Slipping, Sliding

Old Movies

Tonight is Saturday, March 21, 2020. Each Saturday evening we are typically graced by a gentleman who comes to the Lodge to share a DVD movie with any of us willing to cuddle up to our blankets to watch. He usually makes microwave popcorn. He smiles a good deal and he's gracious and sweet.

A few weeks ago before the movie was turned on he faced us from the front of the room and told us it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to make movie decisions and to find movies and to bring them to us.

Then two weeks ago, he couldn't independently recall how to make the equipment work. He had another gentleman escort him and assist setting things up. That didn't work well. The guest friend couldn't master the equipment either.

Last week  he came alone and then a staff member graciously had to come assist with getting the DVD system operating. He didn't say much. There was no popcorn, and he was quiet when it was over. We'd sat through the film, but a few of us, including myself, selfishly admitted it wasn't one of our best enjoyed movies (that was a first time for me to be disappointed). We must have broken his spirit, because he didn't come back this week. I could kick myself for not thanking him instead of adding to his insecurity.

I will admit, before he left the building last Saturday, I waddled to my room and brought him back a 6 pack of extra-buttery popcorn so he'd have some for tonight, without any cost involved. That must have added to his incredible discomfort.

He's been brain injured as an adult and his capacities, including his speech are dwindling. His decline has happened rather rapidly in recent months. I must write him a thank you note for all the Saturday evening's he's kindly invested with us.

TONIGHT - "A Coal Miner's Daughter" ( Loretta Lynn??)

A staff member set up our movie tonight. I'd arrived a bit late, sat down in the dark and initially arriving at a scene where "Loretty's" future husband drives his jeep like a maniac, I nearly left again because the volume was quite high (remember??? everyone else is quite deaf???). But, something drew me in. I could barely recall having seen it years ago, but the music and the intermittent realism, poverty and warmth of it triggered, unknown or identified at that moment,  tearful memories. Scenes slipped in and out of mental file folders.  None were secure.

When Loretta's father died, she was so far away from home and him/family. I was so grateful my father had been with me when he died. I nearly cried aloud for my Dad to be with me tonight. He probably was and still may be, yet tonight.

Her dad treasured her and loved her openly. My Dad used to call me his "Princess" but I can't remember his ever being warm and fuzzy. He didn't know how to be.

There was a scene of Loretta dropping her children off for her mother to care for. She and "Doo" (husband) were heading on the highway to promote her first ever record on the "zero" label (the first she'd written).

It wasn't until I was leaving at the end of the movie, and pushing the elevator button down, that I recalled my Mom had babysat my children - at least once.  Maybe more. I can't remember it happening. My youngest daughter has told me more than once, and that's not missing from my current filing system, that Grandma had been "mean" to her while I'd been away. Apparently my Mom had decided it was time to toilet train her, and did it the old fashioned way. Funny, my adult children say I do things the "old fashioned way" with their children.

What I did remember, while alone and riding briefly down in the elevator, was that my Mom, took me out ONCE on a Mother-Daughter date. She was always working evenings and I watched my brothers. But this once, she took me to the movie "The Ten Commandments." She slept through most of it. She must have been incredibly tired and it was a long movie.

But somewhere during the evening, she gave me a wrist watch. When I noticed, it was her watch, I can't recall how I dealt with that moment. She obviously couldn't afford to buy new... I don't remember what happened to the watch, but I also don't remember if I was grateful enough for her effort and sacrifice.

I'm so glad I went to that movie this evening, but I still feel tearful because some of those "once in a life-time memories" are gone. My dad's death in my apartment is still intact (three or four images) but all the memories of my mother and I, together, are gone. I can hear her singing as she worked. I know she demanded I do things "properly." I believe we were friends for a time during my teens, but now, I can't recall what that was like or  how it happened or what we shared.

I do recall when she sat mid day to have "a coffee and cigarette" and to read a book Even as I approached my teens, she was still so slender.  She would sit one leg over the other, then she could twist the top leg around the inside leg, readily. It is her only seated position I recall.

I am grateful for bits and pieces, and one day we'll reunite and we'll laugh about things that are only forgotten for TODAY!!!