Part of my Christmas celebration includes watching two movies, the George C. Scott version of Dickens’ Christmas Carol and sometime later, Polar Express. Last night it was Bah Humbug time in old-time London-town with Ebenezer Scrooge and Tiny Tim. Every time, I am surprised again by what a great actor G. C. Scott was. Dickens wrote a great story but when other actors fill that role it turns out just another great story. Every time, I get a lump in my throat at the same scenes, same lines, same body language; I know them almost by heart and still have to take deep breaths to vent away those emotions. The message hasn’t changed since Jacob Marley’s ghost dragged his chains into Scrooge’s bed chamber; don’t squander love for the sake of money. It’s like a booster shot for clear conscience and I need it every year this time; and God bless us every one.
A few days later I recover from the tough love Scrooge had to face. Then the movie, Polar Express lets me lose myself again, not in an old man’s folly but in childlike innocence. At the beginning of the train ride I am just another spectator, watching the story unravel from a place removed. How that magic works, I don’t know; but by the time the unpunched ticket has flown out the window on a gust of snow and wind, I have become invested and involved. That gives me agency and that makes me part of the story. The message of Polar Express is to listen to the child within. This will be my 84th Christmas. I grew up in spite of myself but the magic spell has kept him (the inner child) on the cusp. He believes the fairytale; he knows better but he trusts the feeling and that’s the real magic. When I feel him tugging at my sleeve I could resist but I know better. If I stop listening, stop following his lead then he will find a new accomplice and leave me on a shelf to collect dust. I have to go now; someone tugging at my sleeve.
A few days later I recover from the tough love Scrooge had to face. Then the movie, Polar Express lets me lose myself again, not in an old man’s folly but in childlike innocence. At the beginning of the train ride I am just another spectator, watching the story unravel from a place removed. How that magic works, I don’t know; but by the time the unpunched ticket has flown out the window on a gust of snow and wind, I have become invested and involved. That gives me agency and that makes me part of the story. The message of Polar Express is to listen to the child within. This will be my 84th Christmas. I grew up in spite of myself but the magic spell has kept him (the inner child) on the cusp. He believes the fairytale; he knows better but he trusts the feeling and that’s the real magic. When I feel him tugging at my sleeve I could resist but I know better. If I stop listening, stop following his lead then he will find a new accomplice and leave me on a shelf to collect dust. I have to go now; someone tugging at my sleeve.
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