Erin’s outfit was clearly the first) was seeing my friends Chris  and Travis take a victory lap. They have sacrificed everything they have and more to make this movie. The success they’re about to have is well-deserved. They’re good, gracious guys who are always, always quick to recognize the contributions of others and how blessed they are.

The pre-screening mingling was a contest of foot space. I can’t even imagine what all the regular patrons of Maya Cinemas were thinking as they dodged fancy shoes and shuffled through to Inside Out and Ted 2. Local Morning Show hosts were there, the Mayor of Fresno was there, all the press, all the investors in the film, the producers out of Hollywood, everyone was there.

What’s funny is how lost everyone can look at an event like this. Besides the actors and Chris and Travis, no one really has a purpose besides watching the movie.* So, you stand and you talk and try to look like you belong. You do belong, of course–you’re on the list–but to be approved for admittance without purpose is an uneasy kind of belonging. At least for me. I like to have things to do.

*Or taking pictures. No one asks you to take pictures at an event like this–there were plenty of people around who were being paid to do it–but you do it anyway both because you want the memento and because it’s something to do.  

Erin and Megan, just before the show started.

Erin and I settled into our seats alongside our friends Nate (who also works with Tremendum) and Megan, and our new friend, Brandon Jones, the film’s sound designer. Brandon’s a great guy and a great talent who, as you’ll discover once you see the movie, was absolutely integral to the movie’s success. The only music in the entire film plays over the end credits, so it was really up to Brandon to design a soundscape that would carry you all the way through the thing without making you once question why there aren’t any strings or guitars telling you how to feel. This is absolutely, perfectly what happens. Nice work, Brandon.

Quick story about Brandon: he just so happens to be tall and good-looking. After the film, he was mobbed by a large group of screaming women who demanded he take a picture with them. The funniest thing about this was that Ryan Shoos, one of the leads of the film, was standing nearby. Completely ignored. Ryan was a good sport about it and even went up to Erin and told her, excitedly, “that’s Brandon Jones over there!”

The movie went over like gangbusters with the audience. Lots of hiding faces behind hands and gripping the seats. Erin, surprisingly, did great with it. She watched it all with eyes open and managed to have a great time despite the film not being her usual bag. I was worried she’d be more like Megan and want to throw up. Seriously, Megan was so out-of-her-mind scared I’m pretty sure she thinks we made a radio show.

The credits were everyone’s favorite part. The movie was made entirely in Fresno by Fresnans and it was just so, so satisfying to clap and applaud for the people who were right there in the room with you. I’ve applauded after a film before, but it’s never been for the benefit of the people who made it. They’re never there. I just enjoy the explosion of joy that can follow a good movie and I like joining celebrations. This was different. This was more like a play. When we applauded, the actors and producers and casting person and, yes, the Assistant Set Decorators got to actually feel the love. Erin and Megan and Nate and I reserved our biggest cheers for Travis’s wife, Amber. Outside of Chris and Travis, I can’t think of anyone else more directly responsible for making The Gallows possible.

The stars of The Gallows with Erin and Megan. From L-R. Reese Mishler, Cassidy Gifford, Megan, Erin, Pfeifer Brown

The actors were mobbed afterwards. With the exception of Cassidy Gifford, daughter of Kathie Lee and Frank, the spotlight is not something they’ve really had before. Not on this level, certainly. You can already tell they’re pros, but also gracious and sincere in their acceptance of praise. I had a particularly good time catching up with Reese, who is the audience surrogate in the movie and gets his lines cut off hilariously in the editing over and over again. Not that my opinion is anything he should care about, but I assured him it worked for the movie and the character.

Back Row L-R: Tyler Smith, Megan Healy, Erin, Me, Nate Healy. Front Row L-R: Richie Mirelez, Ryan Shoos, Chris Lofing, Travis Cluff

The cameras came back out as everyone made the rounds once again for photos. As a special treat, the actual gallows made for the film was reconstructed in the theater lobby. Surrounded by barriers, no one had dared approach it all night. Sensing a great photo op, Chris and Travis just busted down the barriers and started calling people up in all sorts of combinations for pictures with them and the cast and the producers. Like I said, gracious.

By the time the afterparty hit, we were ready to eat. The food was good, but the real treat was the venue. Erin and I are both graduates of Fresno State and one of the more irksome things about our time there was the construction and establishment of the Smittcamp Alumni House, a beautiful, mansion-like building made exclusively for elite scholars, rich university donors, and visiting dignitaries. Or whatever. I never really knew what the Smittcamp Alumni House was for, but I did know that it robbed us students of a whole bunch of parking spaces. Because space. I was never allowed into the building until this very, quite spectacular night.

So, Smittcamp Alumni House, you had my ire. But guess WHAT? You… you’re a pretty nice building. Thanks for hosting us.

Erin and I left the party a little early, at 10:45pm. She had been complimented by Cassidy and several other people on her shoes throughout the night, but beauty comes at a price and I like a wife with feet. Once we’d cleared the threshold of the Smittcamp House, the shoes were off and Erin lost about a foot of height.

