Mom's view:
Every year around this time I watch my very most favorite Thanksgiving movie, “Home for the Holidays.” I know most people prefer “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles,” which is hysterical, I’ll grant you. But to me, no movie has ever captured the sweet discomfort of a large family get together better than “Home for the Holidays.” I cringe every time I see it. This year, _______________ watched it with me.
For anyone who hasn’t had the joy of watching this movie, it’s about a fortyish single mom (Holly Hunter) who is going home for Thanksgiving dinner. Right before she leaves, she loses her job, makes out with her (ex) boss and finds out her teenaged daughter is planning on losing her virginity over the holiday. She is rapidly getting sicker with a cold, loses her coat in the airport, and is deposited in this condition in a Midwestern town to a nervous mother (Anne Bancroft) and a good natured but somewhat chuckleheaded father (Charles Durning).
The cast of characters is rounded out by the gay, hysterically funny brother (Robert Downey Jr.), who is the black sheep of the family in numerous ways, the uptight, self-appointed watchdog sister (I forget this one’s name but I love her) and her similarly uptight family, and spinster Aunt Glady (also don’t know her real name), an eccentric woman who drinks too much and says grossly inappropriate things at the family dinner. The movie’s theme is families: how much we are different, how little we understand each other, and how much, ultimately, we belong to one another. Although I’m always horrified at the beginning of this movie, by the end the family’s craziness has become familiar and I find myself feeling a little nostalgic already.
The only completely unbelievable thing about the film is the fact that Robert Downey Jr. brings along a gorgeous, semi-normal guy (Dylan McDermott) who has seen Holly Hunter’s picture and wants to get to know her. I think the point of this is that the producers wanted to make sure we didn’t all go home and slit our wrists. If this was my family, someone would have brought over a reclusive neighbor with stained pants because they felt sorry for him and he would be the one who found me unbearably attractive. I’m just saying.
Anyway, ___________________ and I are going down to Florida this year to spend Thanksgiving with my mom and stepfather, my stepsister, and her two daughters. We have four divorces between us. I’ll also see my father (two divorces) and my grandmother on his side (widow). My ex-husband lives in Florida, and will be coming to Thanksgiving dinner as well. Even pared down to its most elemental form, it sounds crazy doesn’t it? And when you get into the nuances, it’s even more tricky.
As in “Home for the Holidays,” there will be issues. Someone will be mad at someone else, someone will be hurt, someone will drink too much, and someone will say the wrong thing. Actually, it’s quite possible that I’ll be responsible for all of these things. By the end of the trip, though, I will be sad to go. Because whatever its form, this is my family, and they belong to me. Whether they like it or not.
Son's view:
I liked this movie. I liked how the movie was set up in chapters. The family was funny and all the times the brother did something stupid it made me laugh. The mom was funny and when she took off her wig I thought that she was an evil old lady. My favorite part of the movie was when the brother told her to get into the car and then he drove away.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
I Scream. You Scream.
Mom's view:
I was asking for it by picking the topic “Perfect Mom” right after Rake Wars 2009, clearly, because I think I sounded like an ogre in ___________’s post. I was really bothered by it, but when I went to work a friend quickly disabused me of the notion that it was as meaningful as I thought.
“It’s just because he wrote it while you were upset with him about the raking. If you’d picked the same topic the day after Christmas it would have been a whole different post.”
I confirmed this with __________, later on. “Remember your post about the perfect mom?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you’d written that the day after Christmas?”
He paused. “I might have focused more on the good things.”
Note to self: Do not be so stupid in the future.
Still, an unsettled feeling lingers, primarily revolving around the part where ______________ asked that I quit yelling at him so much because it scared him. This is despite the fact that I outed myself as a yeller in my own post, and despite the fact that I know the reason it scares him is because I don’t do it very often. It doesn’t bother me that he asked me to quit telling him what to do, which I laughed about, or that he asked me to quit being cranky, which I also laughed about. It bothers me that he talked about the fact that I yell. It bothers me a lot.
So I have to ask myself, “Why?”
