There was a period from my mid-twenties to my mid-thirties when I went to the shows and grabbed a bite with my Oldman.
It was the late 1980’s towards the new millennium.
We hit several of the theaters near the neighborhood and a few of our top restaurants throughout this period.
The memories are dearest to the movies we saw at the Lake Theater in Oak Park and cheeseburgers at Goldy’s just on the other side of Harlem Avenue in Forest Park.
Last night I watched one of those movies that I saw once with my dad. A movie I haven’t seen in thirty years.
The movie was "Legends of the Fall" with Anthony Hopkins and Brad Pitt.
The Oldman left the theater that night grumbling about how Anthony Hopkins saved this mediocre film. He thought Brad Pitt was recreating his role from another movie we saw together, "A River Runs Through it."
My Oldman saw himself to the father growing older and me to the son still trying to tame his youth.
I was in my twenties at the time and thought I knew everything about everything, and my dad had forgotten everything about everything.
Last night I realized I was wrong and cried every time Sir Hopkins bonded with Brad Pitt.
The lines from the father in the movie echoed the advice given at the table at Goldy Burgers...
...and the same wisdom I find myself leaning on today in the Divorced Dad District.
We grow old quickly in raising our children, protecting them from themselves and the cruel world we bring them into.
The movie and bite to eat period in my life occurred when I was off on my own making mistakes at LaSalle and Jackson over on Oak Park Avenue and everywhere in between.
Sitting over cheeseburgers, French fries and bottles of beer was a father and his son reviewing movies and relating them to life.
I tossed and turned last night thinking about chalking down these memories.
I concluded that the time I had with my father wasn’t long enough and my time as a father won’t be long enough.
And a tear rolled down my face when I think of one of the last things my Oldman muttered on his deathbed, “I’m proud of you, you magnificent son of a bitch….”
I’m not sure why it took me thirty years to see this movie again. Maybe because it stuck with me that Don Shepley gave a thumbs down with his patented fart noise raspberry sound.
It is going to be a gorgeous spring Saturday. Go find some gusto and astonishment.
Maybe find someone you love and go to the show and grab a bite afterwards. The memories in thirty years will outlast the movies box office draws.
The rain and clouds should subside and bring a chilly sunny afternoon. Try and smile back at the sun.
