Everyone's gone to the movies

I mentioned a few months back that our local do-gooder organization (which, much to their dismay, has me for its president) was just starting to think about getting on the road to maybe deciding on helping out on the potential renovation of our long-since-shuttered local movie house. Since then several strides have been made on that front, namely that the entire front exterior has been renovated and all the neon replaced.

Since I walk by the theater every day, I've been able to track the construction process the past few months. I'd gotten used to seeing workers coming and going as the cobwebs were gradually cleaned away from the entrance and the dirty, chipping red and lime green paint became a fresh shade of white and red. Once I saw the new doors go up I determined this project was actually happening and some day we just might see the old show look better than ever. When the workers quit showing up, I deduced that an unveiling couldn't be too far off. Logic being a good friend of mine that rarely lets me down.

On Monday night, not too far off got a whole lost closer. The locals brought out lawn chairs and sat on the street in front of the show for the grand unveiling of all this progress. I figured the turnout would be pretty good since the theater holds a special place in the hearts of so many around here. And, truthfully, there ain't a whole lot going on around here on a Monday night at the end of August.

Actually, there's not ever a whole lot going on around here, but I guess that's why people like it. Or at least drink to numb the pain. Anyway, even I was surprised at just how many folks showed up. I didn't recall advertising free beer and strippers, but apparently somebody did. Certainly all these people wouldn't have come just to see a theater lighting, but it seems they did.

As this was a theater lighting, it only made sense to have popcorn and cokes for to the assembled throng. Since the concession stand and the entire interior work hasn't even been started, we brought in a popcorn machine and a couple of of coolers of cokes. This necessitated the need for brave souls to man this particular fort. Using questionable logic, the powers that be figured that if anybody knew how to prepare popcorn it would be the one person who finds the very concept of popcorn thoroughly disgusting, i.e. me.

Therefore, that's where my two cohorts and I spent most of the night, handing out bags to whoever wanted one. This seemed to be everyone who wasn't me. Who knew not liking popcorn was such a revolutionary stance? I figured since the popcorn was free no one would complain if it was awful or attack the chefs. No one did. A riot would have sort of violated the spirit of the occasion anyway.

After a few, brief, well-meaning speeches that I'm guessing no one paid much attention to, the big moment arrived. The switch was thrown. Since I'd been assigned to concessions, I was afraid that I wouldn't get to see the lights actually come on. But, as luck would have it, I was out in the crowd doling out popcorn at that very moment.

For someone with my general demeanor, it's probably not a stretch to say there haven't been too many moments in my life I would describe as breathtaking. This was one. As the neon kicked on, townsfolk got to see a sight they most certainly never expected to see again. There was an collective gasp from the crowd that was quickly followed by a round of applause and then silence as we took the moment in. Though the moment quickly passed, it really did seem like some Norman Rockwell painting come to life. A nice evening to say the least. I suppose having to touch all that popcorn wasn't all that bad either.