I read an article not too long ago in my favorite newspaper, the NYT, about yelling. The article proposed a theory that yelling was the new spanking, which is something I immediately discounted.
“They’re not the same at all,” I told the computer. (In case you’re having trouble making the leap, I was reading the paper online).
I abhor spanking. I draw a clear line in the sand when it comes to physically reprimanding children, as I don’t see what possible purpose it serves. My argument against spanking is this: As far as I can tell, my purpose as a parent is to teach my child how to be an independent, moral, thoughtful adult. Punishment should teach, not hurt. If I spank my child, I’m acting in a violent way, out of anger, and it’s not teaching my child anything. When I am forced to deal with a difficult client or co-worker, I do not end the issue by slapping them. I work to come to a resolution that is thoughtful and appropriate. Why would I give any less to my child, whom I supposedly love?
Something like that. And that sounds really super mature, doesn’t it? I like to think so. I tend to espouse this theory while staring slightly above the head of the person to whom I am talking, as though I’m carefully pulling deep and meaningful thoughts out of thin air. If I could get away with smoking a pipe while pontificating, I’d do that too.
But here’s the thing. The very same argument I make about spanking could be made about yelling. How exactly does yelling at anyone help anything? What does it teach? I don’t solve issues at work by yelling, and even though I’m less likely to get fired if I resolve an issue by yelling than by smacking someone, I would still be risking my job. Why is it so easy to draw the line in the sand for physical violence, as opposed to violence of voice?
People always comment when they see a parent slap or spank a child in public. It’s inevitable. They say things like “Oh, good parenting,” or “Call DSS,” and some people even get so upset that they threaten the offending parent with violence. I hate seeing a parent act like that in public. Absolutely hate it. It scares me, and I feel sorry for the child, and I want to cry myself. But really, I feel approximately the same way when I hear a parent yell at a child. That voice raised in anger, the child clearly upset; it is all very disturbing. The parent never looks good in any situation where yelling or hitting is involved. Never.
On the other side of the coin, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with exhibiting frustration. Kids do rotten, stupid things. A lot. At least six times on a Tuesday. I’ve left _______________ in the back yard with a popsicle and a pat on the head, only to return to a shirtless, wild eyed savage standing over a wailing neighbor child wielding the splintered stick fifteen minutes later. Things can degenerate pretty quickly without discipline. Kids need to understand when they’ve done something that angers, or disappoints, or frustrates. They need to understand that actions have consequences. I don’t know that it’s so wrong for a child to know that, say, for instance, when you say you’re going to do the raking and you bail out on your mom so she has to go out and basically do it herself, and the one time you finally help you claim you have to go to the bathroom and then spend a half hour changing your shirt and reapplying your Axe body spray, this makes her mad. This would make anyone mad. If you don’t do your work at a job, you’re fired. If you don’t do your work at school, you get bad grades. What consequences do we, as parents, have to offer?
We’re not supposed to make food a reward or a punishment. I get it. Television? That doesn’t make much sense either. If you’re doing well at school you get to watch more television? Kind of sends the wrong message I think. So what then? You get to sleep with a blanket if you toe the line? That’s the thing with yelling. Unless you’re one of those people who screams all the time, like this guy I knew who I think was from the Ukraine and just basically yelled everything he thought, it’s a pretty clear indication to someone that you’re upset. That’s why it scares ______________ when I yell. He doesn’t want to disappoint me, and yet I’ve been disappointed. By doing whatever he’s done, he’s thrown off the peaceful calm of our usual existence by nudging. Mom. Right. Over. The. Edge.
But then again, it doesn’t seem to help. You’d think he could put two and two together, right? Like eventually he’d say, “Hmmm. When I say I’m going to do something and then I don’t, it seems to make mom mad. Maybe I should do what I say I’m going to do and AVOID the anger.” For some reason it doesn’t work like that. Instead, I believe the thought process goes something like, “Mom’s mad again. She’s crazy. Where’s my Kit Kat?” I’m guessing based on facial expressions.
