I posted part of this to a blog that'll go unnamed. The owner of the blog chose to not only not post it he deleted his own post that inspired it as well. Well, I thought, he shouldn't mind if I recycle my writing here. I know it's overwrought, but hey, that's the way it breaks down in the big little city.
Now that my Mom and Dad have shuffled off the stage to their ultimate reward I got to thinking about them the other day, Cherry Lane Drive In and my memories of it and them. Cherry Lane Drive In, no surprise, used to be on Cherry Lane at Interstate 30. Back then it wasn't I30 though, it was I20, but that's another story and it really doesn't matter to us now. Today, if we were to stand on Cherry Ln and look out where the drive in used to be, as my memory tells it, we'll see a deserted parking lot. Back when I was a child every now and then we'd all load up and go to the drive in. Kinda hard to believe that you could have a drive in movie in what, today, is in town. Then it was at its darkened boundaries. Down the street from the Bomber Plant, what was then known as G.D., or General Dynamics, my dad's place of employment. All these memories were bubbling up and I was wishing that I had pictures of the old drive in. Some tangible recording of my past.
When I got to my teen years there was a walk in movie house I'd go to. It was old then, too. The 7th St. Theater. I miss it too. The old man and his son selling the little paper tickets at the old fashioned ticket window. The ceramic floors whispering to me in a thousand whispers of those who have trod it before me. The snack bar with it's Milk Duds and Raisinets. I was hoping someone would purchase the old movie house and turn it into a independent, art house, movie geek theater. Alas that was not to be. The building fell victim to development. Shameful, in a way. Pushing it down with a front end loader in a way devoid of sentimentality. Thinking of it now reminds me of a time when I wanted to photograph it. The Jack Nicholson, Michelle Pfeiffer movie, Wolf was playing there. The title on the marquee displayed as WOLF. I was hoping to take a picture, calling it Wolf at the Door. It may be a constructed memory but I think it closed soon after, when the owners, father or son kept their date with mortality, leaving one to quickly follow the other, and the marquee unattended. WOLF was to stay on the marquee, keeping watch on a deserted movie theater.