balding angrily

Red-Haired Mom and White Beard are coming to town in a couple of weeks, so I thought I’d honor her with this post. I suppose humiliate rather than honor is more correct.

We had an Oldsmobile station wagon when I was seven or eight, Harley Brother was twelve and Talky Sister was eleven. We loved the drive-in; she drove the Oldsmobile to the best spot in the expanse of asphalt, and faced the back end toward the screen. We set up a makeshift bed in the back, opened up the hatchback - no, it wasn’t a hatchback; station wagons had back doors that swung out then - and we lay on our stomachs facing the movie, chins propped up by fists and palms. I loved the drive-in because I loved laying in a bed outside. I never liked camping, but I loved the back of the station wagon.

The night I’m thinking of was like the others. Mom looked up what was playing at the drive-in and chose a movie, and Mom isn’t the most careful reader. This will become apparent shortly. We got into the station wagon, me in my footie pajamas, the back overstuffed with blankets and pillows, the sun not down but dipping, and headed out. We drove by the drive-in, and I looked at the glowing marquee with Cinderella in block letters. We found our spot, did our bed thing, and got our snacks. Mom always brought snacks in a cooler so we didn’t spend money at the snack stand: cokes, Frito’s, bologna sandwiches, plastic juice bottles - this was before juice boxes or Capri Sun - the previews played, the movie started, and it was Cinderella 2000 [link NSFW, but will give you an idea of the kind of movie we watched], a live action X- rated retelling of the Grimm’s faerie tale.

We, a woman who should know better and her three impressionable children, watched it through, and I believe it wasn’t hardcore - just softcore. I remember that the Godmother was a guy, more in the spirit of Uncle Arthur from Bewitched, queeny and clumsy. I remember the scene where he dinged Cinderella into her gown. He dinged; she was in a dominatrix get-up. He dinged; she was in a french maid uniform. He dinged; she was nude, boobs on display. Think of The Newlywed Game with the feathered hair, the wide collars, and the 70s version of naughty - “Where were you when you and your wife first made whoopee?” Now add some boobs and some softcore simulated action, and you have the idea.

Mom was embarrassed. I didn’t understand what was happening on the screen, but I’m sure Harley Brother and Talky Sister did. I wish I could say what was going through Mom’s head that we stayed for the whole movie and through the second feature, The Boob Tube. I can guess that she didn’t want our money to go to waste.

I told Jerry this story within the first six months of dating, and he cracked up. Then we met Red-Haired Mom at her place, which as I’ve said before is far away. On the first night of our stay, we all - Red Haired Mom, Talky Sister, Harley Brother, White Beard, Jerry, and I - drank some and circled around Mom’s living room exchanging memories. I retold this story, we laughed, and Mom went right into a story of Talky Sister losing her virginity. Jerry was quiet with a big smile, observing from a place of amused detachment as we got raunchier. I love that this is the first memory he has of Red-Haired Mom. She never grew out of her impropriety, I love her for it, and I can’t wait to see her again.