The Movies
I’m not sure the exact age I fell in love with romantic movies but I know I must have been sick. CJOH in Ottawa in the early 60’s played old movies at noon, for housewives I guess. The only way I could watch them is if I was sick or as my skill as an actress improved, as I faked illness. It wasn’t that I hated school I just loved old black and white romantic comedies. I grew very inventive with my illnesses with a little practice. There were a few mishaps with my tools, like cracking the thermometer with hot tap water. My mother was very lenient in this regard and I can’t believe she didn’t know that the spots under my arms would be smeared at the end of the day and make the connection to her ruined lipstick. However at once (probably more but I’m giving myself the benefit of the doubt), I would fix myself Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup and toast, put it on a tray and get comfortable in front of the TV. Excitement mounted with the Lion roared or the Statue of Liberty stood proudly as dramatic slightly off key music introduced the movie.
I would then be swept up in a world of stories, all with the same outcome. They lived, of course, happily ever after having had to go through a predictable plot. Boy met girl, girl played hard to get, boy goes to great lengths to win girl’s affection, girl sees something redeeming in boy, some character flaw of boy nearly ruins it all but at the last dazzling moment all is forgiven and they fall into each others arms while annoying music sends them into their bright and rosy future…the classic American Fairy Tale in it’s moral and satisfying conclusion.
I was pre-love age, not counting endless crushes, and believed it all. I fantasized about what my story would be.
My story was never like these movies. I fell in love quickly and many times, often as soon as a man showed interest. No playing hard to get on my part. I was always afraid they would give up.
I’m not sure the exact age I fell in love with romantic movies but I know I must have been sick. CJOH in Ottawa in the early 60’s played old movies at noon, for housewives I guess. The only way I could watch them is if I was sick or as my skill as an actress improved, as I faked illness. It wasn’t that I hated school I just loved old black and white romantic comedies. I grew very inventive with my illnesses with a little practice. There were a few mishaps with my tools, like cracking the thermometer with hot tap water. My mother was very lenient in this regard and I can’t believe she didn’t know that the spots under my arms would be smeared at the end of the day and make the connection to her ruined lipstick. However at once (probably more but I’m giving myself the benefit of the doubt), I would fix myself Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup and toast, put it on a tray and get comfortable in front of the TV. Excitement mounted with the Lion roared or the Statue of Liberty stood proudly as dramatic slightly off key music introduced the movie.
I would then be swept up in a world of stories, all with the same outcome. They lived, of course, happily ever after having had to go through a predictable plot. Boy met girl, girl played hard to get, boy goes to great lengths to win girl’s affection, girl sees something redeeming in boy, some character flaw of boy nearly ruins it all but at the last dazzling moment all is forgiven and they fall into each others arms while annoying music sends them into their bright and rosy future…the classic American Fairy Tale in it’s moral and satisfying conclusion.
I was pre-love age, not counting endless crushes, and believed it all. I fantasized about what my story would be.
My story was never like these movies. I fell in love quickly and many times, often as soon as a man showed interest. No playing hard to get on my part. I was always afraid they would give up.