Category: Growing Older But Not Up

Moving Pictures

On By SandyIn Doing things differently, Growing Older But Not Up, Love2 Comments

I have a sink full of dirty dishes waiting for me, but MyTallerHalf (MTH) insists that I need to head over to Life in Pixley to talk about his stellar selections of movies this weekend. I am happy to oblige.

I should mention first off that Pixley does not have a movie theater, though an old marquee downtown shows that wasn’t always the case. When we want to see a movie in a theater, it involves crossing county or state lines. Usually, we watch films at home,

I should also mention that our tastes in movies vary quite a bit. We are of one mind that The Lord of the Rings — both the books and the movies — is vastly superior to all other choices. Otherwise, I tend to prefer romantic comedies, light fantasy, and science fiction if it isn’t too bleak,. I don’t mind a bit of violence if it is necessary and the ending is uplifting. I love The Patriot, Braveheart, and Gladiator. I hate Pulp Fiction. I tend to become emotionally involved with a movie, and when I’m watching, I get pulled into the story. I don’t like distractions or interruptions. I also don’t enjoy sad movies. Life is hard, and I do not need reminders. I can take a little of the bittersweet — think Steel Magnolias — but most of the time, I think bittersweet is best left to chocolate.

MTH loves the darkly emotional. He revels in the poignant. He enjoys a good tragedy. This makes him a deeper, more complex individual than I am. I like The Secret of Roan Inish. Nothing lifts the spirits like seals, selkies, Irish music, and a couple of nice kids fixing up the cottage for their grandparents. That’s entertainment!

Watching movies with MTH is not a passive activity. This was one of the most difficult hurdles I have had to face in being his wife. He watches a movie with his iPad opened to IMDb. He sometimes stops the movie to tell me some anecdote about the making of it or something about the actors. Sometimes, he asks me to back it up to look at some obscure detail. The topic of whether the actors are still alive is always addressed. We are at that age where obituaries are beginning to get a bit personal.

To be honest, I hated this at first. But after a few years of this, I find myself asking the questions for Mr. IMDb to research. I learn a lot from him. Instead of viewing something quietly side by side, we are engaged with both the movie and each other. MTH makes watching a movie an interactive event.

This weekend, we watched two movies, both of his choice. The first was Stalag 17. I’ve heard about it all my life, but I have never watched it. War movie. Ick. He was right. It was a terrific film, though not at all like Hogan’s Heroes as I expected. Five stars!

Tonight, we watched Hoosiers in memory of Gene Hackman. I was not happy at the prospect. Sports movie. There are a lot of great sports movies, but rarely would they be a top pick. He already convinced me to watch Field of Dreams, and I liked it, but Slap Shot was depressing. I was not optimistic, but MTH was right again. I thoroughly enjoyed it and was cheering the team on throughout the film. Underdog overcoming adversity, decent guy helping others, a budding romance — what’s not to like?

I love watching movies with MTH now. I love his passion and perspective. I love the way he catches things I miss. I am even slowly, grudgingly learning to appreciate a few movies outside of my comfort zone. Just spending time with him is a pleasure.

Epilogue

I woke up at 4:00 a.m., and MTH was not beside me. I padded out to the living room, where he sat staring at his phone.

Are you okay?

Yes, I’m just watching this movie with Buster Keaton in it. It’s amazing.

Buster Keaton? Oh, brother!

But I sat down and he screencast it to the television. We both spent the next hour talking and laughing while watching a film made 100 years ago. In those moments, all was right with the world … or at least, in Pixley.


Snow Day

On By SandyIn Faith, Growing Older But Not Up, Storms, WeatherLeave a comment

The excitement has been building for days. Forecast models began showing the possibility of snow across the Gulf Coast. I have been dreaming of experiencing a really good snow since I was a little girl. I wanted White Christmas complete with sleigh bells. I wanted to build a snowman, to ride on a sled, to throw a snowball, and make snow angels. Every corny Christmas movie scene was attractive to me, and I wanted to experience it all — just once. But as the decades rolled by, I was becoming resigned to the fact that I probably would not.

MyTallerHalf (MTH) is less enthralled with snow than I am. He has seen it. He has experienced it. The sound of snow crunching under his feet sets his teeth on edge. Be sure to make the snow angel first thing, warning me by his tone that it is the last thing I should do. Apparently, they never tell you in the movies that the snow melts, and your back ends up cold and wet.