Erin was truly in her element the entire night. Not only was it the prettiest she’d felt in a very long time, but it was the first time since losing our jobs last year that she felt like we were part of something professional. You don’t know how much you need to feel part of the world until they kick you out of it.

This movie is a big deal, but more importantly Tremendum is a big deal. Even though we’re only a few hours away from Los Angeles, Fresno is very much its own thing. Hollywood does come here on occasion, but it’s usually to make fun of us. (I’m looking at you, makers of the indie film “Fresno.”) The support we’ve gotten from the community on this is incredible and will allow us to both stick around and do so much more in the future. I’m grateful to be in the middle of all of it. I predict big things.

The Empty Tomb: Putting the Symbol Out Into the World

Previously – The Empty Tomb: “Why Can’t There Be a Symbol of the Living Christ?”

I had created what I thought was a simple, elegant symbol to represent the Empty Tomb of the living and resurrected Christ. Two circles, side-by-side, one of them open and one closed. The closed circle is the stone that was rolled away on the third day after Christ’s crucifixion. The open circle is the empty tomb where His body could not be found because He lived again.

Pretty straightforward symbol. Pretty simple.

But maybe it was too simple.

I showed the symbol to my wife, Erin. I told her what it meant. She looked at it, considered it, and said “Huh.”

She didn’t know what to make of it. It seemed unique, but also familiar. I’m certainly not the first person to put two circles together. But, in my gut, I kind of felt like I onto something.

And then I sat on the design for three years.

* * *

In late August of last year I lost the job I’d held for 12 years. 24 hours earlier, Erin had lost hers. It was a devastating blow not only to our personal sense of identity (we’re productive members of society, dang it), but also to our financial, emotional, and spiritual stability. We got low. And then we tried to pick ourselves back up again. That set us on a long, unexpected road.

In April of this year Erin and I went to Italy. We’d purchased the tickets a couple of weeks before we lost our jobs and decided to go mostly because it was already paid for, but also because a trip to Italy would never again be so cheap as we’d be staying with friends the entire time.

On Easter Sunday, April 5th, 2015, I was in the Italian apartment of our friends Pete and Lisa, sitting and listening to lessons on Christ and his sacrifice, when the symbol of the Empty Tomb popped into my head once again. This time, I couldn’t shake it. I felt inspired to get it down on paper and just put it out there and see if anybody else thought there was something special about it.

Having no paper, I used my iPad instead:

I posted the drawing on Facebook and Instagram for everyone to see and judge. The response was immediate and overwhelming. There was something about the symbol that spoke to people on a deeper level than I even anticipated. They got the depth of what the symbol says immediately, almost without explanation. It seemed to do for them what it did for me: express an aspect of their faith in Christ and that no other symbol quite could.

People even started seeing meanings in the symbol I didn’t even realize were there.

They saw the tomb and were pleased by the design, but those who looked closer saw an implied infinity symbol. Several people even assumed it was an intentional part of the design. “Infinity” is a wholly appropriate idea to get from the Empty Tomb symbol. The tomb was empty because Christ became the “firstfruits of them that slept.” (1 Corinthians 15:20) He became a resurrected being. Resurrection is everlasting. Eternal.

I think all truly great art tends to do this. Great art gathers meaning unto itself the author or artist may not have been aware of nor intended. That “gathering of meaning” serves as, if nothing else, an affirmation of the original inspiration behind the creation of the art.

I didn’t even have to say it. Within just a few short minutes someone popped up and said they’d like to see the symbol on a pendant or a ring. They could see it on jewelry. Thankfully, I’d brought my laptop with me to Italy. Inspired, I opened Adobe Illustrator and made this that same afternoon:

While the eventual first pendant we’d create with the design would look a bit different from this, the idea of what this symbol could be–and even its logo–was born.

Once again, Facebook and Instagram went nuts. Several people wanted to place their orders right away. Some of my Protestant and Catholic friends messaged me privately to ask if the symbol could only be worn by Mormons. A Buddhist friend of my Mother-in-Law even inquired if she could get one. She just liked the look of it. Even my atheist and agnostic friends complimented the design.

It honestly hadn’t even occurred to me until that very moment that anyone outside of my faith would be remotely interested in the symbol as a meaningful thing or as a piece of jewelry at all. I gladly responded in the affirmative. It’s not a Mormon symbol. It’s a symbol for all Christians. It’s a symbol for Christ.

The symbol of the Empty Tomb seems to strike just the right balance between clarity of meaning and subtlety. It’s that balance–that sweet spot–that makes the symbol effective and attractive. People want to express their faith, but most people don’t want to hit anyone over the head with it.

I hope it’s not crass to say this, but it’s nevertheless true: based on the responses I got through social media that day, the thought occurred to me that there might actually be a way to make money again. I don’t need to be a rich man (we all know what Christ had to say about the difficulties that attend that lifestyle), but I do need to make some money to feed and clothe my family. I couldn’t help but be preemptively grateful for the gift of the symbol and the enthusiasm of so many.

Of course, I had no idea how to make jewelry out of this thing, nor distribute it. I needed a partner.

Next: Partnering with Kennington Jewelers and making the first pendant.