Heat

Looking at the weather channel as I write this it's 91 degrees outside, feeling like it's 102. 

Too damn hot.

It's been like this a few days and will probably continue for a few more. Was it this hot back in the day? My mind goes back in its little Rolodex, searching for a day when it felt like opening an oven when I opened the front door. 

I remember playing baseball in the heat, not thinking anything about it. Two, maybe even three games a day. Eight hours. We didn't quit for heat, just a break between games. This was war damn it. The constant sucking down of Mountain Dews from the soda machine in my po dunk home town also helped. There's nothing like a Dew out of a can on a hot day.

The myth that was perpetuated was that the Fourth of July was the hottest day of the year. That's a fraud now, just like the corn being knee high by the Fourth of July. I remember some hot July 4th's, though. One in particular had me soaking my feet in an old wash tub full of hose water. Please commence the banjo jokes.

I don't know if it's old age or what that makes the heat hotter than when I was younger. I could go on about global warming or the humidity coming from my beloved corn, or the ides that we may all just be burning in Hellinois. The sun is beginning to fall in my neck of the woods. 

I guess baking time is over.

Where The Stars Came Out To Play

The Illinois Theater circa 1981.

One day in 1981 I went to the movies for the first time. It's a sketchy memory because I was only four years old at the time and we all know how well four year old boys remember stuff thirty years later. My brother, who was either sixteen or seventeen at the time was taking me to a matinee at the Illinois Theater, which decades earlier had been the Fox Illinois and before that the Fox Morgan and so on (The Fox tile arrangement is still in place at the entrances to the theater).

I don't remember buying tickets or getting popcorn or a coke. The thing I do remember is sitting in that auditorium waiting for the movie to begin and looking at the curtain that covered the screen. Of course a four year olds mind races with "What's behind there" and "Where are the knobs?" on this over sized television. Once again the four year old played out as I started to get restless, eagerly anticipating something to happen. Anything! Everyone behind the curtain needs to finish up so I can see something. Eventually the curtain pulled away and "something" started. I couldn't tell you a thing about trailers or anything like that because the only thing I remember was the 20th Century Fox march, small letters appearing on the screen and getting the crap scared out of me as STAR WARS blasted in my face like 3-D. 

Re-release #2 in 1981.

 You see, to this point the only Star Wars I got my hands on were toys and storybooks. This was the real deal. I wasn't in line in 1977, I popped out four days after the movie was released. So on that day in 1981 I was amazed by what movies were, not long shows on TV buy something spectacular on the big screen. You could say I got spoiled early. I went back one more time in 1981 to see Superman II, vividly remembering that the curtain was open when we got there, yet the way the lights were playing tricks on this lad I thought I could see Superman on the screen made of shadows.

I remember the theater being closed for awhile, getting what cinema enthusiasts now consider a blasphemy- it was twinned into two theaters. From a business standpoint it makes sense. TV, cable, and home video had taken a bite out of ticket sales. Why not run two films instead of one.

It's funny in a way how this old building has been a backdrop in my life. I remember going there in the late 1980's with my dad to see Clint Eastwood movies (I could also discuss the slasher films, but they always played at The Times for some reason) and the only time in my life that my mother went to the movies with it: The Dead Pool, which also introduced me to a band from L.A. called Guns N' Roses. Rock n' roll sensibilities were starting to fester in that four year old boy.

One of many flicks my dad and I caught at the Illinois only for this one my mom actually went with us.

 
 The Illinois always played the big movies, you know what I mean. The stuff people wanted to see. I mentioned the Times earlier and I went there quite a bit, but the Illinois just had something about it and The Times didn't get the big movies. We had a joke about the Times from that era:


"What's the difference between the Times and a porno theater?"
"A porno theater actually mops its floors."


We'll leave the Times alone for a later post.


Like I was saying, the Illinois got the big ones. I remember seeing Batman twice (the first time I ever did that), forever erasing the Adam West camp from my conception of Batman. There was Terminator 2 on a weekday afternoon which also featured the first time I pumped gas and forgetting to put the gas cap back on (I played dumb and made like someone must of stolen it). It always rolled like that.Whatever the big summer movie was going to be was uptown on the corner. 


