(no subject)
If you got to know my Dad when I was growing up, inevitably, at some point, you would learn that he had met John Lennon. They happened to be sitting in a movie theater together watching a horror movie. Yoko was there too. At some point my Dad turns to him and says: "Hold on, John!" And that's the story.
Now, at 71 years exactly, my Dad will pull a complete stranger's ear to him and tell this story. Usually to an unwilling captive audience like a sales associate in a shop or a waiter in a restaurant. I'm not sure it even qualifies as a non-sequitur because there WAS no previous statement. Just "you there, listen to this".
A story that was once part of the charm and history of this man has become a loud flag that says senile-seeming baby boomer, lost in dreams of 1970's San Francisco movie theaters and the Beatles.
Now, part of the horror of witnessing this moment, is not just the social weirdness of telling a stranger something so random out of the blue, but the kicker of this new habit my Dad has formed is that his eyes well up with tears as he makes his statement. I think for me, that's what makes this whole act unbearable.
It is heart wrenching to witness this deep truth of my father. This story is everything for him. It is the dream, it is the culmination of all of the nostalgia of having been born in 1950. My Dad was 19 years old in 1969. What a year to be 19 years old.
It's symbolic of the adventure of his life, in a short time there won't be people left who sat in movie theaters with John and Yoko. I guess I understand why it's so important for him to shout. And I also understand why it makes him cry. But it's unbearable to witness.
Happy Birthday Dad.
Now, at 71 years exactly, my Dad will pull a complete stranger's ear to him and tell this story. Usually to an unwilling captive audience like a sales associate in a shop or a waiter in a restaurant. I'm not sure it even qualifies as a non-sequitur because there WAS no previous statement. Just "you there, listen to this".
A story that was once part of the charm and history of this man has become a loud flag that says senile-seeming baby boomer, lost in dreams of 1970's San Francisco movie theaters and the Beatles.
Now, part of the horror of witnessing this moment, is not just the social weirdness of telling a stranger something so random out of the blue, but the kicker of this new habit my Dad has formed is that his eyes well up with tears as he makes his statement. I think for me, that's what makes this whole act unbearable.
It is heart wrenching to witness this deep truth of my father. This story is everything for him. It is the dream, it is the culmination of all of the nostalgia of having been born in 1950. My Dad was 19 years old in 1969. What a year to be 19 years old.
It's symbolic of the adventure of his life, in a short time there won't be people left who sat in movie theaters with John and Yoko. I guess I understand why it's so important for him to shout. And I also understand why it makes him cry. But it's unbearable to witness.
Happy Birthday Dad.