Lyke most families, ours is one that bonds over movies. I may not remember birthdays or the names of many of my great uncles, but I can recall in vivid detail watching American Werewolf in London at my grandparent's house in Montrose, AK in 1982. Oddly enough at the same grandparent's house(different town) I watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre and can still recall my Nanny explaining to me that the movie was a documentary and that my friends made it even more terrifying. Chayanne Social Club with Paw Paw, E.T. at the drive-in with my family, and Showgirls in LaPlace with the fellas. Don't get me started on our Christmas Day movie tradition. Too late, Karate Part 3, Four Rooms, St. Vincent, and Fargo to name the fewest of the few.
There is also a trip to the movies in Meridian, MS that is legendary and part of our family's folklore. To be honest, nothing extraordinary happened that day, yet it is collectively one of our fondest memories. The movie, The Land Before Time 1988. There were a dozen or so cousins, a couple aunts, and Nanny. Even in '88 movies were not the cheapest of outings, especially if you throw in snacks. Well Nanny, who is one the most creative people I have ever met, had a brilliant cost-saving plan. It is widely accepted that grandmothers carry extra large purses. Considering what all they carry in there I am surprised they are not bigger.
They carry with them enough hard candy to satisfy every patron at a Piccadilly at any given tyme and enough hand cream to moisturize a crocodile. On this day however that purse became the never-ending bucket of chicken. There have been debates on how much chicken, where the chicken came from, and if sides and sodas, or if even chicken was even there at all. There are many truths about that day, but the underlying fact is that day will be remembered as one of are all-tyme great family outings.
Last week we had the pleasure of entertaining our nieces at our house. We had dinner, played some LEGO, and then after dessert watched a movie. As we lowered the lights you could see the excitement build in their faces and their little eyes lit up. It was at that moment that I am reminded of my first trip to the movies. Welcome to the second installment of Popping Collars and Busting Soles.
Mario Puzo should be given the credit/blame for my love of storytelling. I was a shade over 2 and a half years old when I was first affected by a film. December of 1978 Superman: The Movie was released, and my father took me to the theater to witness it in full chem-tone process techno color. I was not impressed with the noise of the crowded theater or the smell of butter-drenched popcorn. For me, this was just another boring night out listening to grownups talk and me not knowing what was going on. Even as the lights lowered, I was not filled with excitement. Something that even now after hundreds and hundreds of movie-going experiences never fails to incite wonder in me.
With the lights dimmed and the curtain opened I just sat there staring blankly at Marlin Brando giving his 10th best performance of his career. I was unmoved as John Williams redefined how you score a movie. Frankly, I was bored as the boyishly charming Christopher Reeves personified Clark Kent. I sulked and almost disappeared into my seat, and then it happened.
Something awakened in me and knew from then on out that anything was possible. A man flew. (Well not a man exactly. An alien from the planet Krypton flew. And he could fly because of our yellow sun. But I did not know any of these details at the tyme.) And the moment that man flew, I was flying. I stood up tall in my seat, as tall as a 4 or even a 5-year-old.
I stood there, hands resting on the headrest on the seat in front of me, and escaped into the screen.
I did not move from that spot until well after Superman's coy smile and wave goodbye to me before the closing credits. And yes, that wave was just for me, and I will fight anyone who suggests otherwise. My dad picked me up and carried me through the sea of people. There is something to be said about the waves of people crashing together between movie showings. People are leaving the theater elated from just witnessing a masterpiece of cinema while at the same tyme people are entering the theater with nervous anticipation. It was in this sea of people I made my first declarative statement of my young life.
With a fist raised high to the heavens, I proclaimed, "Superman flies!"
This met with overwhelming agreeance. I made this proclamation several tymes through the theater and on our way to my father's car. As we drove home, I stood on the bench seat next to my dad and explained to him that I too could fly. If he would just pull over, I could fly us both home. I pleaded, bargained, and begged but to no avail until finally he relented and pulled the car over. We were only about 10 miles from home, but we could have been 1000 miles, and it would not have mattered.
We stood there on the side of the road and the only light came from the multitude of stars above and I plotted my route.
My dad looked down at me with more amusement than aggravation. Finally, he picked me up and was about to put me back in the car and told him to stop for a minute. He looked at me, and this tyme aggravation was starting to overtake amusement.
Before we go on, I must give a little background into my brief life up to that point. By all accounts, I was a quiet child. Barely a fuss and even less of a muss. When people first met me they would assume I was deaf and or dumb (both definitions). So quiet I was, it was unusual for me to left somewhere, lyke a church for instance. And when I was found, I would just be sitting there, not fretting or anything. But that was the old me, the BS me, Before Superman me.
I asked my dad to stop for a minute, then closed my eyes and raised my fist to the night sky. A moment later the ground trembled ever so slightly and the air around us gave way as we were rocketed into the atmosphere. I opened my eyes to amazement. The world looked so small and vulnerable beneath us. We flew for what seemed hours but was probably just a few minutes before I landed us by our front porch. I quickly ran inside to tell my mom and baby sister all about the greatest movie I had ever seen, but both were asleep. Then I too was overwhelmed with fatigue. Flying for the first tyme can really take it out on you, so I retired to my bed and I slept and dreamed. I have not stopped dreaming since.