I’ve always had an interest in objects that were considered archaic or obsolete. As a result of this, I believe that the past should be seen as enriching, rather than decaying. However, this belief is not universally shared. I do have a reason though, for this fascination of mine. It all started with a name; my name, to be exact. It’s my parent’s fault really, who in their right mind would give their daughter an old lady’s name in this day and age. Luckily they learned their lesson by the time my sister came around. She had the good fortune to have a more…up to date name. She is Natalie. Me, I’m Winifred, Winn or Winnie to my friends and family. I guess I just figured that if I was going to be stuck with this outdated name for the rest of my life, I might as well have interests that go along with it.
When I was younger, about 5 or so, I would go to visit my Grandma Hogan every day after kindergarten until either mom or dad could pick me up at 6, when they finished working. To pass the hours, Grandma would have me sit with her at the table and tell me of her past. She would talk about the biggest events in the world at the time, explain to me which movies were the best then and why, and she’d sing me to sleep with songs by Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole. Those were my favorite days, one of the only times I was able to spend time with someone who understood the allure of these classics.
She would look at something that people would consider decrepit, and she would disagree and say, "Old? You see age but I see wisdom. I don't see old. I see someone who has seen and experienced the world as I have. They know what's what." I have to admit I didn't know what she meant at the time but I adored the way my Grandma looked on the world, no matter how much it confused me. I loved the novelty of it. It made me feel unique to be able to understand what the real treasures in this world were while everyone else was content with mediocrity.
I never really got the chance to talk with her about how I saw the world and the similarities that it had to the way that she had seen it. She passed away before I was at an age where I really understood this new perspective myself. With that, I had lost my companion in this love of everything timeworn.
However, this loss did not kill my love for antiquities of film or music, but rather, made me hunger for it more. It was one of the things that helped me to feel closer to my Grandma. For my 8th birthday, I received my first Audrey Hepburn movie. It was called The Secret People, and was Audrey’s first major role in film. From this time on, for every birthday I would get a new film of hers, from Roman Holiday to Funny Face, or my all-time favorite, Sabrina. It wasn’t just Hepburn that I enjoyed. I began collecting old newspaper articles about certain events or celebrities and soon my walls were completely covered with them.
When I was 13, I was given an old fashion typewriter for Christmas. I used it to type just about everything for the next year and a half. Now I only use it for special occasions. It is still in mint condition though. You see I have a respect, cultivated by my Grandma, for these older things. As amazing and as enlightening as they may be, in most cases, they are still quite fragile, due in part to the age of a majority of these items, and deserve to be treated with an amount of respect befitting their age.
Now, the reason for me relating this back-story, and this whole rant in general, is because of my opinion of the state of affairs today when it comes to the classics that I admire so. My attention was drawn to the whole matter today and it went something like this:
It was one of the first days of school and the teacher was going on about how we all ought to know something about one another and so it was decided that we should tell each other our names, the grade schools we had gone to, and our favorite movies. I had already decided that I disliked this class, for the teacher, the lack of teaching actually accomplished in this class, for my peers, as well as for their lack of respect in anything. However, I was excited at the prospect of being able to talk about movies, and especially excited at the prospect of finding another person who shared my fascination, something I had lacked since the death of my Grandma.
The teacher went around the room, pointing from student to student as they divulged the facts pertaining to them. My excitement sank lower and lower as more and more students answered the final question with “ The Hangover” or “Step-Brothers”, pieces of so-called cinema that didn’t deserve to be labeled as such in my opinion. Finally it was my turn.
“My name is Winifred, but you can call me Winn if you’d like. I attended Millington South Junior High School before coming here. My favorite movie would have to be…” I was quite tempted to repeat one of the mediocre movies I had heard only seconds earlier in a quite futile attempt to fit in but I couldn’t bring myself to claim that such a piece of utter crap was a favorite movie of mine, “My favorite movie is Sabrina, circa 1954 with Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart.” My answer was met with silence and blank stares.
“What the hell is that?” one boy asked.
“Well, for your information it is a classic movie and one of the best every made in my personal opinion. I am sorry if you do not understand what a good movie is. You probably never will with a taste in cinema like the type you have.” I replied to him, in my head of course, I never would have the courage to say something such as that out loud.
“It’s just a movie.” I finally said, under my breath of course.
I wished I could explain to them what exactly constitutes a good movie. It isn’t necessarily just something that is funny in what may possibly be the stupidest way, but it must have a good plot, or even a plot in general, and it contains a mixture of several amazing genres that work together well rather than a poor one or several poor genres in some cases.
My day steadily continued to become worse and worse. In my History class we discussed music:
“I totally love Justin Bieber. I swear I will like marry him one day and stuff.” One obviously brainless girl said to another.
“Oh my god! Me too! He is like the best ever. Oh and he is like sooooo cute!” the second, and perhaps even more brain dead, girl replied.
“Umm, I enjoy Tommy Dorsey.” I attempted to add to the somewhat lacking conversation.
“Who on earth is that?” the first of the two girls question, seemingly puzzled over the whole ordeal.
After that experience, I completely gave up on the idea of any future attempts on educating the girls in this, or just about any class, on the concept of what real music was or who it was that preformed it.
Big events that made history back in the 1920’s to 1950’s were made mention of in the same class and it seemed that I was the only one that knew the answer to any of the questions asked. One peer of mine had to ask what the wheel was for goodness sakes, I didn’t really expect her to know anything about the Great Depression or either of the World Wars for that matter.
The culmination of my distress over the lack of knowledge that any of these people that I was forced into going to school which came to its climax in my Literature class. Not because of my fellow students in this class but the teacher herself.
She explained,” In the world today, it seems that no one seems to care for things, people, or events of the past. It means nothing to young people in comparison to those more modern equivalents. Your generation especially tends to see it all as decrepit, with a few exceptions to the rule. You could care less about the past when the future is this new and exciting.”
I had a problem with this statement of hers. How could she make this assumption that was so wrong. Of course there were quite a few people, even just in the school alone, which fit this description but not me. I had spent most of my life priding myself on my perspective of the world that was completely opposite to what she was saying.
She continued, “And, although there seems to be a certain lack of respect in this area, the same can also be said for things today. Things may not be the way some people prefer but that doesn’t mean that it is terrible. If you open yourself up to both ideas from the past as well as the present, your life can become more full and quite possibly, better as a result.”
What she said, it struck me. I had always seen any and all things modern as something of a nuisance. A thing to be ignored or even reviled. However, some things at least, had the same or close to the same amount of worth as the movies and music that I had spent my life cherishing. And although my Grandma had been right in what she had said about things being wise rather than old, as most people see them, these modern things can be wise too, although it usually is quite rare.
So, although Justin Bieber is still atrocious, and Talladega Nights is a sad excuse for a movie, not everything from this day and age is quite so horrible as it seemed.
Gender:
Points: 300
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