Confidentially…
What do Bugs Bunny, taking a bath, and a precocious vocabulary have in common?
This is a cautionary tale, a story of how ignorance and the nuances of language can combine with coincidence to convey an unintended message of a mortifying caliber. It is the true account of a boy who was unaware that the unpleasantness confronting him was a consequence of his own actions, for he knew not what he was doing. Thankfully he remained in this state of immaturity for several years, allowing his fragile psyche to recover from the staggering truth when, at last, the individual links merged into an undeniable chain of events.
To appreciate the predicament fully, we must begin in the middle. Our protagonist - let's call him, say, Bobby - is a quiet second grader at a Catholic elementary school. He is in the class of one Miss M., a teacher beloved by most students and yet prone to a certain foulness of mood when crossed. It is the very same Miss M. who once made a spectacle of her displeasure with Bobby's older brother (whom we shall call B.J.) and the sloppiness of his desk by dumping B.J.'s accumulated possessions onto the floor before his peers. B.J. stood there stunned and uncomprehending, wondering why Miss M. did not simply order him to clean out his desk rather than unleashing her pent-up fury. But Bobby does not know about this darker side of his instructor, nor can he conceive that he is about to similarly provoke her ire.
Please Rewind
Do the abbreviations SP, LP, and SLP mean anything to you?
The year is 2009. The setting: an elementary school. During a break between classes, I dart into the office and scan the staff mailboxes. Lurking in my apportioned slot is a shrink-wrapped, rectangular box of vaguely familiar dimensions. I retrieve the item and turn it over in my hands, noticing the logo of the publisher that sold us our recently adopted textbook series. Good heavens! I exclaim mentally, as an archaeologist might upon uncovering an ancient artifact. This is a VHS tape! I stand there bewildered for a moment, puzzling over the fact that a major educational publishing house has issued new product in this archaic format. It's a little like having an auto dealer hand me a crank to start my car.
Though VCR's still doggedly fast-forward and rewind within the dusty, pre-fab entertainment cabinets of many homes and upon the media carts of outdated classrooms, the formerly ubiquitous devices are in terminal decline, destined for exile in an archival land of film projectors and 8-track players. DVD's are already experiencing their own heyday, with clouds of streamable digital content predicted to make those aluminum discs obsolete. If it weren't for the voluminous amount of existing VHS tape preserving all that has yet to be digitized, getting your hands on a functioning VCR might be as difficult as tracking down a vintage pair of parachute pants. One day soon, they'll be as quaint as turntables, available exclusively as a means to transfer precious analog moments to your hard drive.
I can still remember the twinge of jealousy I felt when I heard that the Walsh family down the block had a VCR.
The Price of Vandalism
Ramp to nowhere: the morning after fire destroyed the Sway Fun glider.
Where were you on the Saturday night after Thanksgiving? That's what the police will be asking you, if they ever discover that you were responsible for the apparent act of arson that lit up the field behind our house like a campfire gone awry. Have you thought about what you might say? If your alibi doesn't persuade the authorities of your innocence, they're likely to stare into your guilty eyes and demand an answer to the question the whole neighborhood is wondering: What were you thinking?
I can only speculate - and hope - that you weren't thinking. Because if your irresponsible and cowardly crime was the deliberate end of thoughtful planning, then breaking the law is merely the beginning of your problems. I would prefer to think that you are young, perhaps one of several peers involved in a prank that got out of hand before it could be stopped, and the whole unfortunate incident is very much contrary to your character. I would like to believe that you are ashamed of your actions and consumed with regret. I wish that you could muster the tremendous courage to step forward, admit what you have done, and begin the long journey to make a complete reparation for it. That is the most optimistic scenario I can envision.
Yes, Wonderful
Ever have one of those days?
"I've been nominated for membership in the National Geographic Society."
"Aw, youth is wasted on the wrong people!"
"This old thing? Why, I only wear it when I don't care how I look."
"Well, I'm sorry - HEY!"
"Out you two pixies go, through the door or out the window!"
If the previous quotations are instantly recognizable to you as lines of dialogue from It's A Wonderful Life, and if you cannot read the words without also hearing them and visualizing their associated characters, then you and I have something in common. We're two among the countless devotees of the 1946 Frank Capra classic, its sights and sounds replaying within our cerebral folds after many hours of repeated exposure. There's only one reason why anyone would voluntarily watch a movie again and again, and that is, of course, that you like it. Obvious, right? But the widespread appeal of this film is varied, and perhaps the only thing upon which all lovers of it will agree is that it is a great movie.
As for me, and in the words of Henry F. Potter, "I'll go further than that." I think It's A Wonderful Life is as close as anyone has come to making a perfect narrative movie.