____________’s “Perfect Mother” post bothered me so much because I agree with it. Yelling is a gratuitous outlet that serves little purpose other than release for the yeller. But when the deed is done and it’s beyond unacceptable, what do you do? How do you demonstrate levels of offense in a calm and moderated tone? Exactly how many times will I find myself outside, holding my rake (that he peeled the foamy cushioned handle off of, by the way), alone in a sea of leaves?
Son's view:
I think that yelling isn’t necessary in all situations. You deserve a good yelling when you’ve done something really wrong. But when you’ve done something not so bad you don’t deserve to be yelled at. You give them a lecture. This is just as bad as yelling. Yelling is loud and it intimidates the person you are yelling at to yell back. Which starts a fight. Now, when my mom yells at me, most of the time it is for a good reason. But once in a while she gets mad at the little things. So I guess that she doesn’t yell when she doesn’t have to.
I was asking for it by picking the topic “Perfect Mom” right after Rake Wars 2009, clearly, because I think I sounded like an ogre in ___________’s post. I was really bothered by it, but when I went to work a friend quickly disabused me of the notion that it was as meaningful as I thought.
“It’s just because he wrote it while you were upset with him about the raking. If you’d picked the same topic the day after Christmas it would have been a whole different post.”
I confirmed this with __________, later on. “Remember your post about the perfect mom?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you’d written that the day after Christmas?”
He paused. “I might have focused more on the good things.”
Note to self: Do not be so stupid in the future.
Still, an unsettled feeling lingers, primarily revolving around the part where ______________ asked that I quit yelling at him so much because it scared him. This is despite the fact that I outed myself as a yeller in my own post, and despite the fact that I know the reason it scares him is because I don’t do it very often. It doesn’t bother me that he asked me to quit telling him what to do, which I laughed about, or that he asked me to quit being cranky, which I also laughed about. It bothers me that he talked about the fact that I yell. It bothers me a lot.
So I have to ask myself, “Why?”
I read an article not too long ago in my favorite newspaper, the NYT, about yelling. The article proposed a theory that yelling was the new spanking, which is something I immediately discounted.
“They’re not the same at all,” I told the computer. (In case you’re having trouble making the leap, I was reading the paper online).
I abhor spanking. I draw a clear line in the sand when it comes to physically reprimanding children, as I don’t see what possible purpose it serves. My argument against spanking is this: As far as I can tell, my purpose as a parent is to teach my child how to be an independent, moral, thoughtful adult. Punishment should teach, not hurt. If I spank my child, I’m acting in a violent way, out of anger, and it’s not teaching my child anything. When I am forced to deal with a difficult client or co-worker, I do not end the issue by slapping them. I work to come to a resolution that is thoughtful and appropriate. Why would I give any less to my child, whom I supposedly love?
Something like that. And that sounds really super mature, doesn’t it? I like to think so. I tend to espouse this theory while staring slightly above the head of the person to whom I am talking, as though I’m carefully pulling deep and meaningful thoughts out of thin air. If I could get away with smoking a pipe while pontificating, I’d do that too.
But here’s the thing. The very same argument I make about spanking could be made about yelling. How exactly does yelling at anyone help anything? What does it teach? I don’t solve issues at work by yelling, and even though I’m less likely to get fired if I resolve an issue by yelling than by smacking someone, I would still be risking my job. Why is it so easy to draw the line in the sand for physical violence, as opposed to violence of voice?
People always comment when they see a parent slap or spank a child in public. It’s inevitable. They say things like “Oh, good parenting,” or “Call DSS,” and some people even get so upset that they threaten the offending parent with violence. I hate seeing a parent act like that in public. Absolutely hate it. It scares me, and I feel sorry for the child, and I want to cry myself. But really, I feel approximately the same way when I hear a parent yell at a child. That voice raised in anger, the child clearly upset; it is all very disturbing. The parent never looks good in any situation where yelling or hitting is involved. Never.
