The Movies We Carry With Us

People love to tell you their favorite movies and exactly why they matter. They have Top 10 lists…sometimes Top 5 if they’re feeling decisive. They can recite dialogue from films they haven’t seen in twenty years and somehow remember entire scenes more clearly than the names of second cousins on their mother’s side of the family. It’s true. I know because I’m one of them. I hand out movie quotes freely like cocktail napkins at a wedding. Most days there’s a line for every occasion.

But there are two movies that stand apart in my memory for entirely different reasons.

Both were seen at the old Plainview movie theater on Old Country Road — which, for bonus Long Island points, is now a medical office building. Nothing says “the magic of cinema” quite like a podiatrist’s waiting room where the popcorn machine once stood.

The first movie was Disney’s Herbie the Love Bug. Three mothers and about eight sticky children packed into one row on a rainy weekday during summer vacation. I remember the laughter, the chaos, and my mother quizzing us in the car afterward.
“What was your favorite part?”
“Which scene made you laugh the hardest?”

She wanted details. She wanted us to pay attention to the story.

The second movie was That’s Entertainment. If memory serves me correctly, it was a celebration of filmmaking itself — a giant love letter to Hollywood filled with scenes from legendary movies spanning decades. I remember loving the movie, but what stayed with me most wasn’t on the screen.

It was my mother’s face.

The second the lights dimmed and the music began, she transformed. Her entire expression softened and lit up with wonder. She was completely captivated by the screen in front of her. And that’s how it always was at 36 Grant Avenue. Mommy loved movies — and more importantly, she loved where they could take you.

Over the years we talked endlessly about television shows, films, writing, and performances. My favorites. Her favorites. My father’s picks. She appreciated sharp dialogue and stories that actually said something. She used words like “glorious” and “rich” when talking about writing. If a script fell flat, she’d dismiss it in seconds. If it sparkled, she celebrated it like art.

And somewhere in all those conversations, I realized I wanted to write for the screen — big or small. I wrote constantly. Stories. Scenes. Fragments of dialogue. When college applications rolled around, I had a plan all mapped out. I wanted to attend Northwestern University for Journalism, earn a practical living, and secretly write films on the side. I thought I had cracked the code to adulthood.

Heavy sigh.

I was accepted to Northwestern, but somewhere along the line I was told maybe that path wasn’t realistic for me. Business Management and English Literature were “safer.” More “solid.” More sensible.

So life moved on.

The writing career quietly drifted off after college while the corporate world came rushing in. I worked hard. I had success. I laughed. I traveled. I built a life. But somewhere underneath all of it sat a tiny unlit theater marquee flickering inside me waiting for someone to turn it back on.

Today, sitting in Row F, Seat 17 watching The Devil Wears Prada 2, I felt unexpectedly emotional. Not just because Stanley Tucci delivered a line with the kind of perfection only Stanley Tucci can deliver — but because the movie reminded me what my dream always was.

To entertain people.

To create something that lets someone escape their life for two hours while happily inhaling buttery popcorn and washing it down with a suspiciously oversized Diet Coke.

I glanced over to my right at Julia in Seat 16, happily watching the movie while balancing popcorn and what appeared to be a 675-ounce Diet Coke like a professional. And quietly, on the ride home, I reminded her to listen to her dreams. To never ignore the thing inside her that lights up when she talks about what she loves.

I told her to keep the fire alive inside her brain.

Because dreams may get delayed. They may get buried under careers, responsibilities, fear, practicality, or time. But sometimes all it takes is one dark movie theater, one perfect line of dialogue, or one memory of your mother smiling at a screen to remind you who you were before the world told you who you should be.

And maybe…just maybe…that fire never really goes out at all.

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Author: KikiFikar

Kiki Fikar is a native New Yorker who is passionate about taking the day to day life we all experience and sharing it in her tales from Suburbia. She will often be found at the gym, writing snippets each day for future story lines, listening to her two children create their lives, and building the perfect beachfront home and writing retreat in her mind.

