Almost anyone my age knows the tail of a sweet mouse named Fievel and how he gets separated from his Russian family on the way to America. It's like an animated Godfather II but also a musical and directed by Steven Spielberg. I loved this movie SO MUCH when I was a kid.
Because of the Finding Nemo Incident a few years ago (see another post) I thought it prudent to give a little caveat before the movie - "You guys, this movie is from my childhood, and I hope you'll love it too. I just wanted to tell you, there's a song in it that my dad sang to me a lot when I was a kid, so I might be emotional. Just a reminder that it's ok to cry...or not cry...or express however you feel in Room 20."
Since I cry all the time about everything, my class basically took this with a grain of salt and we settled in super cozy to watch the movie. Every so often the kids might glance over, but I was surprised how focused they were. They loved "An American Tail!"
The song started that I think of as Greg's song, and the kids were so into it... except out of my peripheral vision I could sense one kid rudely staring right at ME. Wtf? Was he waiting to laugh at me? Hoping I would cry? Knowing he was looking at me, I felt completely disconnected from the music and unemotional. Still he kept looking. Finally I got pissed and looked directly at him to make a mean face... and big silent tears were rolling down his face and disappearing under his collar. Oh shit - HE was crying.
This was the kid who has yelled at me, told me he hated me, kicked a chair I was sitting in, and "dabbed" with pride when I said my feelings were hurt. This was a kid who the only way I could consistently calm him down was with this hand squeezing therapy I'd read about in a book for children with anger issues.
I don't think he was looking at me to laugh at me; I think he was checking to make sure he was safe. I wondered what he was crying about. I wondered what my writer pop would have made of a character like this kid. I wondered what kind of kid Greg was. Then I wondered if Linda Rondstadt (who sings the song) is still alive, and if I had any more coffee by the sink, and the moment was past and we finished the movie and it was great. The kid and I didn't talk about what happened during "Somewhere Out There."
These are the lyrics that always get me:
"And even though I know how very far apart we are,
It helps to think we might be wishin' on the same bright star,
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,
it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky"
I do have to give this class credit; they were probably the most enthusiastic group of kids ever about stuff from my own childhood. They liked old movies and old music and old games. Gets me thinking about how Greg loved to share his favorite things, and how many of them are mine now too. I don't think a kid can take very much of the credit if her sweet sixteen party is Godfather themed, with red-and-white checked tablecloths and spaghetti. Or like how if you ask Dillon about any dead person (including Greg) he always says that they're "in Heaven with Ray Charles." That kind of cool is inherited, not inherent.
Happy father's day pop - you're one of the coolest. Miss you every day.
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