On the other side of the coin, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with exhibiting frustration. Kids do rotten, stupid things. A lot. At least six times on a Tuesday. I’ve left _______________ in the back yard with a popsicle and a pat on the head, only to return to a shirtless, wild eyed savage standing over a wailing neighbor child wielding the splintered stick fifteen minutes later. Things can degenerate pretty quickly without discipline. Kids need to understand when they’ve done something that angers, or disappoints, or frustrates. They need to understand that actions have consequences. I don’t know that it’s so wrong for a child to know that, say, for instance, when you say you’re going to do the raking and you bail out on your mom so she has to go out and basically do it herself, and the one time you finally help you claim you have to go to the bathroom and then spend a half hour changing your shirt and reapplying your Axe body spray, this makes her mad. This would make anyone mad. If you don’t do your work at a job, you’re fired. If you don’t do your work at school, you get bad grades. What consequences do we, as parents, have to offer?
We’re not supposed to make food a reward or a punishment. I get it. Television? That doesn’t make much sense either. If you’re doing well at school you get to watch more television? Kind of sends the wrong message I think. So what then? You get to sleep with a blanket if you toe the line? That’s the thing with yelling. Unless you’re one of those people who screams all the time, like this guy I knew who I think was from the Ukraine and just basically yelled everything he thought, it’s a pretty clear indication to someone that you’re upset. That’s why it scares ______________ when I yell. He doesn’t want to disappoint me, and yet I’ve been disappointed. By doing whatever he’s done, he’s thrown off the peaceful calm of our usual existence by nudging. Mom. Right. Over. The. Edge.
But then again, it doesn’t seem to help. You’d think he could put two and two together, right? Like eventually he’d say, “Hmmm. When I say I’m going to do something and then I don’t, it seems to make mom mad. Maybe I should do what I say I’m going to do and AVOID the anger.” For some reason it doesn’t work like that. Instead, I believe the thought process goes something like, “Mom’s mad again. She’s crazy. Where’s my Kit Kat?” I’m guessing based on facial expressions.
____________’s “Perfect Mother” post bothered me so much because I agree with it. Yelling is a gratuitous outlet that serves little purpose other than release for the yeller. But when the deed is done and it’s beyond unacceptable, what do you do? How do you demonstrate levels of offense in a calm and moderated tone? Exactly how many times will I find myself outside, holding my rake (that he peeled the foamy cushioned handle off of, by the way), alone in a sea of leaves?
Son's view:
I think that yelling isn’t necessary in all situations. You deserve a good yelling when you’ve done something really wrong. But when you’ve done something not so bad you don’t deserve to be yelled at. You give them a lecture. This is just as bad as yelling. Yelling is loud and it intimidates the person you are yelling at to yell back. Which starts a fight. Now, when my mom yells at me, most of the time it is for a good reason. But once in a while she gets mad at the little things. So I guess that she doesn’t yell when she doesn’t have to.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Perfect Mother.
Mom's view:
I picked this topic, and I hope ______________ doesn’t say I’m perfect because it isn’t true. I assured him that he could be honest and that it will not affect his rapidly expanding Christmas list, but I’m a little afraid that maybe he just doesn’t know any better because he’s 11 and because he hasn’t gotten to that stage where he realizes that I’m a moron and shouldn’t be allowed in public. Of course, I have been amazed by how much ___________ does know, so maybe he once again pinned the issue down in a lot less sentences than I will write. It will be interesting to see.
I’m a single mom. A really single mom. I don’t really date, which I claim is because I don’t want to but I suppose it’s viable that no one wants to date me either. Being a truly single parent (as opposed to someone who jumps from “uncle” to “uncle”) tends to make you and your child a fairly tight unit. It also puts you in a position where you are on your own, with no one to tell you that you are being unreasonable or crazy when you impose discipline, or when you get a particular parenting idea in your head. You can discuss these things with other family members, friends, or co-workers, but only in small doses or else they become uncomfortably aware that you don’t have a life outside of being a mom and tend to suggest that maybe you should consider dating.
