Two weeks ago, I spent time entertaining/ hosting my brother and my mother who flew out here to California from Baltimore. This is not a post about how horrible the visit was or how I couldn’t wait for them to leave because that’s not the case.
Not at all.
I enjoyed the time we spent together and was sad when the visit ended.
One of the most enjoyable things to happen during the visit was watching my mom watch the movie, “Happy Feet,” with my brother at her side. My dad died when I was young and one of my lasting memories is my mom often taking my brother and me to the movies every couple of months to watch her favorite film star, Elvis Presley. For the record, between 1962 and 1968 Presley made 20 movies – and my mom saw every single one of them with her two sons, who I assure you would have much rather been somewhere else. I hate Presley movies.
My mom has rules for movie viewing. She doesn’t like or want to watch:
– any cartoons.
– any grown men acting silly. (No love for the Three Stooges)
– people cussing or having sex.
– any horror or gory movies.
Obviously this limits her viewing selection in today’s media market. Yet, she was thoroughly engrossed in the animated movie, “Happy Feet.” Then it struck me, “Happy Feet” was an Elvis Presley movie for her. There was the singing and dancing of a Presley movie and the boy got the girl after facing several challenges, but always remaining true to who he was.
I will go to my grave remembering the smile on her face as she watched the movie. Upon review, maybe the Presley movies weren’t that bad, after all.