It wasn't just the movies or how big they were or good or bad they were. It was the memories that go with them.

The Illinois the way it looked during my teens and twenties. What the hell did they do to the marquee?

Over the years things have changed all over. The square, which was an actual vibrant square when the Illinois opened in the 1930's, became an urban renewal project during the 1970's that closed driving around it, only to be opened back up in 2010 to drive around again. Your tax dollars in action, kids. The Illinois was still there, hovering at the corner. The ticket booth is gone and I haven't bought tickets at the kiosk just inside the doors in decades. There aren't the lines like there were during the days before cable, DVD, and downloads. Recently there has been some renovations done, the most dramatic being the use of the old balcony as a small theater upstairs. It's a cozy little auditorium that I actually enjoy. It's very rare for anyone to use the side doors to leave anymore, but I still do.It's my little secret exit that everyone forgot about. Sure she's changed a little bit, but she's still the same to me.

The Illinois today with a new marquee.

 So in 2005 fate dealt the cards of coincidence. I was a father now. Star Wars was back in theaters, presumably for the final time (I do not count the crappy Clone Wars cartoon movie). And I had a four year old son. So on an late spring afternoon I took a four year old boy to the wonder that was the movies to see something spectacular. The movie may not have been as spectacular as the one I saw, but to a four year old it was something to behold. At that age there's a sense of wonder to everything.

The Illinois Theater may not be grand or exuberant like some of the other theaters out there. It's a small town place. It's special because it's full of memories like the ones I've written about above. It's events like those that give a place a soul and a life all its own. I'll see you up there sometime.

I Guess This Is Where I Go To Bitch

What is blogging?
Why am I starting it?
What's the point?


These are the questions that run through my head as I finally start typing on this thing I set up so long ago. In reality I've actually been blogging sort of with my movie reviews (shameless plug:  
http://sonoreviews.blogspot.com/). I've been kind of reluctant to type anything being the shy, useless bastard that I am. To the first two questions I can't answer them. I really don't want to either. It's whatever you want it to be. You want to bitch, then bitch. You want to dish, then dish. You want to tell me what kind of odors are coming from your body I won't read it. I have standards at times.


The question I will try to answer is what exactly the point is. Doing stuff like blogging on the Internet is the equivalent of going to a shrink. You get that stuff that you want to shout from the rooftops out in the air without getting a disorderly record. If Network was made today Howard Beale's line would have been all over cyberspace and not airspace. That's just where we are now. Think about it. Is the telephone going to die someday? The way texting has exploded onto the frontier it probably will with the phonograph and the CD. 


We love to see our words. It's so damn easy today. Kids made their own newspapers off mom's typewriter. Now we can start one in our own home with a possible readership of billions. Reading our words. Replying to our words. The only boundaries that are left are those age old ones that we've built up over the years. Maybe we've started to take them down, piece by piece. Maybe that's the real point of all this. 


If I was to map out all the people I have met over the great Internet machine over the last decade or so it would span the globe. I've talked to people that live right down the road a piece and I've shot the shit with others in areas of the world that I'll never go to. It's run the gamut, too. Music, politics, movies, bullshit. Bullshit is a universal language by the way. It's been a long, strange trip. I've read shit that would turn you white.


As I sit here pondering what exactly this is all about I've come to two conclusions. The first is that we do things like this as an almost psychiatric exercise. We're laying down on the couch discussing what is what and people may be listening, may being the key word. We like to know someone is out there and they care. We need reinforcement. We need to know that we're not freaks. There are others. The other thing I've come up with is that this is essentially the equivalent to masturbation. We get off on it and if other people want to watch, then hey, that's cool. Just kidding about that part, but is that what seeing our words and thoughts out there for all to see just like self love? I guess it depends on who you are. At the end of the day it's all thoughts. Presented to you out of billions of 0's and 1's. I guess we'll see whether I'm paying you by the hour or just jerking off.