Christmas Story

Last Saturday night Vicki and I watched The Christmas Story, and based on our ability to quote almost every line in the entire movie, I figure between us we’ve seen it about 216 times, give or take. Some of my favorite lines:

- Never had the words flowed from my penny pencil with such feverish fluidity.
- My father worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium, a master.
- We plunged into the cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice.

So good!

Anyway, this time I noticed something different. Perhaps I’m growing a heart, I don’t know, but the scene where Ralphie beats up on Scott Farcus was less funny during viewing 217. In fact it made me downright sad. But what’s even weirder is that I don’t think it was sad for the obvious reasons: i.e. because Ralphie gets a snowball in the face or because Ralphie is afraid his dad is going to find out when it’s all over. No. This time I found it sad because I couldn’t think of a time in my adult life when I have felt such pure emotion let alone been able to express it the way Ralphie does in that scene. Ralphie going berserk and beating the shit out of Scott Farcus one minute, then bawling his eyes out in regret the next is as honest as you can get. This time I saw the truth there. This time seeing Ralphie lying (laying?; I never get this tense right!) in bed after it’s all over with the tears rolling down and the snot flowing really got to me. The same goes for Randy as he sits under the kitchen sink crying. (“Daddy’s gonna kill Ralphie”) These boys’ emotions are pure and unfiltered, and to me, enviable. In fact, right now, at this moment, I can’t think of anything more enviable than experiencing those kinds of emotions.

Bring it on Love! Bring it on!