Since the dawn of time, our household has been making fun of Dad for being a softie. And I have obviously been at the forefront of this movement, as with most of the family taunting that goes on. I get the ball rolling, at least. That’s my job; I’m the one who won’t let you get away with anything. Val’s job is to be the sweetest little bleeding heart liberal and to laugh at our (my) jokes (thus avoiding almost any teasing, as it may happen), Ty’s job is to play music loudly, eat all the food, and get away with stuff Mom never would have let us do, and Carly’s job used to be to be the cutest baby sister ever, although she has taken over as family smart aleck in my absence. I think she may even be better at it than I am, but if I ever get zinged I just pull rank – I will never let her forget I’ve got 12 years on her. As for Mom, her job is to clean obsessively, take up for us all (but for Ty way more), and be the world’s best listener, and Dad’s job is to take us to the best shows, be the family ATM, and to tell long stories (slowly). Oh and also, to be the uber-sentimental one.
It all began when we were watching Disney’s Beauty and the Beast at the old, old house on Round Rock (which used to just be the old house, but it has been demoted since the family moved to Forney). It was the early 90s and we were all elementary school aged or younger (and Carly wasn’t even around yet). This was what I like to think of as the heyday of Disney films. They really had us in their clutches back then. The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Lion King – man, things were looking good for Michael Eisner and co. They couldn’t go wrong. We were buying what they were selling, that’s for sure.
The charm of Disney films was that even adults could enjoy them. It wasn’t like watching Barney with your child, where the incessantly stupid songs would get stuck in your head and you would slowly lose your will to live. Disney films were smart. Clever dialogue, heart-wrenching plots, real life themes, and humor that would go over a child’s head were deliberately inserted into Disney films by these genius writers to make the movies even more marketable. Hence, even our dear old Dad was watching B & the B with us and enjoying it too.
If you don’t remember how the movie ends, or somehow haven’t seen it, this is what happens (spoiler alert!). The Beast is turned human again at the very last second by falling in love and in turn winning the love of Belle, his prisoner, the usual beautiful Disney heroine. There’s a lot of hoopla and it’s got all the magical happy ending music and everything works out perfectly for Belle and the Beast (whatever his real name is). It’s touching, really. But I still remember looking up and seeing Dad’s face (and forehead) turning red and his eyes welling up with tears. At such a young age, crying out of joy was an unknown concept to me, so all I could say was, “Dad! Why are you crying?! It’s not even SAD.”
And so began a lifetime of taunting Dad for being sentimental – threatening not to have him walk me down the aisle at my (totally theoretical) wedding because I don’t want any blubbering, asking if he can handle it when we watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Because my heart has always been made of stone. I don’t cry at sad movies or Extreme Home Makeover or mesothelioma commercials where a man who has been blind for 40 years regains his sight. Because I’m hard.
Until now. Ugh. For the first 26 years of my life, those things were true. I prided myself on never shedding a tear. I was as cold as ice. But now, my ice-cold heart has melted, and I feel like I’m making up for lost time or something.
This manifested itself most recently this morning in my early class, when we were watching Disney film clips and putting mixed up song lyrics in order. The first song we did was “Circle of Life” from The Lion King. I had given the kids the lyrics all cut up and their job was to put them in order while the clip played, and whichever team got them in order first, won. I love activities like this, and so do the kids, so I’m just sitting there, patting myself on the back when I hear the opening strains of the song and the first words of the African chant the animals sing before the English words come on.
“Nants ingonyama!
Bagithi Baba!”
What a great song!, I think. What a wonderful movie, what a moving scene, it’s so amazing seeing all the animals and the sunrise, and the majestic King Mufasa with the baby Simba… – wait a minute! Then, lo and behold, I feel tears prick my eyes.
I didn’t outright cry or anything. I was able to get it together, but still, are you kidding me?! It’s 8:15 in the morning, and I’m moved to (almost) tears by a movie I have known since I was a child?! It’s like being potty-trained for your whole life and then suddenly having an accident. I can’t count on my sentimentality any more! Now not crying is like a skill I have to practice. This sucks. I usually like having feelings and stuff, but this has gone too far. Please, heart, don’t embarrass me, and in front of my students no less!
I would have kicked myself if I didn’t also find it hilarious.
So I have an apology to make, to both of my parents actually. To Dad, sorry about all those times I made fun of you for crying. But I bet stories like these make it up to you way better than this apology will. And Mom, sorry I laughed at you for putting “Circle of Life” on Nana and Granddaddy’s 50th Anniversary slideshow. Turns out it really is a sweet, sentimental song. I realized that the hard way.
And now you can both mock me for a change.
And here is a scene from the ABC show Modern Family that I think is hilarious. I'm so doing this when I adopt my Korean baby:
No comments:
Post a Comment