There is something quite wrong with me. Ever since I was a little girl, I have always been completely infatuated with Gene Hackman. I gather it is because he starred in several movies that my father found appealing. The movie ratings system meant nothing to the man, as we would often sit side-by-side in theaters for viewings of very hard R-rated films such as “The Road Warrior” and “Sudden Impact.” Keep in mind; I was way under the age of ten, when these movies first premiered. The topic of movies is one of the few acceptable discussion points within my family. Movies are a common ground that all generations can equally participate in. My family has spent many a holiday discussing them, and frankly, avoiding all other poignant issues. This may not be the best way to relate and connect as a family, but it is how we have managed to function as a unit. As a result, my movie knowledge is a very strong tool that I have always relied on to meld with others.
A few Saturdays ago, I was at a couple's house in Belleville, Illinois for dinner. Tammy and Travis have an adorable six-year-old son, named Andon. He is a blond, blue eyed, little boy who is very aware of his cuteness. Andon really chews up the scenery with his combined utilization of his always innocent, yet menacing, rascal-like persona. While praising Tammy by calling her, "my sweet, angewic mommy, who I wuv so beary much"; he will simultaneously antagonize his teenage sister, Cam-Marie, with his ability to sing a song in one note, knowing full well it annoys her. Andon is cute and lovable dressed in Superman jammies with his suave and cunning brainpower of Lex Luthor (overlooked and brilliantly performed by Gene Hackman in the Christopher Reeve Superman movies).
Our little dinner party of nine had just finished eating, when Andon wanted to show me his new trains. He was very proud of assembling it all by himself, and explained in great detail all the intricate construction that went into his Thundering Rails train set. We sat down on the carpet together and played with the controls for a while, when I noticed he had several little red and blue plastic policemen in his little toy corner of the living room. My eleven year old son, Max, had brought over a plastic frog he had constructed out of plastic pieces. With the train, frog, and policemen, this inspired me to reenact possibly the world's best cinematic car/train chase, out of a spectacular film from the 1970's, "The French Connection". I handed Andon one of his blue policeman and suggested to him to portray the Gene Hackman character, Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle, a short tempered, alcoholic, narcotics cop. I would then portray the Roy Scheider character, his police partner, Buddy "Cloudy" Russo. Our goal as plastic blue policemen would be to get the Alain Charnier/FROG 1 "bad guy" character; superbly performed by Fernando Rey, or in our case, my son's plastic frog. If all went well, six-year-old Andon and I would be responsible for stopping a $32 million French drug smuggling ring of heroin, or "white horses" as I referred to it for Andon's sake. I won't ruin the film for you by revealing the ending of the movie, or our playtime; but I feel I kept our plastic toy reenactment of this gritty police drama true to the story. Max merely rolled his eyes at us, and went back to playing his Wii game.
The next morning, Max had asked why I don’t play with him anymore like I was playing with Andon last night. He’s right, I don’t, and honestly haven’t for a while. He’s eleven years old, and has been officially indoctrinated into that full throttle phase of pre-adolescence known as “the awkward age.” This made me realize how quickly he has grown up and grown away. He used to be that clingy little boy of which I almost needed a human sized spatula to remove him from my hip. Now, I have grown quite accustomed to proclaiming, “Rawhide!” every time his eyes start rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ in response to something I tell him. I am officially uncool now in his sinewy oculus, and am sometimes just as awkward around him, as well.
Within our current digital world, it makes you wonder how do parents even have fun with an eleven year old nowadays. Social networking sites and video games are tools that have added a new dimension to how we experience life. However, these new technology’s can also contribute to several degrees of isolation. It is astounding when we are standing right next to one another and sending each other text messages.
Also, tweens barely seem to exist in a department store. Sandwiched in between the colossal baby and juniors sections are usually a few racks of clothing devoted to the broad size range of Boys 8-20. There is not much choice for fostering identity when you have only five polo shirts to select from for the next several years. There appears to be a huge oversight in the untapped market of the ‘tweeners. This age range has every right to feel lost and awkward, as there is not much in the stores for them in the first place.
As for my reply to Max’s question on why we no longer play like we used to, I told him he didn’t want to play with boring old Mom anymore. My offerings of playing UNO or Sorry together, were continually vetoed, in favor of more exciting things, once he discovered technology. It’s really okay to outgrow toys and stages of play; however, I feel it’s harder on the parents, than it is on the children.
Even though we don’t reenact Star Wars scenes like we used to, we still do have fun together, like go on nature walks, read the same books together, and see concerts and of course, movies. I’m certainly trying to keep at bay as much of the disconnected dysfunction that I’m well acquainted with. Later that night, I popped some corn, and cuddled up with my preteen son in one of our oversized blue chairs, and let him choose between “Young Frankenstein” and “The Poseidon Adventure”. And yes, Gene Hackman has prominent roles in both films.
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