On top of the fact that I’m immersed in subjective parenting on a daily basis, I also have no idea what a perfect mom might be. I’m not suggesting, via this post, that such a thing exists in some concrete way, because that’s clearly not the case. But I am suggesting that there may be a set of criteria to which a parent might aspire in order to do better. I’m just not sure what those criteria might be.
My mom was, and is, a good mother. Not a perfect one, because she’s a) human, b) had to deal with external factors that sometimes impeded her ability to parent me, and c) suffers from congenital bossiness. Factors A and B affect everyone. Factor C is unique. My mother is the type of person who would be willing to tell you exactly how to spend every waking minute of your day, whether she had any idea what your actual life entailed or not. And that’s not really her fault, because she comes from a long line of bosses. I suffer from Factor C as well, and it’s not my fault either so keep your criticisms to yourself.
Unlike _________, I have already crossed the bridge of eternal disdain and can now view my mom with what I hope is a more objective eye. Although she’s bossy, she is often right about things that she has actually experienced and is generous in sharing those experiences when you are in a tight spot. She is a fantastic cook, and she’s really fun to talk to. I was always interested in her attentions when I was younger, and I am interested in them now. She is a master at making any house she lives in feel like a home. The beds are comfortable and soft, the food is good, the cable package is excellent with portals distributed liberally throughout the house, the fire crackles in the fireplace, and the wine or chocolate milk, depending on your age, flows freely. She’s the person I call first with any news or concerns, and she never fails to offer comfort or guidance. By “guidance,” I mean she tells me what to do in lavish detail. But hey, I called.
When I embarked on being a parent myself, I really did not have a long list of ways that I wanted to be different from my own mother, unlike other people I know. I think that there are many who define parenthood by what it should not be, rather than by what it should be. Their parenting style develops in negative space, simply by approaching things in the way they expect their own parent would not. I did not feel that way about my own mother.
I picked this topic, and I hope ______________ doesn’t say I’m perfect because it isn’t true. I assured him that he could be honest and that it will not affect his rapidly expanding Christmas list, but I’m a little afraid that maybe he just doesn’t know any better because he’s 11 and because he hasn’t gotten to that stage where he realizes that I’m a moron and shouldn’t be allowed in public. Of course, I have been amazed by how much ___________ does know, so maybe he once again pinned the issue down in a lot less sentences than I will write. It will be interesting to see.
I’m a single mom. A really single mom. I don’t really date, which I claim is because I don’t want to but I suppose it’s viable that no one wants to date me either. Being a truly single parent (as opposed to someone who jumps from “uncle” to “uncle”) tends to make you and your child a fairly tight unit. It also puts you in a position where you are on your own, with no one to tell you that you are being unreasonable or crazy when you impose discipline, or when you get a particular parenting idea in your head. You can discuss these things with other family members, friends, or co-workers, but only in small doses or else they become uncomfortably aware that you don’t have a life outside of being a mom and tend to suggest that maybe you should consider dating.
On top of the fact that I’m immersed in subjective parenting on a daily basis, I also have no idea what a perfect mom might be. I’m not suggesting, via this post, that such a thing exists in some concrete way, because that’s clearly not the case. But I am suggesting that there may be a set of criteria to which a parent might aspire in order to do better. I’m just not sure what those criteria might be.
My mom was, and is, a good mother. Not a perfect one, because she’s a) human, b) had to deal with external factors that sometimes impeded her ability to parent me, and c) suffers from congenital bossiness. Factors A and B affect everyone. Factor C is unique. My mother is the type of person who would be willing to tell you exactly how to spend every waking minute of your day, whether she had any idea what your actual life entailed or not. And that’s not really her fault, because she comes from a long line of bosses. I suffer from Factor C as well, and it’s not my fault either so keep your criticisms to yourself.
