Vanity Fair has an excellent piece in it this month by Bryan Burrough. Well, I think it's this month. Whatever issue is currently flung to the other side of the bed where the cats say "quit piling books and magazines on our side of the bed."
Remember that movie A Night to Remember? No, not your first, er, date. The movie from 1958 about the Titanic. Roz and I used to stay up late and watch movies, and I remember watching this one and being totally horrified at the people floating around in the sea waiting to die. It actually is a great movie; I still haven't see the other Titanic all the way through. Once you know the ending, it can drag.
Anyway. Burrough has written about that Italian cruise ship that fell over last summer. It's a great piece, and it felt like watching A Night to Remember felt, all those years ago. Except my father didn't barge into the rec room in his jama bottoms near the end and ask us to tell him what the hell was going on in the movie.
He used to do that. He'd go to bed at 6pm, read, snooze, then get up around 11 and prowl around. He would often wait until he could smell pizza, because we'd order pizza. There was a little pizza place down the road (Trevi Pizza) who, all we had to do was call and say 'hi' and they knew it was us. Looking back, I'm not sure why that inspired such pride in me. Thing was, we'd order a pizza, and whoever was there knew how many pieces were theirs. Then we had to give each other the malochio eye because we couldn't say no to Dad, but it threw the count all off. Sometimes he'd have two. While he snarfed it back, he'd try to talk through the movie. We'd hiss at him to be quiet so we could watch. When he'd had enough, he would grab his pizza and head downstairs declaring the movie was stupid. And we would eye the last piece like jackals.
Roz actually took me to my first movie in a theatre, too. Poseidon Adventure. Do you detect a theme here? We used to go down to the old Odeon on Lakeshore Road in Burlington. I loved that place. I think it's an ice cream parlour now. Too bad. But we went to see ol' Shelley Winters with her big ol' bum floating around in the darkened hull of the ship, with dishes and stuff floating by.
I also saw The Sting there with my grandma. I remember telling her I thought Robert Redford was pretty cute as we walked home. I remember her turning to me and saying "bah, vat you doing saying tings like dat?". She also called onions, honions. We still do, in her memory.
So, go read the Vanity Fair piece. It's pretty cool. And that Italian captain? Holy crap. What a turd.