This might sound profoundly strange to anyone reading this, but one of my happiest memories in my entire life took place in an almost completely empty house. No couches. No beds. No nightstands. No bookshelves. Nada. All we really had there was a working refrigerator and washing machine. Probably a dryer too, but that's besides the point. Now, you'll be wondering, and quite reasonably so, why a month or two in a place like this would spawn such fondness in my memory.
Well, it was moving time for my family. We were moving from our old house to our new house, and during that time we rented this small, quaint place with thick brown carpet that could swallow a quarter, you know the kind I mean, and I vaguely recall dark walls. Almost everything we owned was stowed away in cardboard boxes inside of moving trucks. The only things we managed to have with us there was a TV, a VHS player and some sleeping bags. But instead of it being a boring and vacant place, for my childish mind it was an open canvas. There was no school for us, so it was our small budding family in this little place. But that's really all we needed.
My parents had purchased all three Indiana Jones movies and a few toy plastic pistols, I distinctly remember them being a German Luger and classic 1911 fittingly enough, and that alone was to fire the imaginations of my brother and myself. See, without any furniture, there was almost nothing for us to worry about breaking in any of the rooms. So we ran back and forth, shouting, mimicking gun noises and stabbing our pistols at each other, then rocking as imaginary bullets tore through us, gagging as we fell to the ground. Sometimes we'd team up and take down entire platoons of enemy bad guys! Poor little brother, his body count rarely exceeded fifty in a single engagement. I had to do all the heavy lifting!
Good old Indy! Square jawed, charismatic, charming, armed with his hissing whip, pistol, knuckles of cast iron and most importantly, his hat, he was everything I wanted to be as a sprog. Getting into fights with bad guys, escaping dangerous traps, going to exotic locations and finding epic treasures. All perfect things for a young boy! Although it wasn't until I got older that I understood how women fit into the daydreams. Perhaps it was for the best that I was blissfully ignorant of what happened off the screen in those stories!
Night and day we would binge watch these and other movies while gorging on junk food. And my mom, dad and little sister were always around too. I can't recall too well, but I don't believe my dad had work at that time. Maybe he did, but it didn't feel like he had to go off to work. So he was with us there too. He and mom would spend time together peacefully, telling us to quiet down a little if we were killing too many Nazi's and to share our guns and stuff of that nature. In our defense, even back then we were American to our core and preferred the 1911 to the Luger. The latter was a clunky weapon with a poor trigger. Then again, maybe Matel hadn't polished the plastic squirt gun trigger correctly.
Nevertheless, it was amazingly peaceful having everyone around together, camping out in the living room together. I recall this also being the first time I was exposed to caffeine. That special stuff that keeps you from sleeping now matter how tired you are. Poor kid though I was! I didn't realize the sodas I was chugging like a child dying of thirst would curse me that night with the inability to get even a single wink! Insomnia in a can, truly!
Ahhhh but the joys didn't stop there! When my brother and I winded ourselves from constant combat, my mom introduced us to those quaint movies that women love so much, musicals. My dad was the outdoorsman and iron worker in the clan and taught my brother and I how to be tough and self reliant, but my mom kindled in me the love of softer and finer things in life, higher culture in the form of nuanced songs, music, dance choreography and romance. Honestly, even now my occasional craving for a decent musical movie is the result of her sowing the seeds during that small period. That was the first time I watched Singing In The Rain with the hilarious high pitched voice of the villainess, Lina L'Amont. The voices being knocked out of sync for the premier of the new sound picture in the movie forever burned itself into my memory and I suspect greatly influenced my sense of humor.
Ahhh and what's more, one of my favorite movies of all time, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers was introduced to me in that fine little den! Laying on my stomach so I was level with the screen, my mom drew me in with the big fist fight at the barn raising. What a glorious battle! Big red-headed men in colorful shirts trading blows with loud pops against all the stuffy bad guys in the black and brown shirts, bashing in walls and cracking beams as if they were made of balsa wood! What great men they were! Taking on three times their number and triumphing brilliantly! So great was their prowess in fisticuffs that they literally broke down the barn they had almost finished raising!
Well, that's what she used to lure me in. As an adult I can far better appreciate the other aspects of the movie besides strong men bashing each other in the face. Those seven fellas had voices that made angels weep with envy and choreography that leaves me spellbound. Truly a classic that I cherish watching even now. If I watch it at night with the lights low and tune out all the other extravagances I've surrounded myself with, I feel myself being pulled back to that empty little house and those fun evenings.
The Sound of Music never quite rubbed off on me though. Not sure why, but my mom could never get me to drink the Kool Aid on that one.
There were a hundred smaller adventures in that little place. My memory is terribly fuzzy about it now, which makes me sad, but the warmth and joy of that time is still with me. Good movies, fun with family, eating popsicles for all meals like a barbarian, all rolled up into the course of maybe a month. Only a drop in the pond for even my comparatively short life, but it's one of the sweetest memories I have. I miss those simple times. But I'm glad I got to enjoy it then and remember it now. Hopefully, with some luck and effort, I can relive it with some kids of my own. All I need is a small place, some movies, a few family members and imagination.
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