Unlike _________, I have already crossed the bridge of eternal disdain and can now view my mom with what I hope is a more objective eye. Although she’s bossy, she is often right about things that she has actually experienced and is generous in sharing those experiences when you are in a tight spot. She is a fantastic cook, and she’s really fun to talk to. I was always interested in her attentions when I was younger, and I am interested in them now. She is a master at making any house she lives in feel like a home. The beds are comfortable and soft, the food is good, the cable package is excellent with portals distributed liberally throughout the house, the fire crackles in the fireplace, and the wine or chocolate milk, depending on your age, flows freely. She’s the person I call first with any news or concerns, and she never fails to offer comfort or guidance. By “guidance,” I mean she tells me what to do in lavish detail. But hey, I called.
When I embarked on being a parent myself, I really did not have a long list of ways that I wanted to be different from my own mother, unlike other people I know. I think that there are many who define parenthood by what it should not be, rather than by what it should be. Their parenting style develops in negative space, simply by approaching things in the way they expect their own parent would not. I did not feel that way about my own mother.
In fact, here is my list of things that I swore I would do differently than my mom:
- I would not dictate how my child would wear his/her hair. My mom completely controlled my hair cuts and styles, which has resulted in a photo album full of pictures of me with permed hair. Oddly enough, my least favorite mom-imposed hair style, the “straight hair parted in the middle no bangs with a little piece pulled back on each side and secured with a decorated bobby pin,” does not appear prominently in my photo albums so I’m wondering whether I was really forced to wear it all that much.
- I would not force my child to eat things he or she didn’t like. My mom, who fed us copious amounts of Velveeta cheese, fake sweeteners, and margarine in the name of misguided health, thought I needed to eat more red meat. I spent the better part of my childhood years spitting masticated balls of cow flesh into the toilet. To this day, the words “flank” and “steak”, when said together, make me gag a little.
- I would try really hard to be maybe not quite so bossy about things that I am not, nor ever have been, involved in.
Seriously, that’s it! It would have been a much longer list at ____________’s age, mostly because I was a fairly sour child and felt the world did not function exactly as I would like it to. I’ve since grown into a more accommodating disposition. Plus, there are things that I wasn’t fond of at the time but weren’t what I would call characteristics of my mom. Just things that relate to Factors A and B, and that can happen to the best of us.
Now, if you look at my list of the positive characteristics I attribute to my mom, I am an abysmal failure. I recently turned off ALL cable, and I don’t let __________ have a television in his room. I am not good at making houses seem like a home – I’ve been living in this house for six years and I have still not refinished the stairs after ripping up the carpet. Most rooms have no curtains, because I can’t decide what I want, and I haven’t repainted the kitchen ceiling after the whole frozen pipes 2004 thing. I don’t let ______________ drink chocolate milk too often. I’m an okay cook, but I make a lot of quick and easy things. I’m not huge on homemade.
Also, I know there’s a list of things that I do wrong. I’m a yeller. I don’t yell hurtful things to ____________; I don’t say that he’s a bad person, or diminish him in any way. But I make my points really, really loudly on numerous occasions. I spend a lot of time with my nose in a book or writing something or watching television. I have never understood how to play with a kid, so I have to figure out a way to do things with ____________ that are fun, but don’t involve me doing something that makes me feel stupid. I tell _____________ what to do, A LOT. Then again, my mom had some of these issues as well. Ahem.
I’m not even sure that the list of things I picked out about my mom has anything to do with why I think she’s a good mom. It is just a list of things I attribute to her. And mothering is less about the person doing it than the person being mothered. For instance, after some rocky years of rebellion and poor fashion choices, I turned out okay. And I attribute this to my mom as well. She made sure I had a good education. She didn’t help me with my homework so I had to do it on my own. She basically framed my life so that there was no way I’d ever suggest I might do anything other than go to college. She let me go to New York City on my own, at 17, and let me live there over the summer after my first year of college. She drove down in record time when I ended up in the emergency room after being beaten up by a would be thief/rapist. She stood by me when I entered an ill-advised marriage, but she was also there for me when, inevitably, I needed to get out. She walked the parenting balance beam, and ultimately I feel she got it right.
