As I lay in bed I felt inspired this evening to present a double feature. I have missed a couple of days on my blog and am determined to complete what I started. 365 days of Grieving is a labour of love and as such I need to put in a couple to double shifts to catch up the 4 days I have missed. I have missed those days due to my own limited energy levels not due to lack of inspiration. One thing I have is plenty of stories, thoughts, mindless ramblings…. the problem is sometimes after doing a 40+ week in work along with the odd bit of socialising and domestic duties I find my energy only goes so far. Tonight be it the humidity or the new eating plan I have mustered up the strength to write a double feature.
One thing is certain about my dear mummy. She loved a good story, be it fictional or otherwise. She was a great story teller herself. She knew when and when not to embellish certain parts, when to execute precision comic timing and also when to tug at the heart strings. We both had a love for cinema which I have previously talked about. We loved nothing better than finding a good ‘weepy’ on a Sunday afternoon to watch together. My mothers sky library was filled with Danielle Steele stories. You know the type! They often involved some tragic heroine overcoming adversity to finally be struck down my some tragic illness leaving her family destitute. These filled up her memory on her skybox. She would lament how they were all really crap and she had not really watched them however I knew she secretly lived for that ‘crap’.
We differed in our taste in some movies however one thing we could always agree on. Dirty Dancing. I remember sitting in our living room the first time she put it on for me. I must have been about 8/9 at the time. I certainly missed the whole abortion subplot, I just thought some bad man had beat her up or that she was sick? This did not detract for my love of the film. I can remember the opening credits like it was yesterday. As the drum starts to beat followed by ‘be my baby’ sung by the Ronettes I was instantly mesmerised. The music was from a different era but I was used to it growing up in an eclectic musical household ranging from Simon and Garfunkel to the Everly Brothers. I was used to this rock and roll sound filling the home. Music that should have felt odd and nostalgic felt warm and familiar. I felt very much comfortable with the music from the 1960’s. While most kids were probably listening to current chart music I was dancing jiving in the kitchen with my mummy to ‘wake up little Susie’ and ‘bird dog’ by the Everly Brothers. Those were the days when my mum had large big rimmed glasses, high waisted trousers and oversized pullovers. This was the early nineties so I’m sure most mothers had that look. We would sit in that kitchen jiving to classic Rock and Roll till it was bedtime, laughing as my little feet would trip over themselves struggling to follow the natural rhythm of my mother.
So it is fair to say Dirty Dancing immediately struck a chord with my music sensibilities and my love of dancing. As we watched the provocative dance scenes which most mothers would cringe watching with their sons, I just say their mesmerised by the movement. It did not contain anything sexually explicit in my eyes, it just looked like what I considered dancing. Media watchdogs always warn about the dangers of exposing kids to images unsuitable at a young age, and am I in no way condoning watching Rita, Sue and Bob too with you children, I do believe the moral crusaders need to calm down slightly. It did this little Irish boy from a small town no harm after all. As I said before I didn’t really understand the sexual subtext of the film, just a young girl whose daddy wouldn’t let her dance.
As the film progressed we sat in near silence as the little boy from Ireland was captivated by the chorography, the songs and above all the heart of the film. I still remember the goose bumps I felt as ‘I’ve had the time of my life’ started to play. Babies perfectly pleated skirt twirled in the air and Johnny dived off the stage. I gasped, would she finally make the lift? A health inspector may have been wondering what was going on as an 8 year olds pupils dilated as Jennifer Grey leaped into Patrick Swayzee’s arms. It was amazing, it was classic, it was just incredible. After the film ended I sat in silence enjoying the credits as the VHS came to an end. “Did you enjoy that son?”. The big grin must have gave it away, I loved every second of it. How my mother did not realise she was raising a gay kid is beyond me. A love of music and dance surely (not to stereotype god forbid) is a good indication your future son will become interested in same sex relationships. Another indication may have been how I insisted we would dance around the kitchen as mummy ‘lifted me’ as I always wanted to be baby, though I’m pretty sure Jennifer Grey could pull of the flowing skirt better than I could.
I don’t have memories of every film I watched with mummy, only a few. Dirty Dancing sticks out the most. We would probably watch it another 20 or 30 times together. It was always so easy for us to switch on and fall into and be absorbed by Baby and Jonny’s world each time. Fast forward 6/7 years and I was in my late teens. It was mummy’s birthday and I knew exactly what I was getting her. I had went to Camerons in Ballymena which is an independent department store. They had a massive CD collection before the days of HMV. As I casually searched for the gift I looked and finally found what I was looking for. Dirty Dancing the soundtrack. On her birthday she unwrapped it and thanked me for it. I don’t think she knew exactly how much it meant to me never mind her. I selfishly bought the CD as it brought back memories of us in the kitchen, dancing away to dirty dancing together.
Every time I hear Be my baby, I always think of the start of my favourite film we loved together. I think of those moments spent as mother and son. Joyously dancing away together. Cherishing each others company.
Every time I hear that song, I will think of you. xx
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 