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So, yeah … I cry at Field of Dreams. Every Time.
Have you visited the site in Iowa? I did on one of my bicycle excursions in 1996, when I visited all the ballparks in the Midwest League (Class A) and watched a game at each one. On the long ride from Davenport IA to Appleton WI I stopped at the Field of Dreams site for a while. My wife and youngest son were there, too, but they came by car.
My father didn’t play catch with my brother and me, except for one time. He wasn’t an athletic type, but one time when we were of high school age he came outside to give it a try. He ended up falling on his left hand and stopped.
Dad had always wanted to learn to play the violin, so some years after this he finally was able to buy one. I don’t remember what he was planning to do for lessons — I had left home by that time — but one time when I came home for a visit I learned he had to give that up, too. It turns out that that time he had fallen on his hand while playing catch with us, he had done some permanent injury to his left hand that kept him from being able to hold the neck of the violin properly.
I’m pretty sure he said it was his left hand, though that time he fell I seem to remember him falling on his throwing hand. It has been a while.
No – never been there but it’s on the list. The lovely Mrs E and I have a grand tour road trip planned for my retirement in 1391 days. One Lap Around America. We’ll be stopping there for sure.
I love father/son stories! And yours is a beauty. Thanks.
Ekosj,
Big Fish. IMDB or Wikipedia can do a much better job than me of synopsizing the story, which centers around how an estranged father and son reconcile as the father dies of cancer. It’s a Tim Burton film (with all that entails), is very entertaining, brightly filmed, and not depressing as the duo successfully come together at the end.
My father had a pretty good sense of humor and liked a good story, but nothing on the level of Edward Bloom. We were not particularly close (or not as close as I would have liked), but I know that he loved me and did his best to take care of his family (which he did very well). After graduation from college, I commissioned into the Marines, got married, moved away, and returned to visit infrequently. Nine years later, he died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack at age 61 when I was on a deployment to the Far East (Korea). Services were delayed until all six of his boys could get home. He was a dentist and ran a successful practice. Like Edward Bloom, he had touched many lives, and the church was packed for his funeral.
Although we were not estranged, I feel as though I did not get the chance to really get to know him and then say goodbye, as Will and Edward Bloom were able to do. So, the final scenes of the movie kinda get to me.
Tim
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AI- Artificial Intelligence. Every damn time.
Ditto amigo. I saw Field of Dreams at a beautiful old cinema across Nassau street and a stones throw from the campus of Princeton. I saw it with my buddy Ray who was a defensive juggernaut and co-captain of the football team. By the time the credits rolled we both had tears streaming down our faces.
I can think of two other movies that hit me the same way. There is a scene in Terms of Endearment where Debra Winger’s character brings her boys around her hospital bed to say goodbye. One of them as I recall refuses to hug her or show any affection. He has internalized his rage at the impending death of his mother by turning his invective outwards and towards her. I’m paraphrasing here. She says something to the effect that “I know that one day you are going to think back on this moment and you will not be able to forgive yourself for not hugging me but don’t ever do so. I want you to know when that day comes that I knew how much you loved me. And I loved you with all my heart and always will.” If that doesn’t bring you to tears you are either made of stone or an Astros fan.
The other scene that kills me every time is the last scene of Cinema Paradiso. We follow the childhood of Salvatore, a young child in a war torn town in Italy whose father was killed in the great war. He is taken under the wing by the crotchety projectionist with a heart of gold, Alfredo, at the towns cinema. We see early on that each feature was reviewed by a priest before showing. The priest rang a bell every time there was a kissing scene and Alfredo would tag the reel so he could splice out the immoral material. The movie begins as an adult Salvatore, seemingly a famous movie director who has not returned to the town of his youth in decades, receives word of Alfredo’s death. It is a beautiful and sentimental testament to the memories we hold dear from childhood and our inability to ever truly go back. At the very end, Salvatore is given the one thing that Alfredo wished him to have. It is a reel. Salvatore sits in a darkened room and turns on the projector. What explodes from the camera is every scene Alfredo spliced out over the years of Salvatore’s youth. Black and white flickering images of the blossom of youth and love and adventure from a thousand films.
I haven’t cried that hard since the scene where Gordon Gekko loses all of his money.
@Ekosj, @Some Call Me …Tim, @Jack Mantle… Yep, those scenes always get to me as well. My other faves are Dorothy’s “there’s no place like home” finale and when Mr. Gower cuffs young George Bailey.