My Movie Ban

January 11, 2017.Reading time 4 minutes.

Aren’t memories a lovely thing? Isn’t it amazing how we can sanitize them so that as we look back, the waves of time have washed over our lives and we recall only the good ole days? Even in the best of times, there had to be negative emotions, hurt feelings, or repressed fears. Yet through the Pollyannaish lens of the mind, most of those evaporate until we look back with dopey, satisfied grins at simpler and happier times.

Unless you have children to remind you.

In my memories, our children are all happy, well-adjusted, curly-haired imps who look at me in love and awe as I made all the right decisions and led the family on daring adventures and fantastic voyages.

In the drama of their minds, I play the part of a bumbling clown – Dick Van Dyke tripping over ottomans. While I remember sunshine and rainbows, they recall falls from horses, near drownings, and being afraid of monsters from stories I told because evidently I was a whooping maniac who hurled them into the deep end of the pool while I laughed sadistically from the shallow end where my feet always touched.

I don’t think they truly remember it that way, but they sure do seem to revel in the faults and foibles of the patriarch. They have passed through the childhood Land of Perfect Daddy and into the demilitarized zone that borders adulthood. At times, they demonstrate against the SDDS (Socialist Dumb Daddy State) where loud speakers boom amplified messages of all dad’s mistakes as propaganda to the less informed.

This Christmas, the wayward two were home from college and I was hobbled by a bum ankle which left a great deal of down time during which we watched old home videos and reminisced. And then I had the unmitigated gall to suggest a movie which brought up all the scars I had inflicted with my movie choices. In my defense, there was no PG-13 when I was young, so cursing was more readily acceptable in PG movies. Who knew the profanity that would assault their tender ears during Harry and the Hendersons? I only recalled a sweet sasquatch.

oflc_large_pg-svg — I do not qualify as guidance

I also had no idea the pain and trauma Jumanji would inflict. Nightmares of monkey boys affected sleep patterns for years. After that, their mother, who acts as the propriety police in all the lands of daddy, instituted a five-year movie ban and no longer allowed me to suggest movies from my childhood.

Just when it finally lifted, I made a new, holiday suggestion: Christmas Vacation.

Before you go saying, “I love that movie,” chances are you love the sanitized TBS version – which is all I have ever seen. Clark’s profanity-laced tirade in the theater edition might shock and surprise you. It did me… as I lay helplessly on the couch, knowing I had blown it… again.

Although I am sure my kids hear worse at their schools daily, the little covert operatives assumed the roles of prim saints in a tabernacle choir and acted shocked and morally compromised. It was quite a performance. They choked back evil grins and banded together while their mother issued a new movie ban… another long five years.

I get out in 2021.

What movies did you remember as clean and wholesome only to realize too late they were not?

A Friend’s Betrayal

January 4, 2017.Reading time 4 minutes.

A friend of mine tried to sabotage my marriage. Can you believe that?

I recall some flirting by a waiter about fifteen years ago and a college boyfriend declared his undying love for her shortly after our engagement, but I don’t think such an overt attempt to break us up has ever happened – at least not to my knowledge.

I typically don’t use my blog to hurl darts or call people out, but I feel like I need to shoot this so-called “friend” down so that he doesn’t attempt subterfuge that may cause harm to another happy couple.

In order to root out the culprit, let me establish a timeline of events on the night of December 30^th, 2016:

6 pm – My lovely wife and I split up (temporarily – for the evening only!!) – she went to meet her college friends and I went to this “friend’s” fireworks display.

9 pm – After the fireworks, said “friend” invites me into his home where he subtly offers a bowl of some type of toxic bean soup.

Exhibit A

3442031150_ba9d1cc1e9 — police artist rendering

10 pm – I say my thanks and goodbyes, not knowing the treachery that lies ahead.

10:45 pm – Something gently stirs within me on the ride home and it is definitely NOT the warm glow of friendship.

11:30 pm – My unsuspecting wife and I – still on good terms at this point – say goodnight and I retire, leaving her in the den with a daughter.

3:30 am – I am roused by an earthquake. I didn’t know we could have such a force majeure in Georgia. I hold onto the bed and wait for another tremor, wondering if I should wake the family to seek shelter.

3:34 am – A conspicuous fog wafting through our room instantly changes my Act of God theory to an Act of Me. Although it is a cold night, I reach for the remote to our ceiling fan in a desperate attempt to disperse the mist in our midst.

3:45 am – Amazed that my lovely wife’s slumber has not been disturbed, I slowly drift back to sleep.

4:22 am – I am shocked awake again by a violent rumbling that demands attention. I will spare the details except to say that no one was hurt when the porcelain exploded and by some miracle, my wife slept through the thunderous aftershocks.

4:59 am – Someone threw a concussion grenade into our bedroom. The facts and explanation remain unknown.

5:27 am – The dogs begin whining and begging to go outside. I assume their motivation is twofold:

a) to escape the odor
b) to escape the blame they typically incur for such smells.

6:05 am – Now awake for good, I find the room not safe for human habitation. It seems the cats are wearing radiation indicator dots and have constructed a very sophisticated air curtain system in our doorway. I take refuge with them in the den and hope that my lovely wife and our marriage lived through the night.

9:13 am – She groggily stumbles out of our room. The cats greet her enthusiastically when they realize she has miraculously survived.

10:45 am – The cats and I don hazmat suits and carefully sweep the bedroom with dosimeters I didn’t know we owned. Everything seems clear.

So, Snidely Whiplash, you have failed in your underhanded attempt to break up our marriage. Your bean-filled poison, although potent, seems to also possess a strong anesthetic effect on its victims. And plus, after nearly twenty-five years, she is a hardened veteran of this type of assault.