I have been a movie fan for all of my life. I’m not sure when I attended my first flick but I have a memory of watching a huge reptilian monster destroying the world when I had not yet begun school because I was only four years old. I have a vague image and a sudden feeling of fear that only lasted a moment because I was sitting by my father who appeared to be amused by the whole thing. Later he and my mother would have a small discussion as to whether or not it was appropriate to bring me to view a frightening story. Daddy won with his usual wit as I seemed to be clueless about whatever the story might have been, but in reality I do remember feeling quite terrorized for a moment. 

My next memories focus on the movie Shane which premiered in nineteen fifty three when I was around five and a half years old. I remember that story as though I had read it word for word in a book. I loved Alan Ladd as much as my father did. I remember thinking that I had seen something amazing which was probably supported by my father’s animated discussion of how great he believed the film to be. It was much like the film High Noon that was another of my father’s favorites and which I only partially recall watching with him and my mother. I only knew that there was a gunfight at the conclusion of that story and that the hero was brave and willing to stand up for what he believed was right. Such characters always reminded me of my mother and father.

Only months before my father died he took the family to see The Mountain with Spencer Tracy. Daddy boasted that Mr. Tracy was perhaps the greatest actor of all time. His favorite movie was The Old Man and The Sea which I also vividly remember.  If a movie came out starring Spencer Tracy we were certain to attend a viewing. So it was with The Mountain, a story of two brothers making a treacherous climb in search of a crashed plane. It was an intense tale that I was able to follow because by then I was eight years old and my father had told me many stories that were probably somewhat adult for a child. I felt as though he was part of a secret world that only grownups enjoyed because of my father’s honesty.

For a time after Daddy died we mostly watched old black and white films that came on the local television channels late on Friday and Saturday nights. My mother made a big deal out of those times with popcorn that she made in her iron skillet and snacks that were not allowed during the week. We gathered on the floor of our living room in our pajamas bundled in blankets while the stories unfolded in the darkened room. I finally got to see a few romantic offerings since my mother enjoyed that kind of entertainment much more so than my father had. I learned from her who the heart throbs of her day and been and listened with great interest as she described going to movies in downtown Houston with only twenty five cents needed to cover the bus fare, the cost of the ticket and a small snack. She made those days sound wonderful in the gilded theaters where the stars jumped off of the big screens. 

Eventually a local movie theater featured a Saturday Fun Club that allowed my mother to have some free time to run her errands without three children tagging along. She would drop us off with fifty cents which is all that we needed to enter the theater, buy some snacks and settle into four hours of games and double feature movies. It was a glorious time!

Later my Aunt Polly took a second job as the cashier at the Trail Drive In. She would wave our car through at no cost and since my mother prepared all of our food and snacks for the evening we never had to spend a dime. Of course we took advantage of that perk and spent many many evenings in the humid weather of Houston viewing one great movie after another. Mama would pack the car with pillow for anyone who grew wear and wanted to sleep but I always stayed awake with her to the very end. We ate sandwiches and munched on a grocery bag full of popcorn. We sipped on sodas that came from our ice chest and sometimes even enjoyed candy or cookies in the mix. 

Now and again Mama let me bring my friend Linda Barry along. She and I were like sisters back then but eventually she went to public school while I stayed at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Catholic School. We developed new friendships and interests and drifted farther and farther away from each other. Much later when we were adults we got back together and laughed at our antics at the drive in and reconnected through our mutual memories. 

My love of movies continued with my friend Pat who suggested movies that neither my husband or hers would have attended. We hauled our children along and became frequent flyers at nearby theaters. After a flick we often went to the Fifty Nine Diner for a late night snack. She became like a sister to me and a fabulous aunt to my daughters. Those were truly glorious times.

Once our children were grown Pat began searching for movies that the men would also like and so we became a foursome laughing and crying and thinking about the stories that the features told. When we were not in the mood to go out Pat often rented videos to watch while we munched on homemade snacks that brought me back full circle to those nights of my childhood with my mother and brothers. 

I don’t go to movie theaters as often as I once did. It can be a very expensive kind of entertainment. A quarter or fifty cents would no longer get us in the door. We can wait to view the films that we want to see on our big screen television with speakers that make us feel that we are in a luxurious theater. Only once in awhile do we treat ourselves to a night out where we lounge in comfortable seats and have that glorious feeling that always runs through my mind when the lights are dimmed and the feature begins. 

I suppose that I will always love movies and the creativity that makes them. They form a link from my earliest memories to the present that I have so enjoyed. I hope that they will remain an important part of my life. It is so wonderful to escape into other worlds for a time and to feel as though nothing matters but the story being told.