Movie Minutiae - Ticket Stub of Memories
By Johnny Betts, Moviegoer Advocate
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Movie ticket stubs. We have all saved them. But why? What is it about that little piece of paper that makes us hang on to it? For most
of us, they serve as mementos. Memories of a time gone by. They're an instant connection to a particular day in our past. A specific
experience.
If somebody randomly asked me what I was doing on January 5, 1996, I wouldn't even dare attempt an answer. But as I recently rifled through
an old drawer full of ticket stubs, when I found the one for 12 Monkeys, with the above date imprinted, I was flooded with a rush of
memories. I don't recall much about the movie experience, but I do know that it was the first time two of my friends from different sides of
the tracks had met. It was a collision of worlds.
See, when I was in high school I had two best friends. There was one that I went to high school with and one who I was still good friends with
from elementary. But for whatever reason, I kept those worlds separate. The main problem with this is that sometimes both friends would want
to see the same movie. Too scared to suggest we all go to the theater together, I'd go see a particular movie with Best Friend #1 on Friday and
then I'd see it again on Saturday with Best Friend #2.
Despite being a total waste of money, this wasn't a horrible situation if the movie was good. However, the problem is that back in the day high
school boys had too much of a tendency to be drawn to Jean-Claude Van Damme movies. That means that not only did I pay to see crap like Hard
Target at the theater, but I paid to see it TWICE. Yeah.
But on January 5, 1996, that practice came to an end. Each of the friends knew about the other, and they had both heard stories, and it all
culminated in this rather anti-climactic introduction.
"Cool, Johnny, so the three of you are all great friends now and continue to hang out together, huh?"
No. We did go on a canoe trip shortly thereafter, but one of the friends has since moved to San Diego, and I lost touch with the other after he
started hanging with the wrong crowd and his life derailed into a haze of alcohol and bad decisions. I tried to provide guidance for a time, but
you have to know when to cut the anchor rather than risk being dragged below the surface. But I can look at that ticket stub, and I can remember
a brief, distinct moment in time when the three of us congregated, and times were innocent and young.
Obviously, not all instances are so dramatic. Some are nothing more than inconsequential reminders of passing thoughts. As I looked down at the
Someone Like You stub, I had to pause for a minute to recall that it was the stupid romantic comedy with Hugh Jackman and Ashley Judd. The only
thing I can tell you about the movie is there was a scene in a kitchen with Judd in underwear talking to Jackman, and all I could think was,
"So this is Wolverine's next career move? Oh brother." But a memory's a memory, and each one is a brick in the path we've traveled.
My Nightwatch ticket stub might possibly be the only one still in existence, and I'm a little more proud about that than I should be willing
to admit. There were only five people in the theater, but I was one of them. I can look at the stub and reflect on how that was my first opportunity
to see Josh Brolin on the big screen, and I can feel a little more special than necessary. No, it won't fetch any money on Ebay, but it's a stamp of
a memory, and really, how can you put a price on that?
Well, you can if you're a huge Josh Brolin fan who'd pay big bucks for a Nightwatch ticket stub, but I digress.
Perhaps this is a bad combination of my sentimentality and pack rat tendencies, or maybe - just maybe - it's a legitimate process of turning
to certain pages in our life's book. So many pages are missing, and so many have yet to be written, so why not hold on to those things that can
trigger memories long forgotten and thought lost to time?
Your hair is graying
And your memory is fading
Unable to recall
All on its own
But that stub in the dresser, baby
Never forgets.
You can dismiss it if you want to, but consider my position - I'm just a classic rock kind of guy in a Top 40 world, trying to write that one hit
that'll put a dent in the fender of the sanitized, "politics-as-usual" paradigm.
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