Firday Nights memories

First, a quick update on Deb. She is in a lot of pain but has people around helping her out. She will know more after visiting the doctor Monday, will try to keep you informed. 

Now, on to my theft...err, homage to the idea of Pheromone Girl on Friday night memories.

Growing up we were...well, what is a polite word for poor? You know that poverty line? When we got within a thousand dollars of it, our noses started bleeding. It was just too high. (Yeah, cheesy joke. So be it. Cheese is my forte.)

That is not to say we were in want. Far from it. We always had a roof over our head and food to eat. It may not have been what we wanted but it kept body and soul together.

And every once in a while we would have movie night. Dad would get out an old beat-up 8 mm film projector he had gotten from Sears. Mom would make popcorn. Not microwave popcorn. Not hot-air popped popcorn. REAL popcorn, hand-popped over a burner on the stove with melted butter, salt, and we would get our one Coke for the month.

Then we would start watching the movies. Old Charlie Chaplin movies, Laurel and Hardy, the occasional Buster Keaton, and a single, lonely "Our Gang" movie. Mom would play piano along with it, and we had seen them enough times that she could provide a sound track that fit. Plus, she loved to read the interstitial. 

It was cheap, fun, entertaining, a great family activity. And one of my fondest memories.