The Last Picture Show

It's been almost thirteen months since I last saw a movie at a theater. What was once a weekly ritual has, over the course a year, become an almost distant memory. The Covid-19 pandemic has wreaked havoc on everyone's lives, to both a greater and lesser extent. I'm pretty fortunate to be able to wax nostalgic about the lack of movie-going and, to be fair, theaters have been opened for some time now. However, even as theaters re-opened, I didn't feel comfortable going back. I have some underlying health issues that could result in a potentially serious time of it, should I be infected with the coronavirus. But now, Ashley & I are fully-vaccinated. So are several of our friends. We're going to see a movie tonight, at a theater, for the first time in over a year. I'm a little overwhelmed at the thought.

A lot has been said that our lives after Covid "will never be the same." We hear about how, already, the world is different than what it was. There's talk of the "new normal." Okay, perhaps. Life for many of us has definitely been different the past year, and that will no doubt continue for at least the near future. And, for some (too many), lives were lost because of Covid-19. But I'm looking at the long-term. And, to do that, I look into the past. Just the other day, I was watching footage of New York City and Los Angeles from the 1930s and '40s. Just 10 minutes or so of everyday people doing their thing. It was particularly fascinating to see, in light of our recent pandemic experience, the throng of people in those videos, all of them close together, none of them masked. Life had moved on from their 1918-20 pandemic.

Almost every evening, I watch an episode of the old Perry Mason TV show (1957-66), starring Raymond Burr in the title role. Burr was born in 1917, so he was a baby when the last major pandemic swept the world. Some forty years later, looking at life in California depicted on the program, you'd never have known what had happened some four decades prior. Much like ourselves pre-2020, people lived their lives in normal fashion. It may sound strange, but, looking at vintage television, newsreels and decades-old restored footage of everyday life gives me hope for our own future. Many of us are psychologically scarred at the moment. It's natural for us to pronounce that life will never be the same again. My hope is that we're wrong.

Tonight, six of us who've been vaccinated against Covid-19 are going to the movies. Part of me feels elated at the thought, and part of me feels a bit awkward about it. That is too be expected. I'm figuratively emerging from a hole and blinking at the sunlight. Mostly, it feels good, but it also feels strange. I want to hug our friends when we see them (assuming they're ok with being hugged). Heck, perhaps Ashley & I will even go out for dinner at our favorite restaurant before the show? Maybe, maybe not. Let's not get too crazy.

Kind of like, post-cancer, when my body was weak and I could barely walk (more like shuffle) for a half-a-block around my house, I never take walking for granted now. It sucks that we have to go through bad times to appreciate things more, but I'll never take going to the movies for granted again. Or anything fun, or (especially) social.

Who ever thought I'd be so giddy at seeing a big ape and a city-destroying dinosaur duke it out on the big screen?