Our dog shares MTH’s sentiments. I had imagined her barking and leaping to catch snowflakes on her tongue. Instead, she did her level best to avoid any contact with them. Not everyone sees the wonder.

I have been glued to James Spann’s YouTube channel, worried about my citrus trees and the strawberries I had just planted, yet expectant. Day by day, it seemed more certain that it would snow clear down to the beaches. At first, it was half an inch, then one inch, then two. When they reported an improbable six to eight inches, the excitement was palpable.

Yesterday afternoon, it began. It started with a few flakes so small they reminded me of dandruff. I am not completely new to snow. I have seen a few flurries. I remember it snowing in Orlando in 1977. It melted when it hit the ground, but I made a tiny snowman on my mother’s car. I was in college during Snow Jam ’82. The amount of snow on campus was disappointing, but Atlanta was shut down for days. I have seen snow in Montreal when I visited a cabane à sucre with friends. A few flakes fell, and there were mounds of dirty snow frozen solid along the edges of streets and paths. No snow angels, snowmen, or snowball fights were to be had, though we did ride in a wagon pulled by a horse with sleigh bells. That was lovely.

The snow kept coming, faster and harder, with fat flakes easily seen. At first, they dusted the ground, then there were patches of white, and after a couple of hours, there was a proper blanket of snow across our yard. It was so quiet. So perfect. The snow continued to fall.

The world was not completely silent. The birds were frantic. They seemed to sense the oncoming storm and continued to chirp and to empty our feeder as the snow fell. Neighbors, young and not so young, trampled the snow in the street in front of our house. Occasionally, the silence was interrupted by sounds of conversations, laughter, or an excited shout. Some had never seen snow in their lives. Some were reminiscing of past snows. There were no traffic sounds. Everything closed for the storm.

It was still snowing when I went to bed. When I woke up in the middle of the night, it was no longer snowing, but the ground was a thick blanket of white. Inside, it was cozy and warm. Outside, our lilies were covered in snow. MTH said it looked like 4-6″, and that seems about right. It will be a cold day. The snow will not melt right away. I thought of snowmen, snowballs, and snow angels. These are things I will probably not experience in my life, but I am content.

I experienced a really good snow, in Pixley, no less, and like every good and perfect gift, I know it came from our Father. I am still smiling, and I am sure He is smiling, too.

Of Cartwheels and Carts

On By SandyIn Growing Older But Not Up, StormsLeave a comment

About thirty years ago, I was walking along the beach with a friend. As we walked and reminisced, I got it into my head that I should do a cartwheel. After all, I had been able to do them easily when I was young. My mind remembered how to do it, how it felt. So I tried it, and I discovered that while my mind might remember how, my body did not. Years, pounds, and babies had changed things. It did not go well. Everything hurt, and I learned a valuable lesson. I might think I can do a cartwheel, but I cannot.

This afternoon, I had finished loading my car with groceries and put the cart in the corral. There was a tornado warning and a severe thunderstorm warning for our area, and I had a long drive ahead of me. I was organizing things in the car when I saw a cart, probably my cart, rolling quickly towards a shiny black pickup truck. I didn’t think. I dashed. Or, at least, I tried to dash. My brain told my body to move quickly to stop that cart. My upper body responded, and I leaned into it, arms pumping, trying to catch the cart. My legs and feet said, We’re sorry, but this service is unavailable at this time.

I realized too late, when my body was heading toward a 45-degree angle with the ground, that I can no longer dash. At that point, my goal was no longer to save the truck but to avoid a pavement facial. Somehow, probably with angelic assistance, I managed to stay upright long enough to catch the cart, inches from the truck, and then to catch my balance. As I turned back to the cart corral, all the other carts were blowing toward me. A woman who witnessed the whole thing looked at me in shock.

I thought you were going to face plant.
`
So did I.

I’m so glad you didn’t.

So am I.

By the time I got into my car, my lower back, my neck, my right calf, and my right shoulder were aching from whatever they did to keep me from landing on my face, and I was reminded once again that I can’t do all the things I think I can.

The drive home was uneventful. The three turtles weren’t on their branch. The water is too high. The storms have mostly passed, and now we have nothing but cooler weather ahead of us. My entire body hurts, but it could have been much worse, so I am content. Growing older isn’t easy, but it is better than the alternative!