Datebook: Thursday, August 10th

I keep thinking that things are so much worse than when Anne Murray sang about needing “A Little Good News”. Although our focus seems to be channeled into Lake Placid results, where teams will go for sectionals, JGPs, GPs, sectionals, and nationals, underneath it all we are all aware that there is little good news happening in the world—or at least it isn’t getting much coverage on CNN.

Knowing this makes it even more incredulous that I decided to take my son to see “World Trade Center” today, but off we went for the 1:00 matinee. We had planned to go for Rita’s Water Ice afterwards, but neither of us could actually contemplate swallowing when we walked out into the afternoon sun.

Instead, we needed a fix of comic relief and if we could have main-lined Chris Rock jokes we would have been junkies for sure.

Oh, for a piece of fruit sprayed from Gallagher’s mighty mallet.

I will confess that I am really not a good movie companion in the best of situations. I tend to cry easily. I am particularly morose at Disney movies. Even the cartoon epics. This is apparently like a childhood illness such as asthma or diabetes, because it tends to get worse with age. It is now impossible for me to watch any movie with an animal or young child. Sometime during that movie the animal/child will be orphaned, suffer the loss of a friend, become lost and or lonely, or be injured.

I practically needed to be medicated after watching Incredible Journey, My Dog Skip, and Lion King. (I know, I probably should seek help for this…) Because of my propensity to sobbing my children were never allowed to watch or own the classic of all horror stories, Bambi.

My reactions have had a tremendous impact on my children.

My son will peruse the reviews looking for potential pit falls before he will go with me, and if one pops up unexpectedly, like the renewed popularity of Mariah Carey, he will leave the theater and go to the bathroom (example “Independence Day”, the scene with the Golden Retriever in the tunnel).

My daughter, on the hand, either laughs or ignores me. She shakes her head and says, “It’s not real. It is make believe. What is wrong with you?”

I was quite frankly worried about a child who did not shed a tear when there were only 14 puppies left in “101 Dalmations” so I proceeded with an intervention.

I made her watch “Beaches”, “Terms of Endearment” and “Steel Magnolia’s”.

And she just raised an eyebrow, “What’s the problem. These are movies. They are acting.”

Right. And Johnny Depp is just a man.

It just wasn’t natural.

I am only slightly mollified when she finally admitted that she got a bit misty-eyed during “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”

“Did you actually cry?” I asked skeptically.

“Almost.”

“Did you need a tissue?” I pressed.

She just looked at me, in that oh-so-45ish-going-on-18 face.

“Then it doesn’t count!” I admonished.

So, the points that I discovered after the movie today--my son was really putting himself out there, going to a movie guaranteed to need hankies. I’ll give him a big hug for that later.
The second, when my daughter sees it, she will finally understand that it doesn’t matter if it is only a movie and that they are only acting.

And, the third, is for Anne Murray. Our good news is right in right in front of us, or at least sitting beside us.

Mombo #9