Friday was the first day of real summer in southern California. It was hot and is hotter still today. It's a dry heat though, one that has always accompanied my childhood summers and, so, I welcome the old friend. I soaked up the heat of the sun this weekend by the pool near family and friends. I know that although this is probably my last summer at home it will be very similar to those old familiar days trapped inside my memories. Days off of work will be spent with friends at the beach or at pool parties and BBQs with family. The hot nights will be spent lounging and looking at the stars in the clear warm summer skies.
I am a firm believer in the seasons of life. And all of this reminiscing and pondering has made me realize, I am in the summer of my life now. I am still inspired by the late blooms of the past season, but for the most part the newness of life that was my childhood spring is gone. I am fully grown now; not surprised by much. I willingly accept the growth process--the painful scorch of the sun that burns as it nourishes, the thirst for rain to supply and cleanse--yes, this is where I am meant to be. This is me. This is summer.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
No matter what...convenience...the road to hell...maybe
Friday night I saw Iron Man at the theaters with my family (great movie by the way). As I waited with my family for the long set of previews to start in the dimly lit theater amidst a hundred or so audience members, I saw an unusual thing. Out of the corner of my eye, a glimpse of color, a red box was being wheeled in by people dressed in burgundy and black cinema attire entering the theater. I looked over from one of the many repeating "Please silence your cell phones" ads on the big screen to appraise the situation. These were vendors holding boxes of candy and coolers of ice cream and standing in front of a big red box of popcorn.
I almost laughed out loud. As if the huge concession counter in the middle of the theater weren't enough, the managers are now instructing their employees to chase after the people who didn't cave and buy buckets of popcorn, or gobs ice cream--you know, those people who decided "well i spent five dollars in gas coming to the movie and another forty on me and my family, and let's face it as the true American family we are already busting at the seams from the fast food dinner we just ate, so we'll pass on dessert tonight, and just enjoy the movie." They walked through the wafting smells of popcorn and nacho cheese, they passed the endless glass cases of candy as their kids screamed, "please daddy, pleeeease mommy just one, just one!"
But they finally made it. They were inside the actual theater, the kids are finally calmed down--content in watching the paper bag puppets on the fandango commercial, and they are at peace. The movie will start soon and there will be nothing to worry about. Then, doom of all doom, the box is slowly wheeled inside along with the three concession stand workers, and it might have gone unnoticed if it weren't for those blasted bright colors. The kids once again are up in arms, their chubby hands on their parent's shirts pulling as they plead for just one box of candy or just one ice cream cone.
People are starting to stare now. Mom and Dad exchange a look of panic and finally cave, they figure, "We might as well, they won't shut up about it, and it looks kind of good to me too now." The self-control is finally broken and the three smug employees wait as Dad waddles down to the end of the aisle, (he's thankful that at least he doesn't have to walk clear out to the concession stand in the lobby--that would be too much exercise) and picks out his treats for himself and his family.
Aww..but that's the American way...they get us with the breaking down of our self control, with the playing on our nerves, and with the blasted convenience of it all.
But I just laugh and take another handful of popcorn for myself...the movie is about to start.
I almost laughed out loud. As if the huge concession counter in the middle of the theater weren't enough, the managers are now instructing their employees to chase after the people who didn't cave and buy buckets of popcorn, or gobs ice cream--you know, those people who decided "well i spent five dollars in gas coming to the movie and another forty on me and my family, and let's face it as the true American family we are already busting at the seams from the fast food dinner we just ate, so we'll pass on dessert tonight, and just enjoy the movie." They walked through the wafting smells of popcorn and nacho cheese, they passed the endless glass cases of candy as their kids screamed, "please daddy, pleeeease mommy just one, just one!"
But they finally made it. They were inside the actual theater, the kids are finally calmed down--content in watching the paper bag puppets on the fandango commercial, and they are at peace. The movie will start soon and there will be nothing to worry about. Then, doom of all doom, the box is slowly wheeled inside along with the three concession stand workers, and it might have gone unnoticed if it weren't for those blasted bright colors. The kids once again are up in arms, their chubby hands on their parent's shirts pulling as they plead for just one box of candy or just one ice cream cone.
People are starting to stare now. Mom and Dad exchange a look of panic and finally cave, they figure, "We might as well, they won't shut up about it, and it looks kind of good to me too now." The self-control is finally broken and the three smug employees wait as Dad waddles down to the end of the aisle, (he's thankful that at least he doesn't have to walk clear out to the concession stand in the lobby--that would be too much exercise) and picks out his treats for himself and his family.
Aww..but that's the American way...they get us with the breaking down of our self control, with the playing on our nerves, and with the blasted convenience of it all.
But I just laugh and take another handful of popcorn for myself...the movie is about to start.
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