Thumbs Up

"We must try to contribute joy to the world."

For a generation of moviegoers, Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert was famous for talking about movies. Then cancer took away his ability to speak (and to eat and drink through his mouth). His courage to continue working inspired his fans just as though he were one of the film heroes he wrote about.

            He was arguably the nation's best known and most respected film critic. For 24 years, Ebert and Gene Siskel, the reviewer for the competing Chicago Tribune, playfully argued about new films on their half-hour TV show "Siskel and Ebert at the Movies." They became famous for their "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" way of voting, so much so that they had the expression "Two Thumbs Up" copyrighted.

            Ebert lived and breathed movies. He wrote 15 books, most of which were film criticism, and in 1975 he became the first movie reviewer to win a Pulitzer Prize.

            From 1967 to 2013, he saw about 500 films a year and reviewed about half of them. Out of those more than 20,000 or so movies, his top 10 favorites were 2001: A Space Odyssey; Aguirre, the Wrath of God; Apocalypse Now; Citizen Kane; La Dolce Vita; The General; Raging Bull; Tokyo Story; The Tree of Life; and Vertigo.

            In 1999, Siskel died suddenly of a brain tumor. Ebert soldiered on with other TV partners. Then in 2002 he had surgery to remove his cancerous thyroid gland. The next year he lost part of his salivary glands to cancer.

            Then in 2006 cancer attacked his jaw, and part of it was removed. Two weeks later as he was packing to leave the hospital, his carotid artery, weakened by cancer and surgery, burst. He was rushed back into the operating room. Most of the rest of his jaw had to be removed.

            Having lost the ability to eat or drink, he was fed a special paste through a tube in his stomach. Ebert constantly fantasized about the taste of food—everything from orange soda and Good & Plenty to an entire meal at Steak & Shake.

"Problems become invisible"

            "What I miss [most about not being able to eat] is the society," he wrote. "Meals are when we most easily meet with friends and family. They're the first way we experience places far from home. Where we sit to regard the passing parade. How we learn indirectly of other cultures. When we feel good together."

            Through all of his trials, Ebert did everything he could to continue to write. He lost himself in his work. "When I am writing," he said, "My problems become invisible, and I am the same person I always was."

            Surgeons conducted three additional surgeries to try to reconstruct his jaw. None succeeded. The cancer was too powerful. It was one thing after another. It began eating away at his right shoulder. He broke his hip. He passed away in 2013. His last words to the public were, "I'll see you at the movies."

            Near the end of his life Ebert said, "What I am grateful for is the gift of intelligence, and for life, love, wonder, and laughter….I believe that if, at the end of it all, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do….We must try to contribute joy to the world. This is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try."

            One of Ebert's heroes was fellow Chicago write Studs Terkel who penned best-selling oral histories of Harry Truman and everyday working people. "The lesson Studs taught me is that your life is over when you stop living it."

            Ebert never stopped living his life.

MORAL: Real heroes are in real life.

Buy the book "Courage 101: True Tales of Grit & Glory" at Amazon!

Mistaking Fable for Truth

"Hazarded a deed of remarkable boldness”

Move over, Orville and Wilbur Wright. You were bold and tenacious inventors, but you have nothing on Eilmer of Malmesbury. Sometimes known as Oliver of Malmesbury due to a misreading of ancient documents, this 11^th century Benedictine monk was the first man to fly.

What is known of him and his exploits was written by his brother monk William of Malmesbury, a historian who lived in the same abbey. Scholars agree that the story is true, given William’s reputation. He was one of the most learned men in Europe during his lifetime and the author of Gesta Regum Anglorum ("Deeds of the English Kings") which covers English history from 449 AD to 1120 AD.

Here is how William immortalized Eilmer:

“He was a man learned for those times, of ripe old age, and in his early youth had hazarded a deed of remarkable boldness…

“He had by some means, I scarcely know what, fastened wings to his hands and feet so that, mistaking fable for truth, he might fly like Daedalus, and, collecting the breeze upon the summit of a tower, flew for more than a furlong [about 200 yards]…

Violence of the wind

“But agitated by the violence of the wind and the swirling of air, as well as by the awareness of his rash attempt, he fell, broke both his legs and was lame ever after. He used to relate as the cause of his failure, his forgetting to provide himself a tail.”

Little else is known about the courageous Eilmer. Scholars have, however, surmised certain facts.

His flight took place sometime around the year 1010. We know this because Eilmer saw Halley's Comet in 1066 and remarked that he had seen it swing past Earth in 989 when he was a youngster 76 years earlier. He is quoted in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, a collection of ancient accounts, saying, "You've come, have you?...You've come, you source of tears to many mothers, you evil. I hate you! It is long since I saw you, but as I see you now you are much more terrible, for I see you brandishing the downfall of my country. I hate you!"

The English saw the comet as a portent of ill fate. After seeing it for the first time, Vikings invaded, destroying many towns, include Malmesbury. Shortly after Eilmer saw the comet a second time, England's last Anglo-Saxon king Harold II died at the Battle of Hastings that year, enabling William the Conqueror to become the first Norman (or French) king of England.

So if Eilmer had been a child in 989,  he would have been an "early youth" in his 20s around the year 1010.

We know that Eilmer was an educated man for his day. He knew the myth of Icarus, the young Greek inventor who flew by affixing wings to his arms. He fell to his death when he flew too close to the sun, its heat melting the wax that held the feathers to his wings, a victim of hubris, foolish pride which led to his demise.

 It is also possible that Eilmer had heard stories of flight spread by Crusaders returning from the Middle East and Europe. Some say the Muslim inventor Ibn Firnas built and flew a glider in Cordoba, Spain, in 985. (Most historians discount this tale, because no account of it was put to paper until 600 years later.)

Eilmer had the mechanical skills to build his flying machine. According to a U.S. Air Force website, his wings would likely have been made of cloth attached to a wooden frame. The frame would have had hinges to allow Eilmer to flap the wings. His airfoil, based on William’s account, also included material fastened between or around his legs.

Kingdom's first capital

But could the flight have actually taken place and could Eilmer have flown 200 yards, a distance which experts say might take 15 seconds?

There has been an abbey at Malmesbury, about 100 miles west of London, since around 676 AD, and the original structure had an 80 foot tower. Today’s magnificent Romanesque gothic abbey is the third to be built on this site. 

The abbey's spire once made it England’s tallest building, the kingdom’s first capital, and home to its first King, Athelstan the Glorious. It also had the realm’s second largest library.

Today services are still held in the abbey's stunning church. Its 122-foot-long nave sports a vaulted ceiling so steep visitors crane their necks to take it in.

The church was a prized possession during the English Civil War of the mid-16^th century, changing hands seven times. Its walls are pockmarked with bullet marks.
Life was far more peaceful when Eilmer and William were residents. The abbey was an institute of theological learning. It kept safe mighty relics—pieces of the cross on which Jesus was crucified and fragments of the Crown of Thorns.

 But is there enough wind at the site? Would there have been enough room for Eilmer to make his flight?

The abbey does sit atop a hill. "The toun of Malmesbryi stondith on the very toppe of a greate slaty rok, and ys wonderfully defended by nature," wrote the 16th century writer Leland.

On one side, the hill descends abruptly for about 60 feet before sloping to the Avon River about 600 feet away. Today crows soar around the tower, and if they caught the wind there in Eilmer’s day, he surely saw them and was inspired.

MORAL: God is in the de-tail-s.

Buy the book "Courage 101: True Tales of Grit & Glory" at Amazon!