37 thoughts on “The Movies We Carry With Us”

  7. Karen this was an amazing post. We have a lot in common. I also always wanted to write a script that would make it to the big screen. I have been writing short stories since I was a young lad. I still remember when my Dad bought me my very first computer, I think I was around 12 or 13. It was just after a surgery that left me in a coma, and when I came out of it I just knew writing would be my thing.

    Over the years I tried different paths, jumped from one thing to another, trying to figure out where I fit, what I was good at. Even now at 56, I still find myself asking that question sometimes.

    I tend to live in movie lines too. “She’s lost that loving feeling… no she hasn’t… yes she has.” Or “Look at your reflection in the mirror… you’re a creature of the night, Michael.” But the truth is, oh wait, “You can’t handle the truth!” 😂😂 Funny how those lines stay with us.

    But the truth is, God knows best. And in His time, He places us where He wants us, for reasons we may not always understand. Life may not go the way we planned, but He sees the bigger picture.

    Thank you for sharing this. It really spoke to me.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Hi my friend. Thank you for sharing this and everything with me. I do find comfort knowing that others feel the same even though our situations are vastly different.

    I do believe we are precisely where we need to be despite trying to fight that some days – ok lots of days!

    Very thankful for you my author friend!! ❤️😊

    Liked by 1 person

  10. That spark never really left, you have a great storytelling ability expressed in your blog. Not exaxtly the same but still something to take pride in Kiki 😁

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Fascinating post, Karen, I love it. You should write that screenplay and what great advice for Julia. I remember after watching Singing in the Rain I wanted to be a play writer 😂 Still love that film today.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. I loved Herbie as a kid… and funny to think back on all the movies I still remember, more the “story” of the time, perhaps, than the actual movie. A beautiful and quietly powerful post. And it’s great to know they’ll always be there, no matter how “sensible” we try to become.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. You have the talent, the skills, the vision, and the support. It’s never going to be easy but you can do it! You just clearly expressed the vision and purpose. You have a number of people engaged and bought in (we are your biggest cheerleaders), and you have been sitting down and executing and writing every day and demonstrating that with each of these amazing blogs. Now it’s time to tap into your courage, curiosity, and capability and treat us to that wonder and desire that is in your mind, heart and soul. Entertain us please!

    Liked by 1 person

  20. Love this thought. It’s funny which movies stay with us all of these years later. Some movies I’ve seen were not critically acclaimed but they touched me in some ways and therefore stay in my top rated vault.

    Like

  22. Saw Herbie on vacation in Wildwood, New Jersey in 1969. The movie does a good job illustrating that instead of losing faith and saying, “We need a bigger boat,” have more faith in your boat.

    Liked by 1 person

  24. “who you were before the world told you who you should be. And maybe…just maybe…that fire never really goes out at all.”

    Right! It doesn’t mean a long ago dream will never come – it might or might not.
    Remembering helps us to look again at the dream for what still lives in us to find it within the world and life we have today.

    Liked by 1 person

  25. Awesome. You are right. I’m going to go for it. I have this hang up on age lately. I’m going to get past it! Based on what I do at this age I can and I will move forward.

    Thank you my friend!

    Liked by 1 person

  26. You may not be writing like you thought you would, but you are writing nonetheless. Granted, I’m not swept away for a couple hours, but I am for a few minutes, and that counts.

    Liked by 1 person

  33. “675-ounce Diet Coke” 😂 Awesome! Wow, English Literature instead of Journalism? That was a wild recommendation. I think you are an excellent writer, and you have journalistic skills, as you have proven here reporting what happened in the theater. By the way, The Mandalorian and Grogu starts this Friday. I can’t wait!

    Liked by 2 people

  34. Thank you my friend. That means everything. Oh yeah I wanted journalism in the worst way. Actually copywriting sparked my interest first and then moved into journalism.

    Liked by 1 person

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