Revisiting the past

Some movies have a special place in my heart.

I'm not big on film ownership, but SO is, so we have a significant collection. We recently revisited a film from the Eighties, one that I think on fondly. Apparently, there's a scene in Andy Samberg's "Hot Rod" that rips off a scene from Footloose, and the boys wanted to see the original version.

Come to find out, it's not a great idea to watch a fondly-cherised film from your college days with a couple of smart-mouthed kids. I think they prefer the Andy Samberg version, which I thought was juvenile. Footloose is pretty juvenile, too, but I loved it then and I love it now. It really does encapsulate the 80s for me. I went to see it with a bunch of college pals in one of those old theaters -- the kind that only played one film and had an enormous lobby. After it was over, we all danced down the aisle to the credits and continued our dancing out in the lobby. Most of us were Nazarene kids who had grown up being told of the evils of dancing, so few of us had any kind of moves, but it was a blast. That's why the movie was so great. It felt like our story.

Come to think of it, it still feels like our story. Oklahoma feels strangely similar to that creepy little town. Weirdly, I just googled the thing and Wikipedia states that it was loosely based on events that took place in the farming community of Elmore City, Oklahoma.

No wonder it felt (and still feels) so familiar.

Voldemort can't stop the rock

The boys are aficionados of Wizard Rock. This started a couple of years ago with an introduction to Harry and the Potters. They moved into a darker realm with Draco and the Malfoys. Over the weekend, we had the opportunity to hear The Remus Lupins sing at one of the libraries. Opening acts were Ginny and the Heartbreakers and The Whomping Willows.

I've always been impressed with the creativity that comes with this level of fandom. While the voices might not always be exactly on key, and the music might be off a little, the lyrics these kids write are pretty good. That being said, I shudder to think what the next months will be like as the boys play their newly-purchased CDs over and over again. I've already heard way too much of the Wizard Rock albums they already have. Let's just say it's not a peaceful way to spend an evening.

Once the warm-up bands had played, it was time for The Remus Lupins. A spry group of young men jumped onto the stage and urged everyone to come up to the front and dance. Luckily, I'd run into the Crafty Minx, and she was willing to go up with me and give it a whirl. Lego, ever the watcher, declined. He stood beside me, but refused to dance, sway or even tap a toe. Sport took his lead from his big brother and remained stoic. They were like sour little Southern Baptist ministers in their quest to remain cool.

So it was left up to me, Crafty Minx, about 35 girls under the age of 21, and 4 boys to be an interested and energetic audience. The other adults stayed in their chairs. We rocked out for about an hour. My feet started to hurt. I realized I was the only person over the age of 40 up there. I tried to swivel my hips in a sad imitation of the girls in front of me, but those years I spent as Nancy Nazarene killed the rhythm in me.

As Sport glowered at me ("You're embarrassing me!" he hissed), I thought back to a birthday party I'd taken him to when he was about 3. Someone put on ABBA's Dancing Queen.

"Dance with me, Mommy!" he begged. I grabbed him and we whirled across the gym floor. He wasn't the least bit self-conscious.

It's so sad when they start wanting to be "cool" and forget how to have fun. But maybe it will come back. There were plenty of college boys in the back, jumping up and down and rocking out to the music.

They were probably drunk.

Bottlefinger

We visited the taqueria on Saturday. LegoGuy loves the authentic Mexican tacos, and Sport wanted to try one of the 12 oz bottles of Coca Colas hecha en Mexico.

I don’t know if it’s nostalgia or the cane sugar, but damn, those Cokes taste good. I nearly chucked my can of Dr. Pepper and ordered one myself. As a kid, we used to get glass bottles of Coke down at our local ice house, along with a bag full of candy for about a quarter. We could bring those bottles back in for a 5 cent refund. It was a perfect circle of addiction. We’d spend hours looking for those green glass treasures, turning them back in at the end of the week for another sugar rush.

My kids treated these Coke bottles like a rare find. Both wanted to keep them as a collectible. Driving home, Lego was examining his in the hot afternoon sun. The next thing I knew, he had it stuck on his middle finger, jutting out like an overgrown obscene gesture.

“What on earth possessed you to stick your finger in there?” I tried to feign indignation, but it was too funny.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop myself.”

"Well, at least you didn't put a bean in your nose. That would be worse."

He looked so comical with that thing on his hand. Eventually, he turned it upside down and let the remaining cola lubricate his finger enough to pull it back off. This was my comic relief for the day. I couldn't stop chortling about it.

On Sunday, I got another dose of laughter. Sport, learning a new piano piece, was playing it much too fast.

"It's a waltz! If people tried to dance to your beat, they'd be doing the jitterbug." I tried to show him how two people might waltz at the correct tempo.

He gave me a look that would have destroyed the tender psyche of a weaker woman.

"Mom, stop. I really don't need to see you dancing."

I left the room so he couldn't see the amusement on my face. He was so scathing in his criticism. And hilarious.