Celebrity Interviews: http://www.bluntreview.com Blunterettes , I lead a truly strange life as film reviewer and celebrity interviewer Emily Blunt of BluntReview.com...this is true. In the a.m. it's off to interview a celeb, and by the afternoon, I am dining off The 99 Cent Store products, in the evening - it's gowns and petit fours among the "elite." Oh, this double-life that's mine. You wanna know what I'm up to? Sure, here you go.

Monday, May 02, 2005

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday - and I am not referencing the Maher Baba album by Pete Townsend - of which I own an original thank you very much ;). It's my father Russell's birthday.

He's been gone for years now... and it's an odd thing - I wait up every year till midnight, then look up and say happy birthday before diving into my cocoon of comfy blankets. Still painfully aware we won't be getting together to engulf a bucket of Ipswich clams, or giggle at his raving-cackling towards bad drivers by stringing together rich profanities disguised as Dr. Suess words (yes hanging out the window fist a blazin' as they speed past)- "You fucnickelbastarasswimpleturd," he'd bellow while we crawled along in his gallopy at a whopping 40 mph - on the highway. Or our adventure searches for crabs and creatures along the Revere shoreline. We hunted by turning over boulders and collecting and comparing - the winner (the one with the creepiest collection) got to rename them, scientifically "Wormalotlegscusatean", or with a snobby moniker like "McCrabalaster Becksworthington of Leopold Manor". It's memories like these that make the pain subside. We had so much fun - always. And it's not right to cry and be sad, when I was given this great gift of knowing him at all.

But, it's another odd tradition that started after his death that - quite without my involvement - occurs every year on the eve of his birthday that's really kinda cool. Without fail (so far) there's a Marx Brothers special, or film block on TV - and I don't have cable.

It's weird enough that I notice this - true - but it's even weirder as my dad use to take me to every Marx Brother festival the "vintage" Exeter Street Theater in Boston ever had...from the mind shaping age of, I don't know, 5 years old? He'd plop me down fifth row center and we'd watch hours of the brothers' mayhem - both just roaring and inhaling the tall-as-me barrel of popcorn. He, of course getting way more of the more adult stuff the troupe was between-the-lining, and me laughing at him laughing, and at Harpo's Lemonade stand and outrageous shenanigans (still do). I adored Chico's piano playing (still do) and Groucho's quick quips and wildly fast word play (still do) - I seem to recall actually getting his sarcastic humor by the second film. I still have many Yiddish and Marx-phrase words in my vocabulary, make odd vaudeville references and sing "Hooray for Captain Spaulding" (or at least hum it) when I'm in a nervous situation (IE: SAT Tests, DMV tests, Walking alone late at night, on a bad date, and so forth).

Is this some weird reaching out from the great beyond? Does my father's spirit program TV in the after world? Think Beetlejuice's vast waiting room. Maybe he got to be a guardian angel of a programmer? Or, maybe, it's one of the Marx brothers' birthdays so they dust off their classics? What ever the case - it's a weird coincidence that I basically just accept and embrace for the sweet memories it stirs up. I don't even check the TV Guide -don't have to. I just look around at 800pm and 900pm and viola there they are! Which tonight hurt - 'cause I wanted to see Family Guy, or Man with the evil baby thingy kid. But, it's my duty, and my heart, to remember all the laughter - so I don't cry all day next I suppose...

Lydia oh Lydia that encyclopedia - Lydia the Taaaatooooed lady! Hehehe. Happy Birthday Dad.


Blogger Sarah said...

Aww what a lovely tradition, well I guess I should really say traditions!. Happy Birthday to your dad :)


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