My parents grew up without television, so they were used to going to the movies. They regularly took my sister and me to the movies when we were young. In the summer months, we’d go to the Skyline drive-in, and in the colder months we’d go to the theater on Main Street. Both were torn down many years ago.
My father loved westerns, and he took us to see several of Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns. They were, of course, inappropriate for a five-year-old. I can remember the close ups of people who had been shot and being terrified by their open, dead eyes. I think seeing things like that shocked my parents, too. They were used to movies being censored, and the change in the late ’60s and early’70s disturbed them. They stopped going. My sister and I were allowed to go now and then, but our parents didn’t go with us.
Finally in 1978, Grease hit the theaters. Since it was a nostalgic film set in the ’50s, and since everyone was talking about it, my parent’s interest was piqued. I’m pretty sure it was the last film they ever saw on the big screen.
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