So basically, I don’t know if I’m doing things right with ______________. I think he’s a great kid, so if I’m to judge by the product then I have to think that so far I’m doing okay. But we haven’t hit even the tween years yet much less the teen and young adult years. Also, we all know that things you wouldn’t expect can happen, and it’s not fair to point fingers at parents for everything. I guess, when it comes down to it, I hope the lessons I’ve taught him serve him well. I hope I’m able to give him the freedom he needs to become an independent adult, and the comfort of knowing that if something goes awry, I’m always there for him. I hope he looks back on these days fondly, and I hope he smiles when he thinks of me.
Son's view:
Well the perfect mother for most kids would probably let them eat whatever they want, let them stay up late, etc. I love my mom but here are the things that I would change:
- Stop yelling so much! I hate it when you yell and I get scared when you yell!
- Try not to explain every single thing that you need me to do! I get what you are saying and ill figure out what I need to do!
- Don’t be so cranky! Sometimes when you are out raking or you’ve just done something hard you get cranky and then you start to yell and the cycle begins.
That’s what I think would make the perfect mother.
Mom's response:
Okay, so apparently I'm subpar in numerous ways, but he loves me anyway except for the fact that I'm a cranky bossy yeller. I feel so warm in my heart. And by the way, I'm cranky about the raking because ___________ was supposed to do it and bailed out completely. And yes I dragged him out anyway, but it was like trying to get an amoeba to rake. I gave up. I was OWED that crankiness. You know what? I feel like yelling.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Oh Rocky. You came and you gave without taking.
Mom's view:
I have never watched any of the Rocky movies, except in snippets. As far as I can tell, every single one of the movies is about an underdog boxer who makes good in some way, even if he doesn’t win the big fight. They start with an outline of some struggle, then Rocky decides he needs to step up, which leads to the montage scene combining inspirational music and working out, and then the big fight. That’s about it, right? So clearly, their magic eludes me.
The reason I picked this topic is because of a series of events that made it clear that I was on the outside looking in when it came to this franchise. ___________ has a complete set of the Rocky movies. This is thanks to his dad, who was young when Rocky originally came out and found inspiration in this story of a somewhat in shape guy becoming even more in shape to music. He used to go through these bouts of working out and he’d always listen to the Rocky theme song as a part of his whole regime.
When he first gave the DVDs to _________________, I though they’d end up moldering on our shelves the way “Fighter Jets” and some of the other transferred interest items have. And at first, they did. ______________ relegated them to the bottom of the wicker toy chest where we keep all the movies. Then, when I canned the television, they made an appearance. _____________ has now watched every single Rocky installment numerous times, sometimes from a push up position. What is it with guys and Rocky?
Anyway, one night not too long ago, he starts explaining to me that out of all the movies, Rocky IV is hands down the best.
“Rocky IV?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Usually people like the first one of any series the best.”
“Nope. Rocky IV.”
“How come?”
“Well, he’s fighting this guy in Russia who’s this giant guy and you can tell he’s all on steroids and Rocky beats him down.”
“And that’s why it’s the best?”
“Yeah.”
As I am wont to do, I passed on this key information to a co-worker the next day.
“______________ keeps watching those Rocky movies, and he swears Rocky IV is the best. Who likes movies with a IV after them?”
She immediately jumped in.
“No, no. Guys love that one. They all think it’s the best.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. But they love it.”
Sure enough, she emails her fiancée and passes on the debate. Her fiancée immediately writes back, advising me second hand that while my son is worthy of living, I’m clearly un-American. Actually, I think the exact wording was, “If you don’t like Rocky IV you don’t like America.” And FYI, I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it, having never seen it, but merely that it seems odd, as a general principle, to like a fourth installment better than the first through third. These movies generally don’t get better over time. They just don’t.
As usual, I Googled the issue, and it appears that people either loved Rocky IV or hated it. Very little in between, and there’s clearly a huge following. From what I can tell, the lovers feel that the montage scene is the best, with “Hearts on Fire” inspiring them all. They also like the fact that Rocky defeats communism via the big fight. Hmm.
