What does this remind me of?

It's deja vu all over again.

Have you ever seen or heard a story that reminded you of a place you've been, or know so well, and it's right on the tip of your tongue but you just can't manage to say it?

That's what happened when I read about the Lyubov Orlova, a 300-foot cruise ship that snapped it's tow line on the way to being scrapped, and has been adrift on the ocean for a year. It's what us seafaring folk call a "ghost ship", with no crew and filled with hundreds of diseased, cannibalistic rats named Hannibal.

Just kidding. I don't know how many of the rats are named Hannibal.

The point is, I was reading the article about it, and oddly enough, the idea of this once great ship, now years out of its prime, this giant of its industry, once filled with life and purpose, that at one time brought joy not only to those who worked on it but also those who experienced the fruit of that work, now floating powerless, wandering aimlessly adrift wherever the currents take it - so far off course for so long it can never get back.

I just feel like I've been on that boat. It all sounds so very familiar.

Especially the part about the cannibalistic rats.

The commissioner

It's one thing to hear about naval ships, and quite another to actually see them up close.

Last Saturday morning, my son's school orchestra and band were invited to play on the U.S.S. Midway in San Diego. He rode down there on the school bus with them at 6:45 a.m. But because he had to be back up in L.A. later in the day to work at the Hero Complex Film Festival, I had to drive to San Diego in the morning to be ready to whisk him back immediately after his, if I may say, stellar performance.

Normally this is the part where I'd bitch and moan about having to wake up early on a Saturday morning and drive a couple hundred miles. But I'm not going to. Instead I'm going to tell you how glad and grateful I am that I did.

Not only did I get to see my son play crazy trumpet, which is a treat I never get enough of, I also got to see something I've never seen before: a naval ship being commissioned.

Christening and commissioning a ship are two different things. The first is where they crack a bottle of really good champagne over the hull and launch the ship into the water. Commissioning a ship is where the shipbuilder officially hands it over to the Navy, then the sailors and Marines board the ship and bring it to life (more on that in a minute).

The U.S.S. San Diego, the ship pictured here, was in the berth next to the Midway so I had a bird's eye - make that crow's nest - view of the proceedings.

It's all very ceremonial. There are lots of speeches and proclamations about what the ship means to the people who built it, the men and women who'll sail on it and to the defense and protection of the country. It's all very patriotic and extremely emotional.

And it all feels very right.

After the ship is handed over to the Navy, the command is given: man the ship. At that, the band strikes up Anchor's Aweigh and the sailors board it. Then the Halls Of Montezuma is played, and it's the Marines turn. Once aboard, they literally bring the ship to life. The radar dishes start turning. The flags are raised. The horn sounds.

It is very, very stirring.

The U.S.S. San Diego is a Naval transport ship for soldiers and equipment. You can see by the hard angles of it's design that it's meant to be a somewhat stealthier craft than older transports. As I watched these young men and women board the ship, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for them, and sadly, how many of them wouldn't be coming back.

When I see their enthusiasm, sense of service and professionalism, I can't help but be overcome with an unfamiliar feeling that's been in short supply for far too long. It took a minute, but then I recognized it.

Pride in my country.

Let Titanic rest in peace

Yesterday my family and I went to see Titanic 3D. The wife and I, along with our great friends Dave and Maureen (yes, that Dave and Maureen) originally saw the movie on the second day of its release at the Village Theater in Westwood when it first came out. Because the Village screen is so big, it felt like we were actually on the ship - even at the end.

They've got to get that air conditioning fixed.

You may know, I'm not a fan of 3D. And in this particular case I'm not sure it added much. But at least it didn't distract from the movie.

As I write this, a 100 years ago the Titanic was already underway on its fateful voyage. It's still one of the great "what-if's" of history, like the Kennedy assassination, Pearl Harbor, the Challenger shuttle or 9/11.

The movie was better than I remembered. Love story aside (still a stroke of movie marketing genius on Cameron's part), it gives an unflinching glimpse of the sheer terror that must've gone on in the two hours it took the ship to sink.

When Kathy Bates as the unsinkable Molly Brown looks back at the sinking ship from her lifeboat and says, "God almighty," she's speaking for everyone in the theater.

There's currently a diving expedition company that, for $60,000, will take you on a ten-day cruise out to the site where Titanic rests, and bring you down to the ship in a submersible for an up close and personal look. There've already been couples who have been married down there.

How far behind can the floating gift shop be?

The unrestricted scavenging of artifacts and ship parts by unauthorized divers and treasure hunters has already taken its toll. I think it's wrong. For all the fascination, Titanic, like the Arizona that rests under Pearl Harbor, is a gravesite that deserves the proper respect and decorum.

Even though it only sailed once, it's not too late to give Titanic a second chance.