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Saturday, August 19, 2006

Family Ties

Saturday, August 19, 2006 By , No comments

When I think back upon my parents' activities when I was growing up, there are a few constants: books, books, books, crossword puzzles, and popcorn. I swear, for the first five years of my life I thought my parents' heads were made of paper. They were always reading something: newspapers, books, magazines, you name it, and there was popcorn just about every night. There still is. You can set your watch by the ding! of the microwave oven going off on my father's nightly bag of popcorn.

In fact, my recognition that appliances don't come as wallpaper in a home was the addition of an air-popper that my parents bought. It was in the years before microwave popcorn, and it was a noisy behemouth of a machine that took up a lot of counterspace but had this little grate at the top into which you put a pat of butter that would slowly melt and drip over the popcorn as it popped. A fan at the bottom blew the popcorn throught a spout into a waiting bowl.

Damn, we loved that thing. If we were playing in our rooms, and heard the takkatikkatakkatikkatakkatikkatakkatikkatakkatikka of kernals falling into the metal bottom of the machine, we'd come running for our smaller bowlsful. And also, to make sure that they didn't put too much butter. Cholesterol has never been a concern for Dad.

We muched it, lying on the carpet in front of the TV, enjoying Special Network Presentations of "My Fair Lady," "The Sound of Music," "Gone With the Wind," "Mary Poppins," "Barefoot in the Park," and "The Wizard of Oz." This was, of course, before HBO, VCRs, video rental stores, DVDs, Netflix, and, finally, YouTube. It was still the heyday of the movie theatre, and these presentations were a total treat. Sunday nights it was the Disney presentation of the week, Friday nights brought "The Muppet Show," but most of the time it was movies we waited for. Lots of them were in black and white, such as "To Kill a Mockingbird," "National Velvet," and "It's a Wonderful Life."

Last night, the Imperial Theatre unveiled its new marquee. At a cost of $250,000, it didn't come cheap, but it was specially designed to look like the theatre's original facade, but with an incredible high-tech twist. All-in-all, it is a fantastic addition, and we wanted to be there for the unveiling.

Outside, there were Model T's and other antique cars lined up along the street, which had been closed off for the evening. A crowd gathered outside, and mayor Deke Copenhaver gave a lovely speech. Emerson goggled at everything from her stroller as Scott moved around the crowd, interviewing folks for WGAC news. After the crowd counted down from 10, the curtains dropped and the marquee flashed on and - oh, it was perfectly beautiful. Everyone admired and applauded the effort, then streamed inside for the festivities.

Polite and smiling young ladies with "cigarette girl" boxes around their necks greeted us with boxes of free popcorn, and sodas were complimentary at the cash bar. Inside, silent films from Charlie Chaplin, the first performer to ever grace the Imperial's stage, played while an organist rocked the Wurlitzer. We met and chatted with dozens of people we knew - friends and family, commissioners and candidates, media and PR, and just plain folks. We wrapped purple and green glowsticks around Emerson's ankles and I wheeled her stroller down closer to the front of the theatre so that she could see the screen.

She was entranced. She sat with her popcorn box in her lap, stuffing her face and refusing to share with me (she pulled the box away and squealed "NO!" every time I tried to take a few kernals), utterly engrossed in Chaplin's many failed attempts to get his drunk self up some stairs to bed. I watched her, watching the screen, and shot sapphire bullets of pure love at her (I'd have hugged her but she'd have thought I was trying to get her popcorn). I reveled in the hometown feel of the whole event and then realized what Emerson reminded me of.

Kicked back in her chair, goggling at black and white movies, hoarding popcorn, she looked totally like my dad.

And that is awesome.

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