Here’s my opinion. The Rocky movies are chick flicks for guys. But unlike the guys who laugh at me when I cry at the end of Sleepless in Seattle, even though I know it’s ridiculous and that it would never happen and that seconds after she walks out of the elevator with the guy he probably farts and makes her pay for her own pizza, I say “way to go!” Embrace your inner manly man and enjoy!
Son's view:
Rocky 4 is the best movie ever in the whole entire world. Now, I know I’m eleven but, there is this song in the movie that I workout to and it is totally awesome. If you just think of it you can do like, thirty push ups. It’s crazy. I love this movie and we just got the new one that came out, (rocky balboa) and my mom called it rocky the elderly, and I think that she is right. Stallone had to be about 80 in that movie. It was funny to watch him beat the fighter who was like, 18.
I have never watched any of the Rocky movies, except in snippets. As far as I can tell, every single one of the movies is about an underdog boxer who makes good in some way, even if he doesn’t win the big fight. They start with an outline of some struggle, then Rocky decides he needs to step up, which leads to the montage scene combining inspirational music and working out, and then the big fight. That’s about it, right? So clearly, their magic eludes me.
The reason I picked this topic is because of a series of events that made it clear that I was on the outside looking in when it came to this franchise. ___________ has a complete set of the Rocky movies. This is thanks to his dad, who was young when Rocky originally came out and found inspiration in this story of a somewhat in shape guy becoming even more in shape to music. He used to go through these bouts of working out and he’d always listen to the Rocky theme song as a part of his whole regime.
When he first gave the DVDs to _________________, I though they’d end up moldering on our shelves the way “Fighter Jets” and some of the other transferred interest items have. And at first, they did. ______________ relegated them to the bottom of the wicker toy chest where we keep all the movies. Then, when I canned the television, they made an appearance. _____________ has now watched every single Rocky installment numerous times, sometimes from a push up position. What is it with guys and Rocky?
Anyway, one night not too long ago, he starts explaining to me that out of all the movies, Rocky IV is hands down the best.
“Rocky IV?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Usually people like the first one of any series the best.”
“Nope. Rocky IV.”
“How come?”
“Well, he’s fighting this guy in Russia who’s this giant guy and you can tell he’s all on steroids and Rocky beats him down.”
“And that’s why it’s the best?”
“Yeah.”
As I am wont to do, I passed on this key information to a co-worker the next day.
“______________ keeps watching those Rocky movies, and he swears Rocky IV is the best. Who likes movies with a IV after them?”
She immediately jumped in.
“No, no. Guys love that one. They all think it’s the best.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. But they love it.”
Sure enough, she emails her fiancée and passes on the debate. Her fiancée immediately writes back, advising me second hand that while my son is worthy of living, I’m clearly un-American. Actually, I think the exact wording was, “If you don’t like Rocky IV you don’t like America.” And FYI, I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it, having never seen it, but merely that it seems odd, as a general principle, to like a fourth installment better than the first through third. These movies generally don’t get better over time. They just don’t.
As usual, I Googled the issue, and it appears that people either loved Rocky IV or hated it. Very little in between, and there’s clearly a huge following. From what I can tell, the lovers feel that the montage scene is the best, with “Hearts on Fire” inspiring them all. They also like the fact that Rocky defeats communism via the big fight. Hmm.
Here’s my opinion. The Rocky movies are chick flicks for guys. But unlike the guys who laugh at me when I cry at the end of Sleepless in Seattle, even though I know it’s ridiculous and that it would never happen and that seconds after she walks out of the elevator with the guy he probably farts and makes her pay for her own pizza, I say “way to go!” Embrace your inner manly man and enjoy!
Son's view:
Rocky 4 is the best movie ever in the whole entire world. Now, I know I’m eleven but, there is this song in the movie that I workout to and it is totally awesome. If you just think of it you can do like, thirty push ups. It’s crazy. I love this movie and we just got the new one that came out, (rocky balboa) and my mom called it rocky the elderly, and I think that she is right. Stallone had to be about 80 in that movie. It was funny to watch him beat the fighter who was like, 18.
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