Monday, December 28, 2015

Feed Your Children Well


White Christmas was released in 1955 when I was seven years old.  My parents took me to see it and I loved it.  Parts of it.  I thought it was a war movie at first and, even though there was singing in those uniforms, it seemed pretty somber.  But then came the Sisters number with those pretty dresses and that wonderful few seconds of dancing out on the docks.  I was hooked.  
 
The end of the movie just enchanted me, so much so that I begged my parents to stay and watch it again.  In 1955 you could buy a movie ticket and watch the same show over and over all day long.  My sweet parents agreed.  My mother was not a fan of musicals, so this was a bit of a sacrifice for her. I promptly went to sleep and slept through the entire movie except for the final scene.  My parents woke me up just to see that again. 
 
Every year since, I have watched that movie, usually while I decorate the tree.  I’ve always suspected it was the basis of my love for snow.  My December wedding was complete with fur muffs for my bridesmaids.  The scene where they throw open those doors to that winter wonderland gets me every time.
 
As I watched it this year, through tears as usual, I waited for them to reveal the snow to the audience in the inn and to me as well.  And my mouth dropped open as they yelled and waved when a horse-drawn sleigh drove through the scene.  Because that sleigh ride has always been number one on my list of “must do” things before I die.  (A nod to my sweet husband who made that happen for me last January in Colorado.)
 
So just read and say, “very sweet” if you wish.  But I’m still convinced, sixty years later, that a trip to see a Christmas movie made a huge impact on a seven-year-old.   

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