This blogging thing really is a one-way street. I've heard there are people from all over the world who are reading it -- I mean like in England and France and the Netherlands (do we no longer call it Holland?), and even New Zealand forheavenssake! But the only one who ever writes a comment is my friend Darrelle who lives right down the street. Actually, truth be told, I'm not sure where she lives, but Ashland is small so it can't be far. She's a poet and a calligrapher and a former drama teacher and I like her a lot, but pretty much the only time I run into her is in the darkened auditorium of the Varsity Theater where she and I and a nice man who writes reviews for the Daily Tidings go obsessively and excessively.
My filmaholicness is genetic. My father ran movie theaters. The only other person I've ever met whose father ran movie theaters is Nancy's best California friend, Louise. What, do you suppose, are the chances of having two close friends whose fathers both ran movie theaters?
Well, gotta run. I'm off to the movies.
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My father ran the Elite Drug Store lunch counter and next to the movies, it's the best place to have been. Do you remember hot roast beef sandwiches on--I think--Wonder Bread? with that brown gravy on top?
ReplyDeleteMy father didn't do any of that stuff but he is a wonderful man anyway! =) And Sharon, isn't Darrelle the most wonderful person ever!? Love, her daughter... =)
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